Three

Umma’s words are ringing in my ears as I walk to the bus stop. If things don’t work out… I just don’t want you to feel surprised. Of course I’ve always known that being a K-pop star is not a guarantee, but I’ve wanted this dream for so long, I’m not sure I even know what the alternative looks like.

It all started when I was six years old. There was one other Asian girl in my class, Eugenia Li. Even though she was Chinese, everyone was always asking us if we were cousins or twin sisters. I didn’t think much of it until one day when I got stung by a bee during recess. I was sitting in the nurse’s office, waiting for Umma to come and take me home, when Mrs. Li walked through the door. The nurse didn’t realize she had done anything wrong and instead was all smiles as she told me that my mom was there to get me. For the first time, I realized the world didn’t see me the way I saw me, or the way my family saw me. All they saw was my face; the shape of my eyes and my nose; my thick, straight black hair—and it made me interchangeable with girls like Eugenia, even though we looked nothing alike. When my mom finally picked me up at school, I couldn’t stop crying. The bee sting was still burning on my skin, but when Umma asked me what was wrong, all I could think about was Mrs. Li. “I wish I wasn’t Korean,” I remember sobbing into her shirt. So she scooped me up and carried me home, and when we got there, she tucked me into bed and grabbed her laptop. That was the first time I saw a K-pop music video. We watched them for hours, and I marveled at the singers—all so unique and beautiful and talented.

I was hooked. I watched K-pop music videos constantly, memorizing the lyrics to my favorite ones and putting on little shows for Leah on the weekends. The music made me feel proud to be Korean.

I wish I could say that time with Mrs. Li and the school nurse was the only time I ever felt rejected by the world, but it wasn’t. There were the kids who made fun of the kimchi Umma packed me for lunch; the woman who once came up to me in our corner bodega, screaming at me that I should “go home” (even though I lived around the block, I got the feeling that wasn’t what she meant); there was the time I dressed like Hermione Granger for Halloween and everyone insisted that I was Cho Chang. Through it all, there was K-pop. It made me feel understood, like there was a place in the world where I belonged, where people would see me for me.

I’m thinking about all this as I walk to the bus stop. The spring Seoul air is breezy and crisp, sidewalks littered with so many fallen cherry blossoms that they stick to the bottom of your shoes, turning the whole city into a haze of pearly pink petals. I walk to the corner, popping into the GS25 for a Pocari Sweat, and then hop on the bus to the trainee house, a few blocks down from DB headquarters. The seats are filled with young couples in matching sweatshirts sharing earbuds, businessmen and -women watching old episodes of Running Man on their phones as they head home from work, and halmonis clutching canvas granny carts stuffed to the brim with groceries and empty bottles. I plop down on a seat and tip the last of my drink into my mouth as the breeze from the open window whips back my braids. The old lady next to me pokes me in the side, gesturing to my empty can. “Dah mashussuh?”

“Neh, Halmoni,” I say, handing it over.

“Komawoh,” she replies, pinching my cheek. “Ahh ipuda!”

I bow my head. “Kamsahamnida.”

The bus careens down the street, barely skidding to a stop when people want to get on or off. In New York, I was never allowed on public transportation by myself, so getting used to it when we moved was a big learning curve. Luckily, just like the rest of Seoul, the buses and subway system are fast, super clean, and easy to use. But the best part of life in this city? There is free Wi-Fi literally everywhere you go.

I pull out my phone and send a quick text to Hyeri: If my mom asks, I was at your house tonight.

She immediately texts back: Sure. Juhyun says “Don’t have too much fun without us tonight!”

I laugh but shove my phone back in my pocket without replying. The less they know, the less likely it is that they’ll slip up if interrogated. I’m so buzzed from the adrenaline of lying to Umma and going to the trainee house that I get off one stop early and walk the rest of the way. I need to get some of this energy out before I face Mina and the others.

I’m about half a block away when I realize I still need to change out of my pajamas.

I duck behind a particularly large bush lining the sidewalk and unbutton my pajama top, stuffing it into my tote. I’m watching the street, making sure that no one is approaching as I wiggle out of my pajama pants. They catch on my ankles and my fingers fumble, but I can’t stop myself in time. I trip over the pajama’s pretzel twist around my legs, spinning and falling face-first in the dirt.

I groan, sitting up slowly and brushing the dirt off my sweater. Thank god no one saw that.

“Wow… that looked like it hurt.”

Everything in my body freezes. I turn my head and see two brand-new white-and-black Nike sneakers standing on the sidewalk. My gaze drifts upward, taking in a pair of perfectly tailored Ader Error track pants and a Burberry sweater that I’m sure cost more than my entire wardrobe, all worn by a boy with silvery highlights in his hair, sparkling brown eyes, and cheekbones that could probably cut glass.

