I'll Be the One Page 17

  I know I should say something, I know I should fight back and be strong for the people in the audience and for everyone who’ll eventually see this episode at home. But what can I say? If I defend myself, Bora will use it against me somehow. And I’m so tired of always having to fight.

  My lip quivers, but I don’t cry. I’m not going to let Bora see me break down onstage.

  “Are you just going to keep sitting there and let her talk for you, Park?” Gary asks. “Jesus, I thought you were better than this.”

  Mr. Park slowly sits up, as if breaking out of some deep train of thought. “Please calm down, Gary. Perhaps you are too American to understand our decision, but I’m afraid this is a decision that Miss Jang and I have both made.”

  The producer then stares directly at me, and he actually looks sad as he says, “I apologize, Miss Shin. But I do wish you luck on the other half of the competition. Like I’ve said multiple times, you are clearly talented, and it’d be such a shame to completely lose you so early.”

  I can’t tell if Mr. Park means his words as a threat or as an encouragement. Maybe they’re a little bit of both. But the message is clear. Don’t get yourself eliminated for both.

  And I can’t help it. Even though I know I’ll be letting thousands of viewers down, I worked way too hard to completely let go of my chances at this competition now.

  I clench my fists and bow first at Mr. Park and then at Gary, who still looks like he’s about to walk out of the room. I skip Bora, because, duh.

  “Thank you. I’ll see you at our next practice.”

  Mr. Park gives me a firm nod.

  Davey walks over to usher us offstage. Henry puts up a fight at first, but sadly falls limp when he sees that I’m not resisting. I don’t meet his eyes. I can’t. Not after I didn’t say anything to defend myself.

  Once we’re backstage, Imani and Tiffany pounce on us, much to the chagrin of the stage manager. I can tell from her annoyed expression that they’re not supposed to be out here.

  “I can’t believe the judges just did that!” Tiffany exclaims.

  “Oh my gosh, Skye,” says Imani. “Are you okay?”

  By then, I’m barely holding it together. But somehow, I manage, mostly because of the cameras that have gathered around us. They already caught me in one compromised situation today. I don’t want to let them witness another one.

  “Excuse me,” the stage manager says before I can think of what to say. “Please only stay here if you haven’t performed yet. Everyone else has to leave.”

  “I’m gonna go,” I say. “I’ll talk to you guys later.”

  “Wait.” Henry grabs my arm before I can turn around. “Let me go with you. I’ll give you a ride back home.”

  It only hits me then that I don’t have a ride back home without Lana or Tiffany. That’s how out of it I am.

  “Okay,” I say. “Thanks.”

  I follow Henry out to the parking lot, where Portia and Steve are waiting in the SUV. As soon as we’re in the privacy of the back seat, Henry places a hand on my shoulder and asks, “Hey, you want to talk about what happened? Or, I don’t know, do you want to grab a bite to eat before we drop you off? You didn’t have time to eat between the two rounds, right? You must be starving.”

  As if on cue, my stomach growls, and I only then remember that I haven’t eaten anything since this morning. But I don’t feel like eating.

  Maybe Bora’s right. The thought comes into my head before I can stop it. Maybe I should try to lose weight again.

  Tears well up in my eyes as I think about the years I spent hating myself and my body. Entire days and even weeks went by when I barely ate anything, until I didn’t even feel hungry anymore. I did lose a few pounds, but it was only a few compared to the crushing amounts of emotional pain I felt. No matter how much I worked out and no matter how little I ate, it was never enough. Do I really want to go back to living like that? Is there even hope for me in this industry without it? Sure, Bora is just one person. But there are probably countless like-minded people in the business. After all, she managed to get Mr. Park on her side.

  I wonder if I should just give up now.

  “Hey,” Henry tries again. “Let’s go to In-N-Out. Or, I don’t know, anywhere else you want. You don’t look well. You should eat something. I’m pretty hungry too.”

  And that’s all it takes for me to completely lose it. Ugly sobs force their way out of my chest. I’m so ashamed that I almost let Bora think I wasn’t good enough, that I almost let her win. I think about the posters I saw in the audience today, about all the posts on social media, and about what Lana said about me being an inspiration to the people watching me on TV. I feel like a big phony, and today, I feel like I let all those people down.

