Less than twenty-four hours later, the second night of the showcase begins with WooWee gathering all fifty girls onstage as the online vote counts are revealed. WooWee says, with many dramatic pauses, that over thirty million votes were cast in South Korea alone, which incites yelps of surprise.

“Remember, all,” says WooWee in a hushed voice, “what matters for tonight is team totals.”

Everyone in the stadium is watching with bated breath as the results flash on the monitors.

FIRST PLACE

Team Two: Kim Aram (1,209,345), Candace Park (845,844), Kwon Binna (828,988), Helena Cho (623,112), Chae JinJoo (242,559)

Aram, Binna, and I shriek and jump and hug. Our team had the highest votes overall, making us the safest of the safe five teams. Team One is right behind us, with BowHee scoring 972,474 votes.

After Aram, RaLa, and BowHee, I have the fourth-highest overall votes, and Binna has fifth. If us five are the final group, I’d explode with happiness—our cafeteria table of misfits would be well represented! Maybe this is a sign that Korean fans are ready for a group without the typical, perfect idol types (other than Aram, of course).

“This is really going to happen for you, unnie,” I whisper to Binna. “Ten years.”

She’s crying so hard that she can only squeeze my hand back.

I feel awful that JinJoo scored so low—thirty-third place—but things haven’t been looking good for her for a while. And Helena in ninth place … well, I guess the Korean public could see through her fakery.

Umma, Imani, and Ethan are standing in the front row tonight, and they’re all going crazy, crying and cheering. My heart is about to burst.

WooWee calls everyone’s attention to some surprising results. Even though RaLa scored second overall individually—989,223 votes—the rest of her members did terribly, so they’re sixth overall. I look over, and RaLa is bawling her eyes out while her teammates comfort her.

They couldn’t possibly eliminate the second-biggest vote-getter based on a technicality, right?

WooWee says, “Team Two, Team One, Team Six, Team Three, and Team Nine … congratulations, you will be able to perform your second song tonight, and you’re still in the running for debut.”

Just like that, twenty-five dreams, probably a total of a hundred years of intense training, are wiped out.

I’m shook. I can’t help but wonder whether if RaLa fit K-pop idol standards a little bit better, S.A.Y. and CEO Sang would try to find a loophole to keep her. The eliminated girls, the surviving girls, and much of the audience are a blubbering mess.

One.J, his eyes sparking with compassion, says, “Just remember: Tonight’s results have nothing to do with your value as people. If becoming an idol is still your dream, never give up. But also remember, achieving your dream doesn’t automatically make your life better. No matter what you do, whether you work at a bakery or you’re number one on the Gaon Music Chart, our lives are all worth the same.”

There’s a murmur of awe from the crowd at his wise words.

“Well said, One.J,” says CEO Sang quickly. “To all the girls who are not moving on, you have suffered greatly, and S.A.Y. thanks you for it.”

We try to hug the eliminated girls, but they’re already being shooed backstage by the producers. I feel it palpably: A line has been drawn between losers and winners.

“And now for the top team: Team Two!” says WooWee.

The stadium erupts in cheers. Ugh, are we really about to be interviewed right now?

“How does it feel being so close to debut?” asks WooWee, putting the mic up to Binna’s face. But Binna’s too overwhelmed with emotion to answer. The crowd chants affectionately, “Ul-ji-ma! Ul-ji-ma!” Don’t cry! Don’t cry!

Helena steps forward and grabs the mic eagerly. “Well, it seems to me it’s such an honor for us to be one step closer, even though it seems to me we’re so sad for the girls who won’t be able to perform their second song.”

WooWee looks grateful that at least one girl is game to talk. “SLK and CEO Sang has said Team Two has stood out all through the trainee process,” she says. “What do you think it is that makes you guys stand out as a group?”

“Hmm,” says Helena, tapping her chin. “Well, each member brings such different qualities. Aram brings Visuals, of course. I’d say I’m the mother of the group, making sure everyone’s okay and taken care of.”