Not just a boy. The boy. Jason Lee.

Holy shit.

“You okay?” he asks, a concerned smile on his face. “Here, let me help you.” He holds out his hand.

“You’re… Jason… Lee,” I stammer as I struggle to my feet. Even before shooting to stardom with DB, Jason was famous for his YouTube K-pop covers. After one of his videos went viral, Mr. Noh himself flew to Toronto and convinced Jason to move to Seoul, where he quickly became Korea’s most beloved pop star. Being half-white, half-Korean actually works for him here, with everyone from preteens to stalker fans to ahjummas praising him for his big, double-lidded eyes and olive complexion, as if he handpicked his genes himself. Somehow his foreigner status gets him voted “Korea’s Sexiest K-pop Star,” while mine gets me mandatory Korean culture lessons.

“Oh, so you’ve heard of me?” He arches an eyebrow, his smile widening. He’s definitely got the smile-like-the-world-is-your-friend thing down—for him, the world probably is. “What kind of things have you heard?”

“Well, my sister Leah told me about your musical therapy chari—”

“Voice of an angel? Smile of the devil? Body of a god?”

“Uh… what?”

“You know, most girls faint when they see me. But I guess you did fall, so that’s something,” he says, almost to himself. “So, tell me, what are they saying these days?” He beams down at me, his mouth open in a ridiculously cute smile.

“Mainly that you steal vinyl records from Mr. Noh’s office,” I say, slightly rattled by his obvious arrogance. So much for the sweet, humble star boy who starts charities and loves his fans. “And that you have a secret werewolf lover that you only see during the full moon.”

“Whaaaat? That’s wild! Who said that? How dare they!” He looks wounded, flashing me his signature puppy-dog eyes before a sly grin spreads across his face. “I’d never steal from Mr. Noh.”

I roll my eyes. This is the K-pop star the world is so in love with? “Of course not. God forbid you do anything to mess up your perfect reputation. But rumors about your magical, shape-shifting girlfriend you’re fine with?”

“A gentleman never kisses and tells,” he replies smoothly. “Besides, you know what they say: the more people are talking about you, the more you’re worth talking about.”

“Maybe that’s how it works in your world,” I retort. Of course the infallible Jason Lee wouldn’t need to take the no-dating rule at DB seriously.

Jason pauses, looking down at me. “I feel like you’re mad at me.”

“Nope. Not mad—just trying to get to the trainee house before practice is over,” I say, pulling at the ends of my sweater and hoping I didn’t just give Jason a glimpse of my underwear.

Jason’s eyes light up. “The trainee house! Why didn’t you say so? I’m on my way there too. I’ll walk you.”

“No, thanks,” I reply, but he ignores me.

“So why don’t I know your name?” he asks, cocking his head to the side. “Any DB trainee brave enough to wear Snoopy pants in public is worth talking about.”

My cheeks redden with embarrassment again, but I force my voice to stay composed. “I’ll have you know these are my favorite pajamas. Sorry we can’t all be beautiful werewolves,” I say, rolling my eyes.

“I disagree,” Jason says.

“What are you talki—”

“You’re obviously beautiful,” he continues.

My body freezes. Uh… what?

“And I’m pretty sure you could bite my head off if you wanted to. Plus, it is a full moon tonight if you hadn’t noticed.”

Ohmygod. I need to get out of here. I reach down and start unwinding my tangled pajama pants, shooting a death glare at Jason.

“I don’t need an audience,” I snap.

He has the decency to blush but makes a big show of turning slowly around so his back is to me. “Better?”

Seething, I go to yank off my pants in one final move, but I’m so flustered that the waistband gets caught around my ankle again. I trip forward, falling face-first into Jason’s back. Instinctively, I wrap my hands around his waist to steady myself, my cheek buried between his shoulder blades. Without realizing what I’m doing, I inhale deeply. He smells like maple and mint.

“Rather forward of you,” Jason says. I can’t see his face, but I can hear the smirk in his voice. He turns his head, looking at me over his shoulder. “Or should I say backward? Enjoying the view?”

Kill. Me. Now. I step back, my face burning as I finally free myself from these traitorous pajama pants and shove them deep in my bag. I’m torching these things as soon as I get home.

“Thanks,” I say, tossing a stiff nod in his direction and running toward the house, leaving him laughing on the sidewalk.

“You’re welcome, Werewolf Girl!” he calls after me. Great. Another nickname. Just what I need.

I’m cursing myself, Jason, and the entire Charlie Brown gang as I fling open the front door of the trainee house.

Holy crap.

The place is packed with DB trainees and stars, every square inch covered in empty soju bottles and soda cans, with music practically pounding off the walls and a brand-new Samsung Frame playing all the latest K-pop music videos.

