I should have dropped dance when I had the chance. At this rate, I’m going to fail a class, and it doesn’t matter how amazing my portfolio is or how well my audition goes, I’ll never get into a top music school with a failing grade.
“You weren’t kidding about your lack of dance skills,” Nathaniel says after the third time I’ve stepped on his foot in a half hour. At the start of class, Ms. Dan told us to all grab partners, and before I could ask someone else, Nathaniel had practically tackled me. “Honestly, I think you’re doing the world a service by playing cello,” Nathaniel muses. “At least you have to sit for it.”
Outside, thunder rumbles in the distance, storm clouds rolling in from the west. We’re due for a downpour. Hopefully tonight, when I’m back in the dorms.
“Jaewoo-seonbae!”
As if pulled by a string, my head snaps in the direction of the voice. On the other side of the studio, a classmate approaches Jaewoo.
We’ve been avoiding each other all week, ever since he left my grandmother’s clinic without saying goodbye. There’s no excuse for why he left, and I’m not about to listen to any, even if he should pull me into a ceiling vent.
“You’ll get it eventually, I’m sure,” Nathaniel says. “Either that or fail.”
I glare at Nathaniel. All day he’s been snappy. What’s put him in a mood?
“Thanks for the boost of confidence.”
We spend the rest of the class working on the group project, devoting the last fifteen minutes to a section of the choreography where Nathaniel has to spin me around in a circle.
“Bae Jaewoo!”
I trip over my feet.
Nathaniel follows the direction of my gaze. “What do you keep looking at?”
“Nothing!” I attempt a change of subject, “You’re from New York.”
“This is true.”
“What’s it like?”
My grandparents on my dad’s side only recently moved to New Jersey to live closer to my aunt, and I haven’t yet had the chance to visit them.
I never really thought about New York other than it being the city where the Manhattan School of Music was located. But now that I’m in Seoul, where the city is so much a part of everyday life and culture, I’m curious what it’s like.
“Think of Seoul,” Nathaniel says. “Picture it in your head.” I close my eyes, seeing the city in my mind, the constant movement, the cars, taxis, buses, and motorbikes in the streets, the huge buildings with bright signs in Hangeul and English, the hundreds of restaurants, cafés, shops, markets, the museums and palaces. It’s like a symphony in my head.
“Are you picturing it?”
“Yes,” I breathe.
“Now picture a thick layer of dirt over it all. That’s New York.”
I scowl.
After class, I quickly pack my bag and leave, wanting to avoid both boys in XOXO. I don’t make it far.
“Jenny!” Nathaniel says, catching me in the stairwell. A few students cast us curious glances.
“What’s up with you?” he asks, pressing his shoulder to the wall. “You’ve been ignoring me all week.”
This conversation was bound to happen, and I owe Nathaniel an explanation.
“Yeah, I know.” I sigh. “I’m sorry. It’s just, you’re . . .” I gesture at him, a movement meant to encompass the entirety of his being. “An idol.”
“Yeah, I know,” he repeats. “We’ve established that.”
I lower my voice as a group of underclassmen pass us on the stairs, their eyes flitting from Nathaniel to me. “I just don’t want any rumors to start.”
“Who cares what people think?” he says.
“I care,” I hiss. “I don’t want you to get into trouble because of me.”
Nathaniel just stares at me, as if I’ve grown a second head. “What?” I say, now feeling self-conscious.
“Is this really coming from you?” His eyes narrow. “Jaewoo said something, didn’t he?” When I don’t immediately answer, he curses. “I knew it! God, he thinks he knows what’s best for everyone.”
“He’s just concerned for you,” I say, though I don’t know why I’m defending him. I’m just as annoyed with Jaewoo as him, if not more so.
An odd look appears in Nathaniel’s eyes. “Jaewoo should worry about himself.”
Like that doesn’t sound foreboding.
“You hungry?” Nathaniel asks abruptly, dropping the subject. “I’m starved. Let’s go get lunch.”
The storm that had been brewing all morning has finally arrived, and Nathaniel and I have to sprint across the quad to avoid getting soaked. We still end up having to wring water out of our uniforms before entering the cafeteria. Gi Taek and Angela are speaking with their program directors today—they’d told me about it when I’d met them after visiting Halmeoni on Sunday—so it’s just Nathaniel and me. The main dish on today’s lunch set is spicy stir-fried pork, one of my favorites. After claiming our trays, we head for our usual table, only to find it occupied.
“Let’s go to the student center,” I say. Because of the storm, the cafeteria is more crowded than usual.