I want to cough and shout, “Lies!”

“Binna’s almost like the dad of the group,” Helena goes on. “She’s very forceful and keeps us all in line. And JinJoo, of course, is our unicorn, our 4D Personality. So yes, I’d say we all bring something unique to the group.”

“Oh! But it seems you forgot your maknae,” says WooWee.

Helena lets out a high, girlish laugh behind her hand. “Oh my goodness, how can I forget Candace! Yes, our maknae brings a certain … unpredictability to our group. Without her, we would almost have too much peace and harmony among us. What would be interesting about that?”

WooWee laughs a bit uncomfortably before saying, “Candace, let’s hear from you. As the maknae of the group, what have you learned from each of your unnies?”

I’m so over Helena right now. I’ve been trying to take the high road, but between the trainee massacre we just witnessed and Helena’s out-of-control shadiness, my nerves are shot.

“Well, WooWee-sunbaenim,” I say, smiling for the cameras, “from Binna-unnie, I’ve learned not just dance moves, but respect and integrity in the way she treats other people. She was the first person to help me when I was struggling as a new trainee, and for that, I will always be thankful. From JinJoo, I’ve learned the courage to not be afraid to be different, and to take criticism and setbacks with strength. And from Aram-unnie … from the outside, you may think that someone with so much beauty has had things easy, but beneath her loveliness, she possesses resilience and character, too.” Aram smiles at me and makes a heart with her arms.

“What beautiful words,” says WooWee. “And Helena?”

I think for a second. Helena flashes me a warning glare. “Helena-unnie … wow, where do I begin? From watching Helena-unnie I’ve learned how to present an attractive outward appearance to the right people. It seems it will be a very important skill in this industry, and she’s excellent at it.”

WooWee nods. “Wahhhh, what great insights from a girl so young.” I watch myself on the monitor as I flash Finger Hearts to the audience. The stadium roars their approval.

Finally, we’re ushered backstage to the dressing room to get ready for “Into the New World.” The eliminated groups are nowhere to be found; for all I know, they’ve already been bused away. There’s a somber vibe—Binna, Aram, and I are comforting JinJoo, who’s devastated by her low individual votes.

“JinJoo, don’t give up hope,” Aram says. “The final lineup won’t be based on votes, anyway. You can turn it around with this performance.”

The makeup and hair people rush us into spare seats by the mirror to get us touched up—a lot of us need it from crying. Helena, her face totally dry, is getting changed into her performance outfit, glaring at me the whole time.

I can’t stand the passive aggression anymore. “Do you have something to say to me, Helena?” I ask.

She snarls at me in English, “Candace, of all the shady things you’ve pulled, that was the shadiest.”

I look at her through the mirror as a makeup artist powders my face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Helena runs up and pushes the back of my chair, knocking into the makeup artist.

“Hey, step off!” I shout back in English. “Just leave me alone.”

“Oh, and just ignore the fact that you shaded me in front of everyone up there?” she snaps.

All the other girls in the crowded dressing room whip their heads in our direction. I’m mortified. I don’t say anything.

“You made me look terrible on national television!” Helena yells.

“You did that to yourself,” I fire back. “And as always, Helena, whatever I did to you, it’s because you deserved it.”

My makeup artist chooses that moment to put down her brush and peace out. I don’t blame her—I can’t imagine anything more inappropriate right now than the two American trainees screaming at each other in English. I get up and cross the dressing room into a different chair, where a different makeup artist gets to work on me right away. But Helena follows me like an evil shadow.

“Oh my God,” I burst out, switching back to Korean. “What’s wrong with you? Why are you so obsessed with me?”

“Obsessed with you?!” Helena smirks. “Trust and believe, I’m not obsessed with you. You’re not important enough.”

Aram calls out from across the room, “Come on, you guys, not now.”

“Yeah,” says Binna. “We’ve come so far.”

