I'll Be the One Page 9

  He motions at me, and my lip quivers, just a bit. I can’t help it. I feel like a little kid again, standing in the middle of the room as my ballet teacher singles me out to the class as an example of how a kid like me could never look graceful in a tutu. I feel the same way I felt all the times Mom made a comment about my body. And I know this is how she must have felt during all the times she was bullied as a kid.

  But as much as it hurts, I am not giving Bobby the satisfaction of seeing tears fall down my face. I squeeze my hands into fists, putting all my willpower into the effort not to cry.

  “How in the world did someone like her get in, anyway?” Bobby continues, still raging on like he’s reciting a monologue from a play. “It’s obvious she won’t get that far.”

  Someone like her.

  “Hey,” I say again. “Stop talking like I’m not here. And, come on, double standards much? You’re not skinny either. Shouldn’t fat guys like you support fat girls like me?”

  I didn’t want to go there, but it’s true. Bobby is a pretty big guy, which makes the fact that he’s hating on me, a fat girl, even more yucky.

  “Did you really just call me fat?” Bobby crosses his arms against his chest.

  I sigh and try my best to keep my voice level as I say, “Fat isn’t a bad word, Bobby. It’s just an adjective to describe our bodies, which, by the way, are beautiful just the way they are.”

  “Now you’re calling me beautiful?” Bobby’s face is all scrunched up in confusion, like I’m blowing this guy’s mind.

  Body Positivity 101! I want to yell at him. Look it up and educate yourself!

  The entire room’s still quiet around us, and I don’t have to look to know that the cameras are all focused on Bobby and me. It’d be nice to have some backup instead of just a bunch of spectators, but I guess life can’t always be good.

  “Enough,” Mr. Park says, stepping in between us. He doesn’t even look at me as he tells Bobby, “Mr. Lim, please remember that we have a schedule to follow. If you really do wish to switch partners, I advise that you get it sorted it out on your own time so you don’t keep the rest of the contestants waiting.”

  It bothers me that Mr. Park only seems to care about his freakin’ TV show, but it’s not surprising. He’s a producer, after all. He probably only cares about the money.

  I catch a glimpse of Bora and almost groan out loud. She looks so amused, like she’s the embodiment of that guy-eating-popcorn meme. For the first time since the audition, I wonder if all of this is even worth it.

  If I make it into the industry, I’m going to have to deal with people like this all the time. Even though I really do want to prove Mom, Bobby, and Bora wrong, I don’t know if this is the life I want for myself. I’m tired. Why should I have to stand up for myself all the time? Just because I’m fat doesn’t mean I have to let myself get hurt by these people over and over again. I’m not some spokesperson for all fat people, nor am I some martyr. I’m just one girl trying to achieve her dreams and live her own life.

  I’m about to turn on my heel and walk out of the studio when a voice comes from the back of the room, “Don’t know about you, Bobby, but I’d kill to be her partner. Skye’s an amazing dancer. And if you’re really that insecure about your ability to stay in this competition, I suggest you walk out right now.”

  Everyone turns around and gasps when they see that Henry Cho was the person who just spoke. His voice is colder than I’ve ever heard it before, so much that I didn’t recognize it.

  “But,” Bora says, “Henry—”

  Henry doesn’t even acknowledge Bora as he turns to look straight at me.

  “Skye, I’d love to be your partner,” he says. “If you’d like to be mine, of course.”

  Chapter Twelve

  IN AN INSTANT, MOST OF THE PEOPLE IN THE ROOM turn around to glower at me, like I got the last piece of food on a deserted island. I balk. This is so not fair. It’s not like I asked Henry to be my partner.

  For a moment, I consider saying no. I don’t need any more drama in my life, and I definitely don’t need the help of some celebrity to win this competition. I think back to how my friends were obsessing over him back at school. If he’s my partner, they probably won’t even pay attention to me when we perform.

  But then I take one more look at Bobby, who’s gone back to glaring at me like I’m the worst thing that happened to him. I may not need Henry’s help, but I can already tell that staying Bobby’s partner would be shooting myself in the foot.