“No, wait. I see two empty seats.” Nathaniel wades into the sea of students. I follow at a close distance, trying to keep my tray from knocking into anyone.
Reaching his destination, Nathaniel plops his tray onto the table next to . . .
Jaewoo.
Sori’s seated across from him.
“Sit down, Jenny,” Nathaniel says, either oblivious of the awkwardness or pointedly ignoring it, maybe even enjoying it. Most likely the latter. “I think it’s about time we all sit down for a chat.”
Sori makes to leave. “I should go.”
“Don’t run for my sake,” Nathaniel says.
She remains seated.
I feel as if I’ve stepped into a scene from a K-drama. The main characters are Jaewoo, the stalwart class president, and Sori, the chaebol daughter of a huge entertainment company, which I guess would make Nathaniel and I the disreputable American secondary characters, there to disturb the otherwise idyllic life of the leads.
“Jenny?” All three of them are looking at me expectantly.
“Oh, sorry.” I take the seat next to Sori.
“You two are roommates, aren’t you?” Nathaniel asks.
I glance at Sori but she doesn’t look like she’s going to answer, shuffling the food around on her plate with her chopsticks. “Yes,” I say.
“Well, that’s surprising.”
When he doesn’t elaborate, I sigh. “Why is that surprising?”
“Oh, that Sori’s parents allowed her to have a roommate, seeing as how they have complete control over her life.”
Damn, Nathaniel! I give him a wide-eyed look. Stop!
He gives me a shrug. What?
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Jaewoo watching us.
“I just mean,” Nathaniel acquiesces, flicking his gaze at Sori, “they’re so protective of you. As they should be. You’re their precious daughter.”
“What about you two?” I say, trying to take the heat off Sori. “You live together, right?”
Nathaniel switches his gaze from Sori to me. “Yeah, we live in a dorm down the street from Joah. But we’re moving soon to a bigger place. When we’re all settled, you should come over.”
I wave him off. “I’m sure you’d have to ask your other roommates.”
“Oh, Youngmin won’t mind. And Sun is hardly there. I don’t know about Jaewoo though.” He turns to his bandmate, all innocence. “How about it, Jaewoo? You want Jenny to come over?”
Something is definitely going on here. Nathaniel must know something about Jaewoo and me. But how? I doubt Jaewoo told him, not when he kept it from Youngmin.
“We’re not allowed to have girls at the dorm,” Jaewoo says coolly, though his eyes narrow a margin.
“Bae Jaewoo . . .” Nathaniel laughs without humor. “Always a rule-follower.”
Jaewoo grits his teeth. “I follow rules so that others don’t get hurt.”
“Even when it’s the rules that hurt the people you care about the most?”
Beside me, Sori’s stopped even pretending to eat; her hand that holds her chopsticks is trembling.
“Sori,” I say, “what you said before was a good idea. We should go.”
She ignores me. “Jaewoo’s right, Nathaniel. Rules are made for a reason, not just to protect our company, but also to protect our dreams, what we’ve been striving for our whole lives! You wouldn’t understand. You’re not like us.”
“Why? Because I entered the game late? Because I wasn’t brainwashed at a young age to believe that I had to give up everything for my family? Or is it because I’m Korean American? I just don’t get it because I’m different, because I have—I don’t know—a mind of my own?”
The cafeteria has gone silent. Everyone is watching, listening.
“Sori . . .” I tug at her sleeve. “Seriously, we should go.”
“And you,” she turns to me, and the venom in her voice actually makes me wince. “You think you’re so great, waltzing in here, making friends, showing them off to me. When you were the one who intruded into my life, nosing into my business, reading my mail. Are you even here for music? You can’t dance. I doubt you can sing. You don’t belong here. You’re nothing.”
My heart feels as if it’s dropped into my stomach. This is what she’s thought of me this whole time. I can hardly hear what’s going on around me, a ringing in my ears.
“You’re wrong, Sori-yah.”
Everything within me goes still. Sori, wide-eyed, lifts her head. I turn slowly.
“You shouldn’t say those things about Jenny,” Jaewoo continues. “She’s an incredible musician. She’s also a devoted daughter and granddaughter. And a loyal friend. You would know all of this about her, if you gave her a chance.”
I feel a wave of emotions sweep through me: shock, adrenaline, gratitude, and confusion. Why is he saying this now, after abandoning me the other day, after ignoring me all week?
How am I even supposed to react to this . . . defense of my character? We’re not even supposed to know each other.
Sori stands up abruptly, the chair clanging to the floor behind her. Tears are streaming down her face. Without another word, she rushes from the cafeteria.
I hurry to follow, leaving behind a stunned crowd.