Helena ignores them. “I just want to know why you’ve had it out for me since the moment you showed up here.”

“Me?!” I can’t help but laugh a little. “I haven’t done anything to you.”

“Before you got here and started pulling your little tricks, everything was going great. Your stunt last night and that interview … that is the last time you disrespect me, do you hear me? I’m not gonna let you ruin my life.”

“I’ve done nothing to you,” I say through clenched teeth. “It’s not my fault you’re in ninth place.”

The entire room gasps. That was a low blow, but I’ve had it. I haven’t told everyone she destroyed my hair, or sicced her boyfriend on my precious guitar. I get up and pull my costume from the rack. We’re wearing soft, delicate rose gold for our second performance tonight.

“What did you say?!” says Helena.

I step into my dress. Just get through this and hopefully you’ll never have to see her again, I tell myself.

“I’m just saying,” I say, zipping up my dress, “if you’re not happy with how you’re doing, don’t blame me. I’m not a ‘threat,’ remember?”

“I’m not threatened by you, Candace. I’m just tired of how desperate you are to steal attention.”

“I’m desperate?! Do I need to remind you who your boyfriend is?”

Suddenly, I’m looking at the ceiling. My scalp feels like it’s about to be torn off my head. Helena has my ponytail in her fist. “LET GO OF ME!” I scream.

The room is in uproar. I’m trying to loosen her grip on my hair, while I’m being pulled by a pair of hands in the other direction. When I finally get my ponytail free, I windmill my arms wildly, making contact with nothing. I feel Helena’s nails rake across my cheek before she’s pulled away by Binna.

“STOP IT! STOP IT, BOTH OF YOU!” screams Manager Kong, who’s holding me back. She drags me across the room and into a chair. The other teams take this moment to flee to the viewing room. Helena’s in a chair in the opposite corner, bawling into her hands.

“I should cut both of you right now! Do you understand how inappropriate this is? What if an S.A.Y. executive saw this? Or a cameraman? You would be gone!”

A hair stylist shows up out of nowhere to fix my ponytail, and a different makeup artist immediately starts dabbing concealer over the claw marks on my face, which stings like crazy. I’m humiliated and furious. That wild animal actually fought me. JinJoo, Binna, and Aram are all dressed and ready in their lovely rose-gold outfits, horrified.

“You still need to go out there and perform,” says Manager Kong. “But after, you better give me a good reason not to tell the CEO about this. Because if I tell him, he won’t care how well you sing or dance. The biggest cause of idol group disbandment isn’t scandals—it’s members who can’t get along.”

With that threat, suddenly Helena’s face is totally dry, and she’s helping her makeup artist reapply her foundation faster. You almost have to admire the girl.

The stadium is pitch-dark except for a single spotlight on Binna. We hear a high-pitched buzz in our in-ears, which is Binna’s signal to start singing. Her voice on the first line sounds a little shaky, unsure.

Guilt sweeps over me; I can’t believe I subjected my team to that spectacle right before the most important performance of our lives. I have the second line: I close my eyes and put all the emotions I’m feeling—desperation, regret, remorse, love—into the words. The words echo throughout the stadium into nothingness. You can hear a pin drop.

In the chorus, when all five of our voices come together for the harmony, the cheers swell like a wave. The ocean of pink glow sticks undulates peacefully. To sing without instruments, just our teammates’ voices, I forget where I am, and I feel as if I’m connected to them telepathically. When it comes time for Helena and me make eye contact, I swear she tells me with her eyes, “I’m sorry.” And I say back, “I’m sorry, too.”

Before she even gets to it, I know for certain that Binna’s going to rock that high note better than she ever has. There’s just an overwhelming force lifting this performance up—I know the others can feel it, too, as if we’re being cradled in the palms of the fans’ hands. And just like that, Binna closes her eyes and lets the high note rip. The cheers are so loud we have to wait a full minute to start again.

The song ends, and the five of us are holding hands, in full certainty that we made K-pop history together.