  Without hesitation, Henry pulls me tight into his arms.

  His grip is firm but gentle, and his body heat is so comforting that part of me wishes I could stay in his arms forever. But I get ahold of myself and pull away. When I do, large, wet puddles of snot and tears stain the gray fabric of his tank top. I’m so embarrassed that I cry even harder.

  “Sorry,” I say in between my sobs. “I made a mess of your shirt.”

  “No, no,” says Henry. “Don’t apologize. It’s just a shirt. I may be a model, but I’m not that superficial.”

  He tries to smile at me, but his eyes are still so sad, even with his lopsided grin. This makes me cry more.

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to just sue all of them?” Henry asks. “Because this is thinly veiled discrimination. There was this guy in auditions who literally called Mr. Park an ‘old man’ and he still got in. Our family lawyer would have a field day with their ‘professionalism’ argument.”

  I cringe, thinking about how my mom would react if this turned into an entire lawsuit. She’d probably never speak to me again. And it’s not like I want to ruin the entire competition, either, not when it’s such an important opportunity for so many people. Besides, at the end of the day, I’m still in this competition through the singing category.

  I still have a chance to win on my own terms.

  I explain my reasoning to Henry, and he grimly replies with, “Fair.”

  “I appreciate it, though. Really.”

  He sighs. “Okay, then, what now?”

  “Let’s go to In-N-Out,” I say. “What happened with Bora sucks, but I can’t let her stop me from eating good food and living my life. I’ll worry about everything else tomorrow, but for now, I need a break.”

  “Okay,” replies Henry. “Animal-style fries today, competition tomorrow. You’re going to knock everyone out of the vocals competition. I’m totally Team Skye, by the way.”

  I snort, but my insides feel all warm and fuzzy.

  I only then realize how close Henry is to me now. Our noses almost touch, and his body heat again feels so good against my skin.

  I’m about to kiss Henry when Steve clears his throat loudly from the front and says, “Excuse me. So, which In-N-Out are we going to?”

  It’s the first time I’ve heard Steve talk, but his voice isn’t much of a surprise. He even sounds like the Rock.

  Henry and I fall back against the back seat and laugh.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  AT VOCAL PRACTICE THE FOLLOWING SATURDAY, our group is much smaller. Including me, ten people were eliminated from both vocals and dance, leaving the top ten for each category. Tiffany was eliminated from the dance category after me, so my only consolation is the fact that Imani and Lana made it to the next round while Bobby and Cassie did not.

  The next challenge turns out to be a “versus battle,” where each person will be mentored by one of the judges and then be pitted against another contestant in the next elimination round.

  I expect Gary to “adopt” me, but he backs out, saying there’s nothing he’d be able to teach me that I don’t already know. Mr. Park chooses me without hesitation and makes me practice with a vengeance, pushing me into singing songs in styles I’ve ne
ver sung before, having me improvise and switch keys, and assigning me set practice times to follow at home.

  “This is how hard you’ll have to work once you become a trainee,” he tells me and the rest of his mentees. “If you can’t handle this now, this path is not for you.”

  He seems to be training me extra hard, though, and by the end of the first week, I’m close to losing my voice. I’m wondering if he’s trying to get me to drop out of the competition when I realize he’s doing the opposite. As he pushes me, his expression isn’t malicious at all, but determined and benevolent. It’s like he’s trying to get me to be the best vocalist I can be to make up for the fact that he eliminated me from the dance part of the competition.

  Besides nearly losing my voice, everything is now admittedly a lot easier. Without having to worry about the dance part of the competition, I have more time to do homework and hang out with my friends from school. Although I stopped watching You’re My Shining Star after that first episode, Clarissa and Rebecca give me the play-by-play every Saturday night. And I have to admit, even though all the antics on the show are things I’ve witnessed myself in real life, it’s ten times more hilarious to see my friends react to them during our weekly FaceTime sessions like my life is some dramatic sitcom.

  “OMG, I almost died during that moment between Melinda and Henry!” Clarissa exclaims. “That tension!”