And then it hits me. Jason was headed here too—to the trainee house. This isn’t a training session.

It’s a party.

A group of guys turn toward me and wave, yelling out their greetings. I recognize them, but I’m in too much shock to think clearly. I wave back slowly.

“Yo, Jason!” one of them calls over my shoulder.

I immediately drop my hand as Jason enters behind me. His friend walks over, and they do that bro hug thing where they clasp opposite hands and clap each other on the back. I really need to get out of here.

“Who’s your pretty date?” Jason’s friend asks, looking me up and down. Then I realize. This isn’t just Jason’s friend. This is Minjun—lead dancer of NEXT BOYZ and global K-pop superstar.

“This is…” Jason pauses, glancing at me.

“Rachel,” I say. At least my voice is still working normally. I haven’t completely shut down from shock. “I’m a senior trainee at DB.”

“American,” he observes, his eyes twinkling. I almost step back, bracing myself for an oncoming insult. “Welcome, Rachel. I’m Minjun,” he says, like my sister doesn’t keep a poster of his face taped up above her bed and kiss it every night. “Grab a drink.”

I blink in confusion, looking over my shoulder at the front door. Every instinct in my body is telling me to leave. This isn’t what I was prepared for tonight.

Jason puts his hand on the back of my elbow, his eyes twinkling. “Yeah, Rachel, come join us.” He raises a mischievous eyebrow. “Unless, of course, you have a pajama party to get to.”

I scowl. Then I straighten up, tossing my braids behind my shoulder. I made it all the way here. I have to at least show my face. If anything, I can’t leave without getting Leah her autograph. “I’d love a drink.”

The party is already well underway, and I trip over more than a few empty beer cans as I march toward what looks like the bar area, which borders a spacious sunken living room where people are dropping shots of grapefruit soju into beer glasses and downing the whole drink. Someone offers me one and I take it, sipping lightly around the edges of the glass. I’m not exactly a fan of anything that causes people to lose control and embarrass themselves. I’m good enough at that already, apparently.

“Rachel!” a voice calls from across the room. I tense up. I’d recognize that sickly sweet voice anywhere. Mina appears, looking flawless and party-ready with blown-out hair and sky-high glittery stack heels. She adjusts her miniskirt and crop top while Eunji and Lizzie stand behind her, both decked out in perfectly fitting skinny jeans and tiaras. “So happy you could make it to our training session.” She glances at the other two girls, who quickly cover their mouths with their hands to hide their laughter.

“Me too,” I chirp back, refusing to back down. “Thanks so much for inviting me.”

“Cute outfit, Rachel,” Eunji says, folding a piece of gum into her mouth as her eyes flick over my clothes. “Did you borrow it from your little sister?”

“I love the hair,” Lizzie adds. She reaches over and flicks one of my braids off my shoulder. “What a throwback to elementary school.”

“You look uncomfortable, Rachel,” Mina says, her face pinching in mock concern. “You don’t feel out of place without Mr. Noh here to take care of you, do you? Surely even Princess Rachel must know how to have fun at a party?”

Mina takes a sip from her cup and eyes me coolly. I want to snap back, calling her out for being a dirty liar and telling her exactly where she can put her “late-night training session,” but my momentary bravery has run out. Instead, I take another sip from my soju beer mix, wincing at the sour taste, my fist tight around the glass.

All of a sudden Jason pops up behind me, glancing from me to Mina to the other girls with a small smirk on his lips.

“Jason!” Mina coos. “I didn’t know you were here! Have you come to find me?” she asks, sipping casually on her drink.

“Actually, I was looking for Rachel,” Jason answers.

“Wh-wh-aat?” Mina sputters. “But… how do you know Rachel?” I swear to god, if he brings up the pajamas right now, I will kill him with my bare hands.

Jason smiles at me. “Oh, we go way back. Me and Rachel and Woodstock.” Mina opens her mouth to respond, but right then Jason puts his hands on my shoulders, turning me abruptly and guiding us deeper into the party.

“I’ll have you know, it was Snoopy on my pants, not Woodstock. Woodstock is the dopey little bird. Snoopy is the loyal dog–slash–airplane pilot,” I say, laughing as we plop down on a couch in the corner of the room.

Jason nods in mock seriousness, draping his arm over my shoulder and pulling me close. “You’re right. Clearly Snoopy is the superior choice in sleepwear. Forgive me? I was just trying to make a quick exit.”

I shoot him a look. “What do you mean?”

“Well, we were surrounded by three girls who were all staring at you like they wanted to rip your face off,” he says, his breath warm against my skin. “Relocation seemed like a good idea.”

The soju is warming its way through my body, and I smile. “Well, you know what they say.”

