Eleven

Side step, hip pop, slide, and… No. Hip pop, slide, and side step right… or was it left?

I blow a strand of hair out of my face and glare at myself in the training room mirror. This is one of the easiest steps in the whole dance routine, so why am I having such a hard time with it?

The room is open to everybody for a block of free practice time every Friday afternoon. Usually I’m at school too late to make use of it, but the twins’ driver offered to drop me off on his way to taking Juhyun and Hyeri shopping in Gangnam. It’s crowded with trainees, including Mina, who’s hanging out in the back, gossiping with Eunji and Lizzie. I hear Mina’s loud laugh and look over my shoulder, catching her eye, but I quickly look away. I don’t want to interact with anyone today. I just want to nail this move.

I take it again from the beginning. I study my reflection in the mirror, but all I can see is Jaehyun, our lead dance trainer, scowling at me.

“All wrong,” he shrieked at me at our last practice. “How can you mess up such an easy move? I don’t understand what Yujin sees in you. Again!”

I kept my face stoic, refusing to let his voice be added to the symphony of harsh critiques that were playing on a loop in my head, instead starting again with as much energy as I could muster. He cut the music almost immediately.

“Nope. Wrong already. I can see you overthinking it before you’ve even taken a step. Start again.”

I took a deep breath, trying not to grit my teeth. But Jaehyun noticed the frustration on my face.

“Look, if this is too hard for you, go home,” he said, cutting the music again and storming over to me. “You think giving me attitude will make you a better dancer? Get your head out of your ass and try harder. If you can’t even get these dance steps, you’ll never get anywhere.”

I still can’t get his voice out of my head. It’s like some horrible carousel spinning around and around in my head—the more I fixate on it, the more I mess up, and the more I mess up, the more I keep fixating on it. I collapse on the floor, seething at my sweaty reflection. I see Mina watching me, but for some reason her expression isn’t as scornful as it usually is. She looks more annoyed and maybe a little bit… pitying?

I cover my face with my hands. I must look truly pathetic if even Mina feels sorry for me. It almost looks like she’s about to walk over when the door to the practice room swings open.

The trainees all stare as Mr. Han walks in, and they immediately start whispering among themselves.

“What’s an exec doing in a training room during open practice?”

“I bet Mr. Noh sent him to do his dirty work.”

“Do you think he’s here to kick someone out?”

“Sumin is looking kind of sloppy these days.…”

Lizzie straightens up, twirling a strand of hair around her finger and batting her big double-lidded eyes in his direction. I can’t blame her. Compared to the rest of the execs, Mr. Han is like a Korean Chris Hemsworth. It would be hard to imagine him sitting around with a bunch of wrinkly old men in power suits if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes.

He strides across the room—oblivious to the fact that half the room is talking about him and the other half is staring at him longingly—and stops right in front of me. I stiffen. Wait—am I the one he’s here for? The whispers stop as everyone watches us, not even bothering to pretend like they’re not eavesdropping.

“Hello, Rachel,” Mr. Han says cheerfully. He leans forward and lowers his voice. “You have a call from your mother in the main office.”

I balk. “Is everything okay?”

“Oh yes, everything is fine. It sounds like she just wants to check in on you and ask when you’ll be home for dinner.”

The room erupts into quiet giggles.

I don’t know which feeling is stronger at the moment: my need to leave the training room and never come back or my need to go to the main office and destroy their phone. Trainees aren’t allowed to have our phones on us while we’re on DB campus, so our parents call the office if they need to get ahold of us.

Not that anyone’s parents ever do. That’s like announcing to all of DB that your parents still treat you like a child. It’s bad enough I live at home and go to school when most of the other trainees my age live at the trainee house and train full-time. This is just what Mina and her minions need to torture me for weeks on end.

I slink after Mr. Han, trying not to look at anyone in the face. As I walk past, I hear Eunji whisper, “Come on, guys, it’s sweet. Her mom probably just wants to make sure she went potty today.” My face burns.

Mr. Han pauses for a brief moment by the door to smile at Mina, who smiles back quickly. Lizzie raises her eyebrows at her, and Mina waves a hand. “He’s a friend of my father’s. We had him over for dinner last week,” Mina says as we walk out the door.

“Um, thank you for coming to get me, Mr. Han,” I say, following him down the hall. “I hope I didn’t interrupt any important business.”

“Not at all, Rachel,” Mr. Han says. “I just happened to be in the office when your mother called, and I thought I’d pay you a visit. Don’t worry. I understand,” he adds, giving a nod toward the training room. “I have a nervous mother as well. She likes to call me five times a day. I keep telling her to text, but she complains the letters on her phone are too small. In fact,” he says, hitching up his suit sleeve and glancing at his watch, “I think I’m overdue for a call.” He smiles at me and I smile back, taking in the watch on his wrist—it looks vintage, the leather on the strap worn but smooth and the square gold face gleaming with just the right amount of patina.

“I love your watch, Mr. Han,” I say.

He looks down at it and smiles. “Thanks. It was my grandfather’s. He passed it down to me when I took over his position on the DB board of executives.” He rotates his wrist toward me. “See the red rubies circling the outside of the watch face?” I nod. “He had those put in special to represent our family legacy.… ‘There’s no other family like the Hans,’ he used to say. But I’ll tell you a secret.” He gestures to me, and I lean in closer. “I think he’s just a huge soccer fan.” He throws his head back laughing and I giggle along. I could get used to having an exec like Mr. Han around.

“So how are you feeling about the dress rehearsal on Sunday?” he asks as we continue walking. He raises his eyebrows meaningfully. “All the trainees, trainers, and execs will be there to see the progress you three have been making. Are you ready?”

I flash back to Jaehyun’s scowling face. “Not exactly,” I admit. At this rate, I honestly wonder if I’ll ever be ready. A terrified shiver runs through my body.

“Keep practicing,” he says encouragingly. “You’ll get it.”

I smile weakly. I really hope he’s right about that.

* * *

The next morning, I brace myself for dance practice with Mina. I’m not too keen to see Jaehyun again, but I’ll have to face him sooner or later if I ever want to nail these steps.

I linger at the door before practice starts, not wanting to actually step inside, but when I peek my head in, it’s totally empty except for Mina, who’s doing stretches by the mirror. She turns around when she sees me, putting her hands on her hips.