“I think I just lost my appetite,” I say flatly.
Akari follows my eyes to the sign. “Oh,” she says. She laughs, trying to lighten my mood. “Come on, Mina’s not that bad.”
“Remember what happened at my bowing ceremony?”
Akari smiles, eyes crinkling. “Ooh, yeah, I love this story.”
On my first day as a DB newbie, I had no idea I was supposed to bow to the senior trainees at this ceremony. I was fresh off the plane from New York City—and even though both my parents are Korean, bowing isn’t really something you do all that much in the States. When I was a kid, it was just something we did when we visited my parents’ friends from church during the new year, and that was the full formal Korean bow (and it was worth it too, for the crisp twenty-dollar bill they always handed to us afterward). I thought the ceremony was just a welcoming event, a chance to meet the other trainees. Yujin-unni, knowing I wouldn’t know what to do, whispered in my ear that I should bow to the elder trainees. So I did—to the older teens standing in a row. But when I got to Mina, a girl my own age, I just stuck out my hand to shake hers, thinking it was the right (and polite!) thing to do. I might as well have kicked her in the stomach and spit in her hair for the tantrum she had.
By now Akari has taken over the story, mimicking Mina’s world-class meltdown. “ ‘Who does this bitch think she is?’ ” She crows with laughter. “ ‘She thinks she’s some kind of hotshot because she’s from America? Learn some manners, newbie.’ ” I roll my eyes, recalling how she immediately tattled on me to Mr. Noh, demanding I be punished for my lack of respect to a sunbae (literally anyone with more experience than you, even if that person is your same age or younger). Thankfully, Yujin put a stop to that. But since then, Mina has basically made it her goal in life to destroy me.
“God. The temper she has.”
“But you still didn’t bow, did you?” Akari says.
“It’ll take more than some rich daddy’s girl with a god complex to make me bow to Mina,” I say.
“That’s my girl.” Akari pats me on the back. “Young Rachel would be so proud of you.” I flash her a quick smile, but inside, my heart starts to sink. If I could go back in time, knowing the proper etiquette, would I really do it the same way? I want to say yes, that obviously I would put Mina in her place, but even I don’t know if I’m being honest with myself. I think back to the way I ran out of the training room this morning, the way I avoid confrontation with all the other trainees—Yujin’s always telling me to rise above, to focus on training, and I play those words over in my head constantly. But… would eleven-year-old Rachel be proud of me? Or would she call me a coward?
Akari and I join the ceremony onstage, waiting our turn in line with the other senior trainees to receive bows from the newbies.
“Excuse me,” Lizzie snaps at us. “Princess and her pawn to the back of the line.” The girls around us gasp in shock.
Beside me, Akari whirls around to face her. “Excuse you,” she snaps back, her face inches from Lizzie’s, her eyes narrowed in anger. “We’re more senior than you. We’re not going anywhere.”
Lizzie’s eyes nervously dart over to Mina, who’s looking at us with a smug smile on her face. But there’s nothing she can say—they both know Akari is right. “Whatever,” she huffs, clearly defeated. “You’re still foreigners.” All around us, trainees are staring and giggling. I’ve had enough.
“Come on, Akari,” I mutter, my cheeks bright pink. “It’s not worth it.”
I can tell Akari is seething by the way she walks, back tall and stiff, but she follows my lead. It’s not worth it, I tell myself. It’s unprofessional to throw down at the newbie ceremony. I’m no Mina.
Instead, we make our way over to the banquet table. Yujin grabs my hand, squeezing it hard. “Everything okay up there? It looked… tense.”
I give her a tight smile. “It’s fine. Nothing to worry about,” I say as I ignore her arched brow and grab a plate. Distractedly, I reach for a sandwich, intent on eating away this shame spiral that’s started to grow in my stomach, when Akari pulls my hand back, shaking her head.
“Cucumber,” she says, pointing to the sign.
“Gross.” I shudder, plopping a white pizza bacon grilled cheese on my plate instead. “Thanks. You saved my life.”
“What are friends for?” She smiles. “Plus, I’m never reliving the horrific cucumber catastrophe of 2017. I still get nightmares thinking about you vomiting all over the cafeteria after one tiny bite of cucumber salad.”
“Don’t blame me! Cucumbers are like the jogging exercises of the vegetable world! People pretend to like them because they’re supposed to be healthy for you, but really, they’re the worst. And they leave a horrible taste in your mouth. And they should be illegal.”
“Sorry, but I believe cucumbers are technically a fruit?” Akari laughs, and I throw a crumpled napkin at her face.
Walk into any K-pop trainee lesson and you’ll find some of the most talented teens in the world—expert dancers, accomplished singers, and of course, world-class gossipmongers. “I heard he dyed his hair orange,” Eunji says.
“Not just any orange, but the exact same custom shade that Romeo from BigM$ney has,” a first-year trainee in silver pants chimes in, his voice barely past puberty.
Looks like class is in session.
All the gossip, of course, is focused on one thing: Jason Lee, DB’s newest K-pop star and the latest addition to the coveted plaque on the yearbook, after his group, NEXT BOYZ, debuted at #1 with their single “True Love.” You couldn’t take a step onto campus—or anywhere in Seoul, really—without hearing Jason’s brooding tenor singing about finding his one true love. Mr. Noh had never looked happier. But now, apparently, sweet, humble, loyal Jason and the execs are in a big fight and no one knows why. I sip a can of Milkis, happy to forget all about my day and listen to the theories swirl around me.
“I heard he stole from Mr. Noh’s vinyl record collection,” a third voice whispers, hiding behind thick reddish-brown bangs.
“Angel Boy? Stealing? He would never!”
“Would Mr. Noh even notice? He has, like, a thousand records.”
“Are you serious? He’s obsessed with those records.”
“Who cares if he’s a thief? He’s too cute to be fired!” Half a dozen trainees all start nodding in agreement.
I shake my head slightly in disbelief. Stolen records and dyed hair? That’s the worst the vicious DB rumor mill can come up with? A few months ago, when a female trainee, Suzy Choi, was suddenly let go in the middle of a training cycle, rumors had run rampant that she had a drug problem and she owed thousands of dollars to her dealers, who sold her to one of those North Korean–themed restaurants in Cambodia. (Akari, on the other hand, claimed she had seen Suzy on the street holding hands with some cute boy, but I don’t believe it. There’s no way Suzy would have ever broken DB’s strict “no dating” rule—in this industry, illicit drugs are more believable than an illicit boyfriend.) Another time last year, my mom and dad were both working on a Sunday and asked me to bring Leah to training with me—the rumors that she was my illegitimate child and that I took care of her during the week and that was the reason I didn’t train during the week have only just died down. Of course, the fact that I’m only five years older than her didn’t seem to matter to anyone.