  “Skye!” Rebecca yells. “You did not just pick one of Lee Hi’s songs for your first song. That ambition, though!”

  “You and Henry are totally going to date,” Clarissa says with a resigned sigh. “I can already see it. He only had eyes for you during the auditions!”

  I don’t respond to that last one. Even though Henry and I don’t really have an excuse to interact with each other anymore, we’ve been FaceTiming almost every day since the second elimination round, switching to text when my voice can’t handle it. Neither of us have tried to DTR, but I like the way things are now.

  Or at least, I think I do, until Henry stops replying to my texts again and I’m left with nothing but questions. In the end, though, I just assume that work caught up to him. After all, it’s not like we’re dating. He’s not obligated to always answer my texts.

  In what seems like almost no time at all, it’s Halloween. Rather than doing something scary for the holiday, though, Tiffany has a better idea. She texts Lana and me in our group chat.

  TIFFANY LEE: Hey Skye, with the third elimination round coming up next week, Lana’s been pretty stressed and anxious. And I know you probably are too. Wanna come to the Korean spa with us?

  Lana jumps in.

  LANA MIN: OMG YAS! Let’s get rid of all that toxic stress and treat ourselves to a spa day!!!

  And I have to admit, it sounds like a really nice idea. In theory.

  But my heart still starts pounding, even more than it ever does onstage. Performances in front of thousands of people, I can handle. But a trip to the Korean spa? Nope. No way. The thing about Korean spas is that everyone is naked, or at least, they are in the bathing area sectioned off for each gender. Sure, you can always skip washing up and change directly into the spa uniform instead, but doing that is kind of a waste of money, since most of the expense comes from running the baths. And not bathing before going into the sauna rooms when everyone else is clean also sounds too gross and rude for me to even think about.

  Although I don’t have problems with my naked body, I have way too many bad memories of my mom comparing me to every other girl in the Korean spa.

  “Look how slim that girl’s waist is!” she’d say. “And that other girl’s thighs! Haneul, look how beautiful everyone is. Don’t you want to be beautiful?”

  Yeah, it got old pretty fast. Although I doubt Lana and Tiffany would be mean enough to make comments like that about my body, I can’t help but feel uneasy. I’ve never even gone to the Korean spa with my school friends, and I’ve known them for years.

  ME: Sorry, I’m not much of a spa person. You guys should go without me!

  TIFFANY LEE: Oh, come on. It’ll be fun! AND you can invite Henry.

  I can almost see Tiffany raising her eyebrows right now.

  LANA MIN: Yeah!!! DEFINITELY invite Henry.

  I laugh to myself as I reply.

  Henry’s definitely not a spa person.

  Of course, I don’t know him well enough to know that for sure, but there’s zero privacy in a Korean spa. He’d probably be lucky if no one secretly took a photo of him naked and posted it online. It sounds like a celebrity’s worst nightmare.

  LANA MIN: You can still ask? Please? Tiffany and I go to the spa together all the time, so it won’t be as fun if you guys don’t come.

  I send multiple upside-down-smiley-face emojis.

  ME: Fine. But if Henry doesn’t want to come, I’m not going either.

  I say this only because I’m sure that Henry would never say yes. He hasn’t responded to me for several days now. He probably won’t even reply to my text.

  Much to my horror, Henry responds back only a few seconds later with, Sure. Sounds fun. Which spa?

  I’ve never felt so betrayed by Henry. Why can’t he be too busy to respond when I really need him to be?

  When I don’t reply for more than an hour, I get a text from Tiffany.

  Well?

  ME: . . .

  TIFFANY LEE: . . . ???

  ME: He said yes.

  LANA MIN: YAY! Coming to pick you up in a bit!

  I sigh and start getting my stuff ready for the spa.

  Hopefully it won’t be as bad as I think it’ll be.

  Lana drives us to the spa, which is on the outskirts of Koreatown. It’s a Saturday in an unusually chilly October, so I’m not really surprised that the parking lot is nearly full, even though it’s Halloween. We barely manage to find a space, and it takes me a while to spot Henry’s car toward the back of the lot. I can’t tell if there’s anyone in it, so I shoot him a text.

  Hey, are you inside?

