Go Jenny, Year 3, Schedule: Monday to Thursday
8–8:10 Homeroom/Class Attendance
8:10–9:35 Period 1 or 4
9:40–11:05 Period 2 or 5
11:10–12:35 Period 3 or 6
12:40–13:15 Lunch
13:20–16:00 Arts
16:05–18:00 Study Hall
On Fridays, the schedule changes
9–9:10 Homeroom/Class Attendance
9:10–10:25 Arts
10:30–12:35 Study Hall
12:40–13:15 Lunch
13:20–16:00 Arts
Sunday night I go over my schedule for the one hundredth time. I have my own separate study hall when my classmates are taking Korean, English, science, and history. But I’ll sit with them in classes like computer, math, and PE, and of course all the music classes, which includes orchestra and solo performance.
I’m also enrolled in dance, an elective that I was sorted into last-minute due to my late transfer. I’m fine with it for now, but I need to talk to my counselor to see if I can switch it to a study hall. As a musician, I don’t lack rhythm, but my body doesn’t know that.
When my alarm goes off the next morning, Sori is already gone. I take my time getting ready, just now realizing the biggest pro of a uniform—I don’t have to decide what to wear in the morning.
In the hall, I’m immediately glad I showered the night before because there’s already a line forming outside the communal bathroom. I find an open space in front of the mirror to apply eyeliner and a sweep of gloss to my lips. I actually don’t know what the dress code is for makeup, but with so many cosmetic cases lined up in front of the glass, it can’t be that strict.
Since it’s the first day, an all-school assembly is being held in the world-renowned concert hall. As I make my way toward the building, I look around for the boy and girl I’d met in the student center last night, Gi Taek and Angela. I’m feeling jittery and anxious, my gaze darting across the quad, heart stopping every time my eyes land on a particularly tall boy. I try to tell myself it’s first-day-of-school nerves, first-day-of-school-in-a-new-country nerves. And while that’s a part of it, I know I’m also nervous about seeing Jaewoo. I just want to get this second meeting over with so that I can get on with my life in Seoul.
Inside the auditorium, students are already finding their seats.
“Jenny!” My heart stops, but it’s Gi Taek, heading over with Angela in tow.
“You’ll need to fix your tie,” he says, in place of good morning. “You’ll get demerits if one of the teachers notice.”
“I love your hair!” Angela says, gesturing to my side pigtails, which I mostly braided out of stress.
“Let’s take our seats before it gets too crowded,” Gi Taek says.
We enter through the double doors and I have to stop for a moment to take in my surroundings. The performance hall is huge with a high domed ceiling to maximize sound and acoustics. The stage is a gorgeous rosewood-mahogany color, the seats fanned out from the center for optimal viewing.
“I see three seats together!” Angela points to the back row. “Let’s take them before someone else does.”
I look for my roommate as we make our way over and spot her a few rows down to the left. She’s sitting apart from the rest of the students, with the two seats on either side of her—and in back and front of her—empty. Yet her isolation seems like a choice she made rather than for any other reason. She sits with her arms crossed, gaze straight ahead, giving off talk-to-me-and-you’ll-die vibes.
I’m immediately distracted when someone shouts, “Yah! Choi Youngmin!”
I whip my head in the direction of the doors where Youngmin has just waltzed through. The noise in the auditorium rises as kids start whispering to each other in excitement.
Youngmin skips to the front, joining a group of first year boys who give him high-fives.
Then Nathaniel steps through the doors, and it’s truly as if a celebrity has arrived, his hair artfully messed and his tie askew. It’s strange to see him in real life, when I spent all weekend watching him in videos. I wonder if it’s just as weird for the students at SAA who’ve gone to school with him and the rest of the members of XOXO, to see their peers, maybe even their friends, achieve the dream they’ve wanted for so long.
Nathaniel takes the closest available seat to him in the section for Year Three and is immediately swarmed by girls.
I manage to tear my gaze away long enough to notice that Sori’s attention has shifted to the door. As if realizing this herself, she quickly looks ahead.
At 8:09 another student slips into the auditorium, but it’s not Jaewoo. Then another, and another. At 8:10 exactly, a teacher appears and shuts the doors.
Is he late? No, he would have come with his bandmates, if he was going to come at all. Maybe he’s decided to finish his diploma online. Or he’s doing some sort of promotional work overseas. K-pop idols do stuff like that all the time, right?
I’m so caught up in my own thoughts, I almost fail to notice the woman who walks onto the stage, taking her place behind a podium.
She introduces herself as the principal of Seoul Arts Academy, an institution that was established fifty years ago and has taught many prestigious alumnae, including a few names that get “oohs” and “aahs” from the students. She goes on to talk about the expectations the academy has of its students, which includes upholding the reputation of the school in conduct and character, as well as dedication to the arts above all things. She also mentions something called the “Senior Showcase,” which creates a stir of interest among the students.
“All seniors are required to participate,” Principal Lee informs us, “whether as a part of an ensemble, collaborators, or soloists. This is the best opportunity to showcase your talent. Representatives from all the major universities will be in attendance, as well as a few from overseas, Berklee College, Tokyo University of the Arts, and the Manhattan School of Music.”
She goes on to say that recruiting officers from the major entertainment labels will also be in attendance, but I’ve stopped listening. A representative from MSM will be in the audience on the night of the showcase. If I can get a solo and put on a great performance, then I might be a shoo-in. I can feel my heart start to race. Everything is falling into place, the stars aligning.
“And now we’ll have our welcome address from this year’s senior class president.”
Until now, the students had been sitting politely through the principal’s address, but now they start to whisper excitedly to one another.
My heart, which had stuttered to a halt, picks up again.
A familiar figures steps from the wings. Jaewoo, Karaoke Boy, K-pop idol, and the senior class president of my high school.
