Page 2 of I'll Be the One

The strawberry-blond girl turns around and stares at me.

I unflinchingly meet her gaze. That usually does the trick when people rudely stare.

But instead of looking away, she cocks her head to the side, smacking her violet-colored bubble gum between her blue-painted lips. She doesn’t look appalled like the lady had, just... curious.

“Hi,” I say with a pointed eyebrow raise. “I’m Skye. Can I help you?”

Without missing a beat, the girl gives me a bright smile and extends a perfectly manicured hand in my direction.

“Hi,” she says. “I’m Lana. What are you auditioning to do: sing or dance?”

Her voice is bright and clear, almost bell-like in a way that human voices shouldn’t sound. It reminds me of all those announcers on the Korean news programs that my parents regularly watch. If it weren’t for her Valley girl accent, I’d think she was from Seoul.

“Both,” I say.

“Ooh, a double talent.” Her shiny blue lips widen into a grin. “How interesting. Is that what the third line is for?”

I nod. “How about you?” I already know the answer, but I ask anyway, just to be polite.

“I’m mainly vocals,” she says. “Icandance... just not well enough that I’d want to compete with dancers likeher.”

She gestures at the girl she entered the building with. The other girl shoots a wary look at me before she grins and waves at Lana. If Lana notices the look, she doesn’t say anything as she waves back.

“I’m the other way around,” I say. “I’ve been dancing all mylife, so I’m honestly better at that. But I sing, too. I’ve been in choir since I was in elementary school.”

“Ooh, nice!” She looks genuinely impressed.

Slowly, I let my guard down and give her a small smile. I’m relieved that this conversation is going better than I expected. I hate to admit it, but some part of me was waiting for her to make a comment about my weight like people often do. It’s usually only a matter of time before someone like my mom asks, “How is it that you don’t lose any weight even though you’re so active?” or “Shouldn’t you quit dance and focus on singing? You can’t honestly expect to be a dancer with your body type.”

Okay, so it’s mostly Mom. But as long as I can remember, there’ve been at least a handful of people per year who ask me similar things. When I was younger, I tried my best to answer these questions, telling people about how everyone was big on Dad’s side and how genetics determine body shape more than anything. I told them how my doctor said I was healthy. But no matter what I said, people didn’t believe me. Then, I stopped trying to explain myself. It simply wasn’t worth my time and energy. And honestly? It shouldn’t matter why I’m a certain weight. Being fat doesn’t make me any less of a person.

Lana and I watch the TV as some guy gets totally wrecked by the judges for singing off-key. I feel really sorry for him, because it’s clear that they only let him through preliminaries so he could be a laughingstock on camera. I’m still thinkingabout how badly that must suck when I notice that Lana’s not looking up at the TV anymore.

Instead, she’s staring atme.

“Okay, so,” she says. “Sorry if this is, like, totally rude, but...”

I hold my breath.Don’t ask me about my weight. Please don’t ask about my weight.Things were going so well between us, and I really don’t want them to go south now. I brace myself, expecting the worst.

But then she asks, “Isn’t auditioning for both things kind of a big risk? I heard that for people who audition for both, the judges won’t let you move on to the next round if you’re not good at either one of the things. Or they might make you choose one or the other on the spot. No offense, but I could never do that. Too scary.”

“Well,” I say, trying to relax again, “it’s double the risk, but it’s also double the reward. If youdoget in for both vocals and dance, you get one more chance later on when you’re eliminated from one category. Yeah, it sucks that they can eliminate me altogether during auditions if I’m only good at one, but if I do get in for both and were to get eliminated from one category during the competition, I can still stay for the other.”

Again, Lana doesn’t question me. She just stares at me with a curious, wide-eyed look. “Wow, you’re really brave,” she says. “Best of luck!”

I smile. “Thanks, you too.”

Lana turns back to the other line to chat with her friend,and I face my own line. Someone must have gone in, because there’s only one person ahead of me now.

Although I rarely get stage fright, I can feel my hands tremble just a tiny bit. I didn’t mention this to Lana, but the biggest gamble I have to make at this competition is whether or not they’ll even take me seriously in the first place. Thanks to Hollywood, body standards are already bad enough in LA, but they’re even worse in the world of K-pop, where even already-straw-thin girls are regularly asked to “cut a bit off their chin” or “get double-eyelid surgery.” I’m neither straw-thin nor do I have double eyelids, so I can only imagine the long list of “suggestions” I’ll probably get from the industry professionals.

Lose one hundred pounds!they’d probably say.Get a nose job! Run up five thousand flights of steps every morning! Feed yourself to the sharks!

Okay, they probably wouldn’t include the last one. But I’d rather do the last one over any of the others on that list.

The thing is, I’m perfectly fine with the way I am. For the longest time, I wanted to be the “perfect” skinny daughter that Mom always wanted. I endured years of diets, strict exercise regimens, juice cleanses, and whatever other health-nut mumbo jumbo she discovered every week. I grew up in Orange County. That sort of thing wasn’t really hard to come by.

But now, I’m over it.Allof it. And if my mom couldn’t change me for the last several years, no one can.

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