by Lyla Lee
I freeze, remembering the glimpse I had of them a few weeks ago.
He chuckles. “Hey, eyes up here.”
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” I grumble at him.
“Yup. I wouldn’t be a model if I didn’t.”
I try to give him a light shove, but he dodges away with a grin.
At that moment, the stage manager walks in. “All right, we’re going to start rolling the cameras soon. Bobby Lim and Cassie Chang, since you guys are up first, please stay here on standby. Henry Cho and Skye Shin, you two are up next, so please stay here, too. I’m going to have to ask the rest of you to either go to the green room or back to the dressing room if you’re not ready yet, since it’s not safe for everyone to be out here. The third couple should come out on standby when Skye and Henry go onstage.”
I almost groan out loud. Because I was so busy this week, I didn’t get the chance to check the list of who’s going when. Now, I really regret not checking. Out of all people, why do we have to go after Bobby Lim?
Everyone else leaves. The stage manager is quiet, listening intently to her earpiece. She isn’t doing anything interesting, so I chance a glance at Bobby and Cassie. They’re both dressed in fancy matching outfits, and Bobby’s shirt looks like it’s made from the same material as Cassie’s dress. They look like they could appear on So You Think You Can Dance. It makes me wonder if Henry and I should have gotten our outfits professionally made too.
That’s when I notice the way Cassie’s standing, with her legs crossed tightly together like she’s trying to take up as little space as possible. She’s also fidgeting, and she keeps adjusting the straps of her plunging V-neck dress. It makes me wonder if Bobby even consulted her before choosing their outfits.
“What are you staring at?” Cassie suddenly says. The venom in her voice makes me take a step back.
“Your dress—it looks really nice,” I manage to say. I don’t blame Cassie for being mad at me, but I don’t want us to stay enemies.
She blinks, but quickly recovers enough to scowl at me.
“Thanks.” She doesn’t sound any less angry, but at least she stops fidgeting.
“Is that what you’re wearing onstage?” Bobby asks me then. “God, I’m so glad I didn’t end up with you.”
Anger floods into me. I see red for a hot second.
“We’re in a K-pop competition,” I say through gritted teeth. “Not ballroom. So I highly doubt the judges will care if we’re all dressed up or not.”
Yeah, my usual blue dance dress is kind of old, but it’s pretty enough. Most important, it’s very flexible and stretchy, perfect for high kicks and splits. I could have asked Mom for a new dance dress, but I doubt she would have bought me one. If I pressed her, she’d probably make some snide comment about how it doesn’t matter what I wear because I look bad in everything. Or about how “hard” it is to find decent clothes for me because of my size.
Yeah, no. I don’t need that kind of extra negativity in my life. I’d rather wear an old dress.
“She looks fine,” Henry says. “If anyone’s underdressed, it’s me.”
Bobby turns to Henry. “I hope you’re not regretting the switch, Cho. Because it’s definitely too late now!”
He laughs, and Cassie stares at the floor, like she’s embarrassed to be standing next to him. I’m about to give Bobby a piece of my mind when Henry says breezily, “No, I’m not. In fact, being Skye’s partner is the best thing to have happened to me in this entire competition.”
Bobby stammers for a second before saying, “Let’s see if you still feel the same way when you’re both eliminated.”
Henry’s totally sweet answer doesn’t escape me, but by that point, I’m so mad that I don’t care about much else.
“Are you really that insecure of your chances that you can’t just leave us alone?” I blurt out. “If you’re so convinced that you guys will win and we’ll get eliminated, then go prove it. Blow us out of the water.”
Bobby looks like he’s about to respond, but at that moment, the stage manager clears her throat.
“Bobby and Cassie?” she says. “They’re ready for you. Please head to the stage.”
As they leave, Bobby pushes up the tip of his nose with one index finger.
Oh no he didn’t.
“You’re such a child!” I’m so fired up that I start after them, but Henry gently pulls me back.
“Hey,” he says. “Hey. He’s not worth it.”
