Page 49 of I'll Be the One

“Clips of your audition are on YouTube already,” Mom says. “And people are commenting nonstop.”

My heart beats even faster than it was before. Of course, Iknewpeople would watch my audition, and yeah, Iwashoping I would make enough of an impression that people would know who I was, but I never thought everything would be this big of a deal. At least, not this early. I always thought that if I did “make it,” I would become famous at the end of the competition, not at the very beginning. And I never imagined that everything would be this... stressful.

Honestly, I think I’d be okay with everything if Mom weren’t right in front of me looking like she just found out I’m going to jail. I’m half expecting her to ground me when she asks, “Is there no way for you to drop out of this competition now?”

“Of course not,” I say. “We’re already almost two months in, and the second elimination round is next Saturday.”

In reality, I’m sure Icoulddrop out if I said there’s an emergency, but there’s no way I’m telling Mom that. I worked waytoo hard to even get into this competition in the first place. And the fact that Mom is even suggesting that I quit only makes me want to stick with the competition even more.

“And an episode of this show is going to come out every week?”

“Yup.”

She cringes. She actually cringes. “How am I going to show my face to everyone after this? What am I going to tell my customers? Your relatives in Korea are already messaging me about the audition.”

I can hardly believe my ears. She’s thinking about how my going viral will affecther.

“Why can’t you ever be proud of me?” I blurt out before I can stop myself. Some part of me, though, is glad I said it. I needed to get it off my chest. “You know I’m good. You even admitted it.Whyis that not enough?”

“I just wish you were more self-conscious! People all over the world are commenting on how fat you are. And they’re probably thinking I’m a bad mom for letting you become like that. I have to hide my face whenever I go to the Korean supermarket and pray I don’t run into someone we know. I couldn’t even open any of my KakaoTalk messages past the notifications because I’m afraid of what our relatives are saying.”

Her face is full of real terror, like her worst nightmare has come true. I think about the photos Sally showed me on her computer. About how Sally said that Mom’s this way because she’s afraid of other people, not because she hates me. I alsothink back to what Dad said about how Mom’s lack of support is nothing personal on my part. Now, I almost wish itwas, because then I could figure out what to do about it. How am I supposed to fight this when it has nothing to do with me, and everything to do with Mom herself?

“Well, maybe they’re just messaging you to say how proud they are of me,” I say. “How do you know what they’re saying without reading the full messages?”

“I just know,” Mom says. Her eyes are steely, and I can’t tell if she’s mad at me or at what our relatives might have said.

I wish I could shake Mom and get her to see that none of that really matters. That all of her fears are more of a testament to how low her own self-esteem is than anything else. That no one cares about us and our image as much as she does. These are all things that Dr. Franklin, the school counselor, told me whenever I went to see him last year, and that’s probably one of the few reasons why I’m so okay with who I am now.

Mom, though... I’m not sure if even Dr. Franklin would have any luck with her. She’s so set in her ways.

But there is one thing that I knowwillchange her mind. Or at the very least will get her to really see me and respect me more than any words will.

“What if I win the competition?” I say. “Will you still be unable to show your face around then?”

Mom looks like she’s not sure whether to gasp or laugh.

“Haneul,” she says softly. “Do youreallythink you have a chance?”

I ignore her patronizing tone and shrug. “I can try my best. I’ll prove to you and all the haters out there that size doesn’t matter. I’m a good dancer and singer, period. Me being fat doesn’t mean I can’t do things. And I’m going to show everyone that I didn’t let anyone—not even you—stop me.”

At that moment, her phone rings. She pauses for a moment, staring blankly at it without answering.

I get out of bed, in no mood to sleep anytime soon.

“I’m gonna go walk around the block,” I say. “I need some fresh air before I go to bed.”

Mom doesn’t even look up at me as I leave.

Luckily, our neighborhood is really safe, even late at night, so I walk around while scrolling through my phone. Without Mom looking over my shoulder, I can actually process everything in peace.

Despite the pig emojis, most of the tweets I got tonight are pretty nice, with people saying how much I inspired them. I reply to texts from Lana and Tiffany, who missed the show when it was airing but are catching up now after coming back home from a night out. Finally, I FaceTime Rebecca and Clarissa again, and they go on and on about how proud they are of me.

“I, like, cried,” Clarissa says, dabbing her eyes. “Look, I love Henry, and I’m stillso jealousthat you’re his partner. But, wow, that speech you gave in front of the judges. And your performance! Consider me your number one fan.”

“Ahem,” Rebecca says. “I’m number one. You’re number two.”

“You canbothbe my number ones. Duh.”

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