Eunji and Lizzie circle around me, laughing and sipping from their glasses. “Pretty little Princess Rachel—even Mr. Noh can’t save you now,” Lizzie gloats.
I hear it all like I’m at the bottom of a swimming pool. Somebody says something, and I start laughing, too—uncontrollably—though I have no idea why.
“Come on, Princess. Let’s dance!” Eunji is pulling me to standing, and I’m still laughing—or she is—or both. I’m not sure. Through my lashes, which suddenly seem heavy, I see Mina hovering not too far away, but not dancing. Her phone is pointed in my direction, and she’s wearing an evil smirk. Eunji spins me around, and the room spins with us, into a sea of sparkling lights and laughing faces.
Four
The first thing I notice when I wake up is how badly my head is throbbing. The second is the all-consuming smell of dried cucumbers.
I gag, my hands flying up to my face. It’s covered in a cucumber face mask. Horrified, I rip the thin cucumber slices off my face and throw them on the floor, trying not to breathe through my nose. Nausea rises in me, and it takes all my effort not to throw up all over myself.
What the hell happened last night?
I sit up and my head spins. Squeezing my eyes shut, I take three deep breaths, then open my eyes again and look around. I’m on a couch in a living room littered with empty cups and overturned bottles. It slowly comes back to me. I’m in the trainee house. The late-night training session turned out to be a party. Jason saw me in my pajamas. I grimace at the memory. We walked into the house together. And then… what happened? And where is everyone now?
Head still pounding, I fumble in my bag for my cell phone to check the time. My eyes widen. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. It’s already 11:00 a.m. It’s 11:00 a.m. on a Sunday. I leap to my feet and stumble down the hallway, flinging open doors and trying to find the bathroom. I can’t believe I overslept on a training day. This can’t be happening.
I’m woefully lost in the unfamiliar house. A part of me wants to blame this on Umma. If she had ever let me come to the trainee house, I’d know my way around better. But I know that this isn’t her fault; it’s all mine. In one night I’ve proven Umma right and everyone who’s ever believed in me wrong. Oh god, Rachel, why do you have to be so freaking gullible?
I push open doors and find only bedrooms and one disheveled linen closet with what looks (and smells) like dried vomit in it. I push back my own gag reflex as I slam the door shut.
Why is it that when you most need a bathroom, you can never find one? Frustrated after the fifth door leads me to a broom closet, I run back to the kitchen and wash my face in the sink. I dry myself with fistfuls of paper towels and, using my phone camera as a mirror, try to make myself as presentable as possible. I do a hasty job with my eyeliner, but it’ll have to do for now.
My clothes are a mess. There are champagne stains on my leggings and remnants of the cucumber face mask smeared all over my sweater. I try not to gag again. Instead, I grit my teeth and grab the only other clothes I have. Looks like Jason isn’t going to be the only person who has to see my Snoopy pajamas.
I yank my hair out of its flyaway braids as I run out of the house. I may smell like a cucumber compost bin, but maybe my hair can be salvaged. I take a quick glance at my phone camera, hoping to see beach waves. Instead I see half my hair flattened against my head while the other half is frizzing up like an electrocuted Albert Einstein.
I’m a fucking disaster.
But I don’t have time to fix anything now. I’m already way too late. I race down the street to DB headquarters, throwing my hair into a bumpy ponytail, my nausea rising in my chest with every step.
By the time I yank open the door to the auditorium, I’m out of breath and sweating through Snoopy. Mr. Noh is already onstage, introducing the DB execs, all of whom are sitting in the first row of seats.
The execs. The execs are here. My stomach fills with dread. Appraisal day.
All the head trainers are onstage. Yujin. The lead dancing trainer. The lead vocal trainer. The head nutritionist. Mr. Bae, the head of marketing and publicity. Everyone is gathered to watch the progress of the trainees, to decide if we get to stay in the program, if we’re really worth their time or money. It’s the one day that I can’t be late. The one day I can’t show up looking like I got run over by a cucumber-filled garbage truck. My heart is permanently lodged in my throat, and I can feel tears burn at the back of my eyes, but I push them away. Don’t show weakness. If you’re going to survive this, you have to be strong.
“We’re looking forward to seeing how far each of you have progressed in the last month,” Mr. Noh says, the reflection off his shiny bright-blue Prada suit making my eyes water. “The executives and I know you’ve all been training very hard, so—”
He breaks off when his eagle eyes catch mine. For a second he looks stunned, taking in my unkempt hair and ridiculous pajamas. Everyone else in the auditorium turns toward me. Whispers rise, harsh sounds that fill my ears and make my head feel like it might split open right on the auditorium floor.
“So, ah, remember to do your best today,” Mr. Noh continues, regaining his composure. He raises his eyebrows at me. “Your very best.”
There’s nothing to do now but pretend like I’m not so embarrassed I want to melt out of my own skin. I hold my head up high and make my way toward Akari, who’s staring at me with her jaw dropped open. A wave of envy sweeps through me as I take in her perfect makeup, bouncy ponytail, and a cropped, floral sweatshirt we bought at A-Land together a few months ago. She looks polished. Prepared. Well rested. Like I should look. Like everyone expects me to.
“What happened to you?” she whispers as I take a seat next to her.
“It’s a long story.” I sigh. “But I’m not too sure what exactly…”
I trail off as I notice Mr. Noh staring at me from the stage, his face frozen in a dangerous smile. “As I was saying, today is not just about your monthly appraisals.…”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Mina and the other girls silently laughing behind their hands. Mina catches my eye and wiggles her fingers. She mimes holding up an invisible champagne glass for a toast and mouths, Cheers. Last night comes rushing back at me in a vicious wave. The champagne. Mina’s face and seeing double. Her gleeful voice crowing, “It worked!”
“… an exciting new opportunity—the chance every young trainee in Korea would kill for. Today, one of you…”
A wave of nausea hits, and I almost double over.
I didn’t drink too much or lose control. And this isn’t just some terrible and unlucky coincidence. This whole thing is Mina. She did this. She’s the one who handed me the glass of champagne, who goaded me into drinking it as her friends watched.
She put something in my drink.
She drugged me.
The reality of it hits like a ton of bricks. I’m completely frozen and powerless. Violated. Furious. I grit my teeth so hard I feel like they’re going to crack. I’m going to explode. In my head I keep replaying the image of Mina standing over me, cackling, “She’ll never get chosen now!”
“… chosen to be featured in a brand-new single with DB superstar Jason Lee!”