“I know, but we really shouldn’t let him go around doing stuff like that. You saw Cassie, right? She looked miserable! Who knows what kind of crap he put her through over the past few weeks? And he just thinks it’s okay to walk in here and say stuff like that to my face, to make that pig face at me—”
Henry places his hands on my shoulders and leans down so we’re eye to eye. Our noses almost touch. In the quiet moment between us, I realize I’m crying. I’ve always been an angry crier, and today’s no exception.
“Skye,” he says gently. “We’re better than him. You’re better than him. Like you said, he’s just acting like that because he feels inferior. You’re entirely valid in being angry at him, of course. Heck, I’m this close to going after him myself. But we have to focus. Let’s show everyone that we’re better.”
And then, finally, the fear I’ve been keeping trapped beneath all my layers of anger sticks its ugly head out. “But what if he’s right? What if we don’t make it past this round?”
Henry reassuringly squeezes my shoulder. “Come on, of course we will. We’re amazing. You’re amazing. I believe in us.”
I take a deep breath and then let it all out. My heart is still beating quickly, but it’s kind of impossible to stay on edge when Henry’s so close to me, his large, dreamy brown eyes staring calmly into mine.
Someone coughs. I look up, expecting to see the stage manager. But she’s nowhere in sight, and instead, there’s a small crowd of cameras gathered around us, recording everything. Great. I was so preoccupied with my emotions that I didn’t even notice that they were there. Were they there this entire time? It scares me that I have absolutely no idea.
I sigh, accepting my fate. Guess my mini breakdown is going to be on the show.
Henry looks up too, and if he’s surprised by all the people watching us, he doesn’t show it. Suspicion flares inside my head. Did Henry know about all the cameras? Was everything he said just for the show?
The stage manager walks in then, pushing through the crowd with a look of annoyance on her face.
“All right,” she says. “Skye and Henry, please proceed to the stage.”
“Ready?” Henry asks.
“Yup.”
As we walk onstage, I push away all other thoughts from my head. I feel weirdly nervous and confident at the same time. But even though my heart feels like it’s about to burst out of my chest, I know we’re as ready as we’ll ever be.
Chapter Twenty-Four
AS SOON AS WE STEP ONSTAGE, THE ENTIRE AUDITORIUM explodes with screams and cheers. I hear “Skye!” a few times, but most of the voices, predictably enough, scream Henry’s name.
“Wow,” Henry says with a laugh that’s barely audible with all the noise. For a second, I see a flash of tension on his face before he hides it under his professional smile. He gives the audience a quick wave, and the shrieking reaches a feverish pitch.
We stand on our taped-on marks, our eyes staring at the floor beneath our feet. It’s something both of us decided to do when we were rehearsing, since it not only makes for a more dramatic beginning but also keeps us from being distracted by the audience. It seemed like a silly precaution when we were alone in Henry’s private studio, but now, in the middle of all the screaming, I’m really glad we thought of this in advance.
The stage lights shine hot and bright down on me, and their heat makes me feel like I’m slowly burning up. My heart beats superfast. Henry is motionless beside me, and I resist the urge to look up to see how he’s doing.
&n
bsp; There’s a commotion backstage, and all of a sudden, Davey Kim comes running out onto the stage. “Sorry, everyone,” he says, addressing the audience. He’s all sweaty and flustered, but he speaks with a cheerful calm. I can see why he was hired to be the emcee. “There seems to be an issue with the main camera. We’ll continue with our scheduled performances shortly.”
The audience boos and makes other sounds of disappointment. Personally, I’m not sure how I feel about the delay. Part of me is relieved, but another part of me just wants to get everything over with already.
“You doing all right?” Henry asks quietly after Davey leaves the stage.
By now, the crowd must be resigned to waiting, because the noise level drops to a dim roar that’s quiet enough for us to clearly hear each other.
“Yeah,” I say. “I mean, the delay sucks, but I guess it can’t be helped.”