  HENRY CHO: Nah, still in the car. Can you come here for a sec?

  We walk over to the SUV. Even when we’re right next to it, Henry doesn’t come out. I’m wondering if I was wrong about it being Henry’s when I get another text.

  HENRY CHO: Um . . . you didn’t tell me you were coming with friends.

  Shoot, I think, feeling instantly guilty. Heat flares up in my cheeks, and I hope Henry can’t see me blush from behind the SUV’s tinted windows. Sorry! I text back. Wait, did you think this was a date or something?

  Henry types something. And then stops. I wait for him to continue. He doesn’t. As more time passes, my cheeks get hotter.

  “What’s wrong?” Lana asks then. “Why isn’t he coming out? Why are you blushing?”

  I start to show Lana my phone when I get a series of rapid-fire texts from Henry.

  Wait!

  Don’t show her the phone. Too embarrassing.

  I’m coming out.

  I’m fumbling in my efforts to hide my phone from Lana when the SUV’s back door opens, revealing Henry and his dog, Snowball.

  “Oh my gosh!” I scream. “It’s Snowball!”

  At the sound of her name, Snowball jumps out of the car. She’s so big that she knocks me over, and I’m a giggling, screaming mess as she licks my face. Lana and Tiffany kneel down to pet her, and soon, Snowball’s bouncing up and down as she tries to lick all of our faces.

  “I know how much of a Snowball fan you are,” Henry says. “So I brought her. She isn’t going to the spa with us, unfortunately, for obvious reasons.”

  By then, I’ve calmed down enough to notice that Henry’s wearing a “disguise” again, although I’m not sure how much a hoodie and glasses will help him when he needs to change—and strip—in the locker room.

  “Hi, Skye!” Portia says from the passenger seat. Steve gives me a friendly wave.

  Introductions aren’t as awkward as I thought they would be. After Snowball settles back inside the car, Tiffany and Henry j
ust nod at each other while Lana says, “So you’re Henry Cho. You know, I thought you’d be a total jerk. But you brought your dog here for Skye . . . so I guess you’re all right in my book.”

  “Well,” Henry says, “I’m glad I have your approval now.”

  He laughs, but it’s the same fake laugh he gave everyone on the first day of the competition. His eyes are guarded as he looks from Tiffany to Lana, and by now, I know him well enough to know he must be feeling really uncomfortable. Again, I feel guilty for forgetting to tell Henry that it wasn’t going to be just the two of us.

  “Oh, so,” he continues, “I guess this is as good a time as any to tell you guys that I’ve never been to a Korean spa before.”

  “You’ve never been to a jjimjilbang?” Lana asks.

  “Nope.” He grimaces. “My family’s always been too well known in Korea to go to public places like this. I always wanted to go, though. The ones in Korean dramas look really fun.”

  “Er . . . are you sure that you want to come inside with us?” Lana asks. “It’s a Saturday, so it’ll probably be really crowded.”

  Henry glances at me before responding, “I’ll be fine. I checked the spa website, and people aren’t allowed to take pictures in the locker rooms or the bathing areas. Plus, I’ll have Steve with me.”

  As if on cue, Steve opens the driver’s door and steps out. He’s not wearing his usual suit, just a normal black shirt and a pair of sweatpants. Even in casual clothes, though, Steve is so tall and built that he looks intimidating.

  “Whoa,” says Lana. “He’s like twice my size.”

  Steve gives us a sheepish grin.

  “Is Portia coming?” I ask.

  “I’m fine, sweetie!” Portia says from inside the car. “I have a lot of work to catch up on, so I’ll just stay here with Snowball. Thanks for asking, though!”

  “You guys go ahead,” Henry says. “Steve and I will check in together afterwards. Don’t want to attract too much attention.”

  “All right,” I say. “See you.”

  The lobby is pretty crowded with people either lounging about on the sofas or waiting to be checked in to the spa. There are cute jack-o’-lanterns and other Halloween decorations everywhere, but no one is in costume as far as I can tell. Practically everyone is Korean, and as we line up at the front counter, a few people turn around to stare at us. At first, I think they’re staring because Henry changed his mind and followed us inside. But when I look back, he’s nowhere in sight.