  As I’m mulling things over, the cameras have somehow gotten even closer, so they’re practically in my face when I say to Henry, “Okay, sure. Let’s be partners.”

  Henry beams, and it’s freakin’ annoying how dashing he is, even when he’s just wearing a simple gray shirt and sweatpants. He joins us at the front of the room.

  As he walks by, people casually take out their phones and snap pictures of him like he’s walking down a red carpet. One girl doesn’t even bother putting her phone on silent first, so I can hear the loud, rapid CLICK-CLICK-CLICK-CLICK! of her camera app. I can’t help but think how rude it is to just casually snap pictures of someone like that. Even though Henry told me he’s used to it, I can’t imagine how scary and annoying it must be to not be able to do anything without someone recording it.

  When Henry reaches me, Bobby blurts out, “Wait, what about me?”

  Henry and I break eye contact, and it’s only then that I realize we’ve been staring into each other’s eyes this whole time. In the split second it takes for Henry to glance at Bobby, the smile drops from Henry’s face and he takes on a cool, blasé look.

  Jeez, I think. This guy should be an actor. Not a model.

  “Well, you can be with Henry’s originally assigned partner, Cassie Chang,” says Mr. Park.

  “What?” A girl who I assume is Cassie jumps to her feet and furiously marches up to us. “You mean Henry was supposed to be my partner?”

  She shoots Bobby a death glare, and Bobby actually shrinks back.

  “Well, yes,” Mr. Park continues. Even he seems taken aback by Cassie’s rage. “Unless Bobby still wants to partner up with Skye?”

  Bobby takes one good look at me and laughs. He actually laughs. “Hell nah.”

  “Well then,” says Mr. Park, “there you go.”

  Henry starts walking away, and just when I’m wondering if he’s forgotten about me, he looks over his shoulder at me and says, “Come on, let’s get started.”

  Cassie gives me the stink eye as I walk away.

  I join Henry at the back of the room, where he’d been sitting with his team. Henry introduces me to Portia, his manager, and Steve, his bodyguard and driver. Since I’ve seen them around for a while now, it’s nice to finally know their names. I give them both my friendliest smile.

  Portia glances at me nervously, as if she’s not sure if my being Henry’s partner is a good idea.

  “Portia, relax,” Henry says, giving her a reassuring grin. “She’s probably the best dancer in this competition. And she’s pretty awesome in general. You saw her last week.”

  Portia still looks pretty dubious, but she nods before she turns away.

  “Don’t take it personally,” Henry whispers to me. “She’s just annoyed that there was a last-minute change. Portia got the You’re My Shining Star team to tell her beforehand who I was assigned to and already ran a background check on Cassie. She’s nervous because we don’t know anything about you aside from the fact that you were in my group in the previous round.”

  A background check? It seems a bit extreme, but I guess this is what happens when you’re from a jaebol family.

  “Well,” I say, “I don’t know much about you either, so I guess the mystery is mutual.”

  Henry grins, throwing me off guard. “I know, right? How exciting. Just don’t try to sell my underwear on eBay, okay?”

  My mouth drops open, and I’m about to ask Henry if this is a problem he’s actually had when Mr. Park rais
es his hands to get everyone’s attention.

  “All right, now that that’s settled,” he continues, “I will run through the rules for this second round. In K-pop, dance is rarely a partner act, but mastering not only your own body but also how it works with other people is the greatest testament to the skill of a dancer. While the previous round was about seeing how well you stuck out in a crowd, this one is about teamwork. Dancing as a couple requires the same amount of training and synchronization—if not more—than dancing in a group. Many of our past winners were scouted for groups, so it’s important for you to show your mastery of working with another person. Although there will be a few exceptions, we will generally eliminate by pair rather than by individual. To even out the playing field, the basic choreography will be the same for everyone. You are responsible for changing it in a way that best fits your own style. Anything is permissible as long as you stay on the beat and keep things appropriate for children. Only ten of you will make it past this round.”