I chance a glance up at him. His eyes are still on the ground, and despite how hard he’s trying to hide it, I can see from the way he’s frozen stiff that he’s really nervous. At first, I think I’m imagining it, but nope, he’s really shaking from head to toe.
“Hey, are you okay?” I ask him. He’s usually so calm that it’s scary to see him like this.
“Yeah. Sorry. Just stage fright.”
“Ah.” I think back to how he was also visibly nervous before the first elimination round. Curiosity gets the best of me, and before I can stop myself, I ask, “You’re so good with cameras and people, though. How do you have stage fright?”
He shrugs. “Photo shoots and interviews . . . all of that is different from being onstage like this. I’m not a K-pop star. And I’m not a stage actor.”
“True. But if you have such bad stage fright, how did you audition for this show? Why did you?”
“Pure determination and adrenaline. And the only reason I auditioned for the competition was because . . .” He winces. “You’re going to think I’m really shallow.”
“Try me.”
“My ex. I was trying to prove a point to my ex.”
I resist the urge to eye-roll. “Melinda? Is that why you guys had that fight on the first day of practice?”
He narrows his eyes, and I immediately regret bringing it up.
“No. That’s not why,” Henry says softly. “Well, I guess it’s kind of related, because it all boils down to her being an unkind person. I auditioned because she told me I was nothing but a pretty boy that got lucky.”
I don’t say anything, since this is exactly what Lana and I said the first day we saw Henry at auditions. Now I know that’s not true, because I know how hard Henry works to maintain his modeling career and how busy he is.
“So,” I start. “Sorry if this is the wrong time to bring it up, but . . . Melinda and I had a little . . . ‘chat’ two weeks ago. And she said you guys were just on a break.”
Henry groans. “Oh no, I’m so sorry you had to deal with her. But no, we’re done. Definitely. She dumped me, and I don’t do take-backs. After we broke up, I was really depressed. But then I found out about this competition and went, fine, I’ll prove to her that I’m good for something. I’m not just a pretty face. Honestly, I don’t care if I win or not. I just want to last longer than her in this competition.”
I can’t help but laugh. Despite our differences, Henry and I auditioned for You’re My Shining Star for the same reason. We both wanted to prove to someone that we’re more than our appearance.
“What’s so funny?” Henry asks, looking slightly hurt.
I explain, and he laughs. “Honestly, you have a far nobler cause,” he says. “I’m just being petty.”
“Petty or not, I need your help to make it to the next round, okay? I know you’re nervous, but just do what we did in practice and you’ll be fine. You can creepily stare into my eyes for the entire performance if that helps.”
“I’m not that bad,” Henry replies. “Honestly, by the time we start dancing, I’ll shake most of it off. It’s the waiting that always gets to me.”
Davey comes out again, grinning widely.
“They’re finally ready,” he says. “Thank you for waiting, everyone.”
The audience roars in approval and excitement. He gives the crowd a quick bow before getting off the stage.
Henry tenses up again, and I give his hand a reassuring squeeze.
“We can do this,” I tell him.
He squeezes my hand back just as the music starts.
We burst into action, spinning and moving around with the beat. Everything from the music to the audience is so loud that if it weren’t for the earpiece in my ear, I probably couldn’t hear the music. It’s pretty overwhelming, but I still push on.
My body takes over, and as I’m dancing, I’m only vaguely aware of the crowd and the cameras flitting across the stage around us. I’ve run through the choreography so many times that I barely register the way my body moves. Instead, I focus on being onstage with Henry. And I focus on the small smile that appears on Henry’s lips as he eases into the dance.
I’ve never been a couple-dance kind of person. I always thought that dancing with another person would tie me down. Limit me somehow. But dancing with Henry isn’t like that. Maybe it’s because I’m so at ease with him, but dancing with Henry is just as freeing as dancing by myself.
The spotlight flashes bright as it moves across the stage, casting shadows behind our dancing bodies. Henry drops me into a spontaneous dip as the camera zooms in close, and the crowd explodes into hoots and screams.
