Jason’s face softens. He reaches across the table and grabs my hands. “Hey, don’t talk like that. Whatever happened with Kang Jina and her boyfriend, it’s different between us. We’ll tell Mr. Noh that we really care about each other and he’ll understand. In fact, he’ll probably be happy for us.”

“Happy for us?” I snap, pulling my hands away from his. “Open your eyes, Jason. They might bend the rules for you and Song Gyumin, but not for me. One more misstep and I’m out of DB. Kang Jina was one of their biggest stars and they didn’t just kick her out—they ruined her. And they didn’t look back. Imagine how dispensable I am as a trainee!”

“Please, Rachel, you know they’re not like that,” Jason pleads. “They would never do that to you just because you’re dating me.”

I stare at him and I realize that nothing I say is going to make him understand that things are different for me than they are for him. Jason might be the “Angel Boy” of DB, but I’ve had to fight every step of the way, and I still feel like I’m barely hanging on. DB would have no problem cutting me the moment they find a blemish that could tarnish their squeaky-clean, picture-perfect reputation. And a relationship with Jason would be an irreversible blemish.

“It’s over, Jason,” I say, standing up from the table. “I can’t do this anymore. I’ve worked too hard for my dreams to let anything stand in my way. Even you.”

Jason stares at me, completely in shock. “I can’t believe how badly you’re overreacting.”

My heart splinters at his words. Whatever I was hoping he would say, that wasn’t it. I walk out of the pojangmacha without looking back. I can hear Jason calling after me, but I don’t care. Once I’m outside, I break into a run. I don’t stop until I’m on the subway, out of breath and brokenhearted.

I swallow the lump in my throat, refusing to cry. I did the right thing.

I think of Yujin and how she put her career on the line to help me make a viral video, how she supports me even when it gets her into trouble. I think of my family. I feel ashamed of how I almost let them all down again. How I almost threw away everything I’ve been working toward for the last six years.

I was so swept away by my emotions, but no more. There’s only a few weeks left before DB will announce the Family Tour, and I need to get back on track. From now on I’ll be more focused than ever.

Just me, regular trainee life, and completely avoiding Jason Lee.

Eighteen

My plan for avoiding Jason was simple: Turn the other way when I see him walking down the hall, don’t make eye contact during training, and most importantly, imagine his face on the punching bag at Appa’s gym.

And it worked. Five days later, I’ve clocked more hours at the boxing gym than I have in the last six months. “Oof!” Appa groans as I land a hard punch, the bag digging into his stomach. “Careful—your old man isn’t what he used to be.”

“Sorry, Appa,” I say, taking a minute to wipe the sweat off my face but quickly getting back into my punching stance.

“How about we take a break? I’m worried you’re going to crack a rib.”

“My ribs feel fine,” I say.

“I didn’t mean one of yours.” Appa grins and pats the floor beside him as he sinks down, groaning with exhaustion. “So,” he says as I sit down next to him. “Anything on your mind?”

I sigh. There’s plenty on my mind but nothing I want to talk about. With anyone. “No, Appa. Everything is fine.”

Appa narrows his eyes, taking in my tired face and the forced smile on my lips. After a moment, though, he seems to accept my answer. “Okay. If you say so.”

“I do. Now… why don’t you tell me what’s going on with you?”

“Actually, I do have something to tell you.” Appa reaches into the pocket of his hoodie and pulls out a crumpled white piece of card stock, handing it to me with a shy grin. Curious, I take it, slowly unfolding the paper. As I read, my eyes light up.

“Appa! This is an invitation to your law school graduation! It’s next week!”

“It is. And I’d like for you to be there.”

I nod, tears forming in the corners of my eyes as Appa reaches out his hands and pulls me into his chest. “We’re going to be okay, Rachel. Everything is going to be okay.” And for a moment, I let myself believe him.

* * *

A week later I’m smiling as Appa walks across the stage at his graduation, beaming as he accepts his law school diploma. He waves at me and I wave back—but, unfortunately for me, he can’t see me. All he can see is the camera that’s streaming video of the ceremony, which I’m able to watch due to in-flight Wi-Fi. Because—surprise!—the day after Appa invited me to his graduation, DB announced they were sending us on a last-minute promotional tour for “Summer Heat” in Toronto.

That’s right. Me, Jason, and Mina. Together. For five straight days.

The thought of spending that much time with Jason made my heart drop into my stomach, but there was no way to say no to DB and still expect them to debut me.

So here I am.

Mina insisted on flying over on her dad’s corporate jet, and it’s even more luxurious than the one Leah and I flew in to Tokyo. We’re all sitting on full-length velvet sofas, and everyone has their own pair of thickly padded monogrammed slippers, along with silk eye masks and wireless headphones.

Mina is in the yoga studio at the back of the plane, having a lesson with her personal instructor, while Mr. Han, who’s accompanying us on our trip, is sitting at the wine bar, a glass of merlot in his hand and his headphones clamped tight over his ears, tapping away on his iPad. I’m hunkered down in my seat, a stack of extra-credit homework piled on the table in front of me (that, plus the fact that we’re on a two-week summer break from school at the moment, is the only way Umma agreed to let me go on this trip). Normally, I’d breeze through my English assignment, but this one is turning out to be a bit more of a challenge—

“You really couldn’t leave the Shakespeare at home?” Jason says, plopping down on the sofa next to me, spooning up a huge mouthful of chocolate soufflé. Jason clearly didn’t adopt the same “avoid at all costs” plan that I did after our disastrous night at the pojangmacha. If anything, it’s like he’s gone out of his way to always be around—unfortunately, the sweet, sensitive, boom-box-holding, promposing guy I dated is gone and I’m stuck with the cocky, snarky guy I met outside the trainee house a couple months ago.

I ignore him, turning my eyes back to Macbeth’s big soliloquy.

“I suppose you do have a thing for dramatic storytelling,” he says. “Though I’ve always found his plays to be a bit of a drag. Do you even understand what they’re saying? Or do you just pretend to understand and look everything up on SparkNotes later?”

“Can you please just let me focus?” I snap, losing my cool.

He takes his time licking the chocolate from his spoon before dropping it in his empty bowl with a loud clatter. “Oh, sorry.” He lifts his eyebrows in mock surprise. “Were you trying to concentrate?”