  “What’s the music?” Tiffany asks.

  “I was just going to get to that. Or rather, Miss Jang was. Take it away, Miss Jang.”

  From where she’s standing by the mirrors, Bora flashes everyone a confident smile. The dance studio door opens, and Chad comes in wearing sweats and a black snapback. He joins Bora at the front of the room and they get into position, tangling their limbs together in dramatic positions like a pair of figure skaters about to execute a passionate routine.

  Then, music starts blaring from the overhead speakers. It’s a really fast song, with a pounding bass line and dubstep interludes. Bora and Chad begin dancing with each other tango-style, then burst into an energetic pop-and-lock routine. The choreography is complex, mixing a whole bunch of different styles in a way that somehow comes together to form a really awesome whole.

  Almost instinctively, I track Bora’s movements, taking note of every flick of her wrist and which foot she uses to pivot during a turn. I even visualize myself moving along with her, syncing my breaths with hers so I get a sense of her flow. As I watch her, my entire body feels all tingly with excitement. Even though I don’t like Bora (and I know she really doesn’t like me), I can’t deny that she’s an amazing dancer. She’s flawlessly executing what looks like an impossible routine.

  I’m so lost in her dancing that I only barely process when the music stops. Everyone cheers for Bora and Chad. Despite the enthusiasm, though, everyone looks terrified.

  “That . . . was interesting,” says Henry.

  “Tell me about it,” I groan. “They really are weeding us out as much as possible.”

  “Yup.”

  I look around, and see variations of panic and despair in Tiffany’s, Imani’s, and Henry’s faces. This choreography is basically a death sentence.

  “Don’t panic yet,” Mr. Park says with a chuckle, addressing the entire room. “The first few hours of today’s practice will be learning the dance. Then, after everyone learns the basic moves, we will branch out into the individual pairs. After that, you will have an entire extra session of practice in two weeks. Please stand up and join Bora in front of the mirrors.”

  It’s only when I’m standing next to Henry that it occurs to me that dancing with him means that Henry will touch me and I’ll touch him. I know it’s a pretty duh thing to realize just now, but I guess I’m still processing the fact that all this is even happening.

  Even though I already danced in the same space as Henry, what we’re about to do now seems a lot different. I’m not sure how I feel about the fact that I’m about to dance quite intimately with him for the entire world to see.

  Heat rises up in my cheeks. In my reflection in the mirror, I’m blushing bright red like a tomato. Something else in the mirror catches my attention. I look away from my own face to see that Cassie is glaring daggers at me. And she’s not the only one.

  I sigh. Better get used to it now, I think. After all, this is just the beginning. Soon, I’ll have to dance with Henry in front of thousands—maybe even millions—of viewers watching You’re My Shining Star in the audience and on TV. My own friends are going to see me dance with Henry. Mom, Dad, everyone. If I can’t dance with him now, in the relatively private confines of a studio, I won’t be able to do it in front of all those people.

  In the end, I just try to forget he’s famous. It’s the only way I can get myself to relax and focus on learning the choreography.

  Bora and Chad slowly lead us through all the steps, going at half the tempo so everyone can follow along. Slowed down, the dance is a lot less intimidating, but even then, people are stumbling here and there. It’s a really hard routine.

  “You’re a pretty good dancer,” I say as I sync my movements to Henry’s. “I have to admit, I had my doubts when you showed up to the audition.”

  “So did a lot of people.” He shrugs, and before I can fully process what’s going on, Henry spins me around, gently raising my hand and guiding it so my body turns 360 degrees. Thankfully, my instincts take over, so even though my head is spinning, my body gracefully executes the turn without awkwardly twisting my legs.

  “And you’re a really awesome dancer,” he says with a grin. “Although I never doubted that.”

  “Well done!” exclaims Mr. Park from the front of the studio. “Looks like Mr. Cho and Miss Shin are off to a good start!”

  I glance up to see that the entire room is staring at us again. Even Bora and Chad stopped dancing to watch. Bora full-on glowers at me like she wishes I’d messed up.