“What do they say, Werewolf Girl?”

“The more people stare at you, the more you must be worth staring at.” I giggle, and a tiny burp escapes my mouth. My eyes go wide, and I clap a hand over my mouth as Jason looks on, utterly delighted. He pulls me closer to him on the couch, so that my legs are practically on top of his. My mind is whirring—Is this really happening? I definitely should not be flirting with Jason right now. That’s basically asking to end up like Suzy Choi. Not that she had a boyfriend. Not that Jason is my boyfriend. Oh my god, what am I thinking? There’s no way I’m asking him for an autograph for Leah now.… I close my eyes, trying to press pause on the soju-induced monologue running through my head.

Minjun flops down dramatically on the couch next to me, his copper-colored hair sweeping over his eyes. “I’m bored.” He pouts. “And hungry.”

Jason rolls his eyes at his friend, shifting so that his arms are no longer around me. A shiver courses through my body involuntarily, and I hike the sleeves of my sweater top up over my shoulders to stay warm. “Why don’t you go see what the chefs left in the kitchen for dinner?” he says diplomatically.

“The only thing to eat in that kitchen is kale and spinach smoothies. You remember how they starved us in our trainee days!” Minjun sniffed the air. “Do you guys smell chicken?”

I gulp, remembering the Tupperware Umma packed before I left the house. I reach gingerly into my bag. “Um, do you mean this chicken?” I say, embarrassed.

“Ah-ssa!” Minjun shouts, ripping the box out of my hands and opening it. “Two Two Fried Chicken! My favorite! Jason, this girl is really okay.”

Jason laughs and Minjun starts inhaling my leftovers, two pieces at a time.

Across the room, I can feel as Mina watches the three of us, her narrowed eyes flashing. Her phone beeps, and she pulls it out of her bag, scowling at something on the screen. She shows it to Lizzie and Eunji, and they both grimace, frowning down at her. Then she stuffs the phone back into her bag and jumps up, rearranging her face into a perfect smile. She claps her hands lightly, bouncing up and down. “Attention, party people! The time has come for girl bonding, trainees only!” she exclaims. “You know what that means.… All you non-trainees, out! That goes double for the boys! Even you, Jason—if you can manage to tear yourself away from Princess Rachel.” She smirks at us.

Minjun wipes his greasy chicken fingers on his jeans before grabbing Jason’s hands, pulling him up. “Come on, Jay-Star, let’s go hit that new club in Itaewon.”

Jason bends down and murmurs “Good luck” into my ear, sending shivers along my spine again. He jumps over the back of the couch and joins his friends, singing the chorus from “Fake Crush” as they disappear into the street.

Oh shit. Leah’s autograph. I jump up, intent on running after him, but between the soju and unexpectedly spending my night flirting with Jason, my head is spinning and I flop back down on the couch at the same moment that Mina sits next to me, holding two glasses filled with champagne. Around us, all the other girls are pouring themselves glasses too, squealing as the champagne fizzes over the rim and drips onto their hands.

“A toast,” Mina says, handing me a glass. When I don’t take it right away, she sighs, rolling her eyes. “Come on, Rachel. Loosen up, will you? We’re all just trying to have a little fun together.”

Fun. I have to admit, even though this night is nothing like what I thought it would be, I am having fun. I purse my lips and set down my beer to take the champagne glass.

Mina grins and raises her drink, turning to the other girls. “To our family! And to becoming the next biggest, brightest stars in Korea!”

The girls cheer, linking arms and clinking glasses before downing their champagne in one gulp. I drink a little slower, the liquid burning my throat way more than I expected. I nearly cough it up, but I don’t want to give Mina the satisfaction of seeing me choke. I tip the glass up, forcing myself to drink the whole thing.

I sink into the couch as the girls around me chatter away, pouring themselves more and more champagne. I look around the house, wishing Akari were here with me so I would have someone to talk to. I grab my phone to text her, but my fingers feel thick and uncoordinated and I fumble with the straps on my bag until I give up. I’ll talk to her tomorrow. My hand is cold from the champagne glass, and I press it into my face, relishing the chill. I drank too much. No, I drank too fast. Everything is spinning. Eunji’s loud voice is ringing in my ears, and the music is starting to sound like it’s playing in slow motion. I look at Mina, who’s still sitting next to me… and there are two of her. I’m seeing double. I try to blink away the nightmare.

I fall deeper into the couch, my head growing fuzzier with each second. I see Mina’s blurry faces leaning in close to mine. “It worked! She’ll never be chosen now.” Chosen? What is she talking about? “Earth to Rachel! You look like you could use some fresh air, Princess.” Her voice swirls slowly around me, but I can’t find the energy to respond.

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.