“Nice,” I whisper into his ear before he twirls me out.
He doesn’t have time to reply, but he smirks in a way that says, “Told you I’d be fine.”
And then, it’s over. The camera does a final pan across the stage before swerving to the cheering audience.
Henry and I smile, for the audiences, yeah, but also for each other. We did it. We made it through the entire routine without a single mistake. I see the ecstatic joy I’m feeling reflected in Henry’s eyes.
As we’re staring at each other, something in Henry’s expression shifts. He takes a step back and blinks like he’s confused. I’m about to ask him what’s wrong when Davey walks over to the front of the stage.
“What an astounding performance from Henry and Skye!” he says, gesturing at us in a grand flourish.
The roar of the audience is so loud that the judges have to wait before they can give us their evaluations. Everyone’s enthusiasm makes my heart flutter, and I’m about to turn back around to smile at Henry when I see Bora whispering something into Mr. Park’s ear. Mr. Park immediately whispers back, and Gary shoots both of them a confused look.
Uh-oh, I think. This can’t be good.
Everyone slowly stops clapping when they realize the judges aren’t showering us with praise. There’s a tense moment of silence, and the room grows so quiet you could hear a pin drop.
“Okaaay,” Gary says at last, still looking perplexed. I guess he couldn’t hear what the other two judges were whispering about. “I’ll go first. Henry and Skye, you two totally blew it out of the water. Even though everyone was assigned the same choreography, you guys somehow managed to make your rendition so unique and personal that everything was fresh and heart-stopping. Fantastic job.”
There are some cheers from the audience, although it’s obvious from the anticipation in everyone’s faces that they’re all waiting to hear from the other two judges.
Bora and Mr. Park stare at each other. Dread starts piling up inside of me like heavy weights, slowly suffocating me in a way that makes me want to scream, Just say it!
Finally, Bora leans forward to speak into the mic.
“I’m sorry, Miss Shin,” she says. “But Mr. Park and I have chosen to eliminate you from the dance portion of You’re My Shining Star.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
“WHAT?” HENRY CRIES OUT, AND HE’S NOT THE only person in the room voicing his disbelief. Gasps and confused murmurs in both Korean and English
fill the audience. Even Gary says into his mic, “You have got to be kidding me! Park, are you actually okay with this?”
At Gary’s protest, more voices join in the complaints, until I can’t hear anything but angry voices. But instead of rejecting what Bora said, Mr. Park just remains still in his seat, staring at me with a pensive look on his face.
Meanwhile, I’m speechless. Even though I’d been dreading it, nothing could have prepared me for the gut punch of finding out I’ve been eliminated for real. Instead of being comforting, the crowd’s complaints only makes the pressure inside my chest worse, because I can’t help but think of all the people who wrote on social media that I’m an inspiration. I can’t help but think of the countless other people who’ll see me eliminated when this episode airs.
You still have the vocal portion of the competition. You’re not completely eliminated yet.
I try to think positively, but I know it’s different. No one ever doubted my ability to sing just because of the way I look. No one told me I couldn’t sing because I’m fat.
“I thought you guys were eliminating people by group,” says Henry. He sounds really angry, and some part of me dully registers how sweet he’s being by standing up for me like this.
“We are,” Bora says with a glance back at the still-silent Mr. Park. “In most cases. But Miss Shin has proven herself to be . . . problematic and unprofessional. Perhaps in an American competition, a contestant like her would be tolerated, but not here. Mr. Park and I have agreed that in the Korean music industry, such unprofessionalism would not be acceptable, and especially not in the world of dance.”
As she finishes talking, an unmistakably triumphant smile flashes on her face. And then, I know. She’s making all this up. All so she can say that she’s won, and I’ve lost.
I feel sick. All my life, Mom’s been telling me that I can’t dance. Not because I’m not a good enough dancer but because of what I look like. It was painful enough to grow up with that, but it’s ten times more hurtful to see someone trying so hard to get me eliminated just because they think my size isn’t “professional.”