  Her annoyance only makes me want to do better. I hold my head up high and give her a look that says, Yeah, I can dance. What are you going to do about it?

  She glances away first, scoffing like she can’t believe my nerve. I know it’s probably not a good idea to make an enemy of one of the judges, but I just can’t keep being intimidated by someone who’s so clearly a bully. Enough is enough.

  We’re running through the choreography again and again when something happens. At first, I think I imagined it, but then it happens again. Henry’s stomach growls. It’s quiet and barely audible over the music, but I’m positive it’s not my stomach, and everyone else is too far away.

  Henry notices my stunned expression and gives me a sheepish look. “Had to skip breakfast to beat traffic.”

  I frown at him. It’s past two now. He must be starving.

  “Don’t you have . . . people responsible for feeding you or something?” I ask, gesturing to his team at the back of the room.

  Henry gives me a startled look. “Oh, they’re just my PR team. Portia posts my pictures and takes care of logistics for me, while Steve makes sure I get where I need to go safely. I can’t ask them to fetch me food . . . that’s below their pay grade.”

  I shrug. “Some people do. I’ve heard stories about how celebrities order their staff to do chores and stuff like that.”

  He shakes his head. “I’m not that type of person. That’d be so insulting. I didn’t even ask Portia to spray me when I got injured during the first elimination round. She insisted on doing that herself.”

  I can’t help but respect him a little bit for saying that.

  Then, I get a pretty wild idea. I have no idea if he’d be down for it, but I figure it’s worth asking.

  “Hey, do you . . . wanna grab tacos after this?”

  Chapter Thirteen

  AS SOON AS THE WORDS LEAVE MY MOUTH, I realize it sounds like I’m asking him out.

  “Not as a date or anything,” I quickly add. “It’s just that if you’re hungry, I know this really good taco truck in Koreatown. And I’ve been craving tacos for weeks.”

  I think about asking Tiffany and everyone else if they want to tag along, too, but then I remember how Henry’s manager was nervous about me not being vetted, so I can’t imagine how she’d react to more strangers. As awkward as it’ll probably be, maybe Henry and I are better off going by ourselves.

  Henry cocks his head in a contemplative gesture and runs his han
d through his hair as he glances behind us at Portia and Steve. “I’ll have to ask Portia about my schedule, but if she says I’m free, I’m down. Come to think of it, I don’t think I even ate dinner last night.”

  “You don’t think?” I practically yell. A few people turn around to see what’s going on. I’m glad the camera crew is on break, because this is not something I want on camera. “What were you even doing yesterday?”

  Even as I’m saying all of this, I inwardly cringe. Everyone’s stares make me self-conscious, and for a half second, I’m afraid Henry will crack a “joke” about why I’m so “obsessed with food,” like a lot of people think fat people are. But he doesn’t. In fact, he actually looks kind of touched that I’m bringing this up.

  “I honestly don’t remember,” he says. “My schedule’s so busy these days that I just . . . forget to eat or sleep sometimes. It’s really bad, I know. But yeah, let’s definitely go get tacos afterward if I’m free. Thanks for the suggestion.”

  Henry’s team doesn’t seem happy about the idea, but they still meet us in front of the studio after practice. Henry himself, however, has a really bright smile on his face, like a little kid about to go to the candy store.

  “How did you convince them to let you go?” I whisper to Henry as we walk across the parking lot.

  “Oh, I just told them it’d be a great partner-bonding activity. Which is true. We’re going to have to become very comfortable with each other for the next few weeks.”

  He raises his eyebrows, and I look away before our eyes can meet. I’m still reeling from today’s turn of events, but that doesn’t mean I want to let my guard down around him. We might have to get through this round together, but at the end of the day, he’s still competition. With only ten people left after this round, I definitely can’t afford to get distracted by him.

  I only asked him out for tacos because I was genuinely concerned for him as a fellow human being. Or at least, that’s what I tell myself as we pile into the car.