Page 27 of I'll Be the One

MOM:When are you going to come home today? It’s late.

I only then realize that it’s already around seven p.m. Mom must have just gotten home from work.

ME:I’m probably going to leave within the hour. I have a ride back so it’s okay.

MOM:OK.

And that’s it. I half expect Mom to say something else, to acknowledge the fact that the last time we had a real conversation was when I got back from my first competition rehearsal. But of course, she doesn’t. I guess it’s more wishful thinking on my part than an expectation.

Well, at least she still cares about me?I think. But even I know that doesn’t even remotely make up for how long she’s been giving me the cold shoulder. Dad probably asked her to check in on me.

“Hey, what’s up?” Lana asks, looking concerned. “You okay?”

“Yeah. I just need to head back soon. That was my mom.” I gesture at my phone, and Lana nods.

“Okay, yeah, let’s wrap things up for tonight.”

We drive back down to Orange County in silence. Lana stopped trying to talk to me after her last few attempts at conversation ended with me giving monosyllabic answers like “yeah” and “nah.” I feel really bad about not being better company, but I also can’t bring myself to pretend that everything is all right. Mom has that effect on me.

Lana pulls up to the curb in front of my house.

“Hey,” she says. “I know you probably don’t want to talk about it, but whenever you do, I’m here for you, okay? I know things aren’t great between you and your mom, and even though my reasons are different, I know what it’s like to have a strained relationship with a parent.”

“Thanks,” I reply. “I really appreciate it.”

“Don’t sweat it,” Lana says. “Well, actually, yes, sweat it. Let’s totally kill it with this performance. Show the haters what we’ve got.”

Lana makes a big heart with her arms above her head. The gesture is so cute that, despite my panic, I can’t help but smile and say, “Okay.”

“See you in two weeks!

“See you.”

By the time I reach my doorstep, I feel a bit better. So whatif my mom isn’t supportive of me? At least I have friends like Lana who are. And I have Dad, who’s probably waiting on the other side of the door, eager to hear how my day was.

I put a smile on my face and enter the house.

Chapter Eleven

AFTER THE COMPLETE SILENCE THAT WAS OURhouse before Dad came home, his presence is a breath of fresh air. We talk almost nonstop during what we have left of the weekend, and Mom even smiles and nods along to our conversations. She’s always on her best behavior whenever Dad’s in town, so much that I doubt Dad even knows what’s been going on between Mom and me.

Too soon, we have to drop Dad off at LAX and I’m again alone with Mom. And then we’re right back to how things were before. Pretending the other doesn’t exist, for the most part, anyway.

When I have to go up to LA for the next dance practice, I don’t even bother asking Mom for a ride. Instead, I take an Uber to the train station and then the metro once I’m in the city. It takes me about twice as long to get to the studio, but LA public transportation is so bad that I consider myself luckythat I even make it to my destination at all.

“Okay,” Bora says as I walk in. “We’re going to get started. When we call your names, please come down to the front of the room. You have been paired off for the second round of eliminations.”

Everyone tenses up. Some people grumble under their breath about how it’s not fair that people in the vocals category got to choose their groups. I stay perfectly still. Since I’m in the vocals category, too, I don’t think I have a right to say what’s fair or not.

“You will thank us later,” Mr. Park declares loudly, like he’s some gracious king. “Freedom of choice is not the blessing you all think it is. By dancing with the person we assigned you, you won’t have to blame yourselves if you end up getting eliminated.”

No one really complains after that, not because they agree with him, but because there’s no use in protesting. I stretch a bit, reaching to touch my toes and then bending my torso from side to side, as I wait for the judges to call my name.

“Skye Shin and Bobby Lim.”

I get up as a guy walks up to the front of the room. From his loose pants and snapback, I can already tell that he’s a break-dancer. I can’t break-dance to save my life, so I’m trying to figure out how we’re going to dance together when I realize he’s full-onglaringat me. You’d think I ran over his dog or something.

“I have to dance withher?” he practically yells. “Are you trying to get me kicked out? Of course I’ll lose if I dance with the fat girl.”

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