Hana

I threw up my hands. “How? How do you have an idea of how to fix this?” I asked my best friend. “If you haven’t noticed, I don’t quite fit the description!”

A mischievous look I knew all too well crept over her face. I gulped. “Yeah, I know that but the judges don’t. And I know how to make sure they never find out. Do you remember when I helped out at my high school production of that Shakespeare play, whatchamacallit—”

“As You Like It?” Miles, who’d finally caught up to us, finished for her.

She crowed. “Yes! That’s the one. Anyway, there was this whole scene where the heroine, Rosalind, turns herself into a shepherd boy and guess who was in charge of the costumes?”

“You?” She nodded enthusiastically. “Great story, but what does this have to do with me?”

Miles nudged me in the side. “She’s saying she can pull off this whole Rosalind transformation on you.”

Eunji smiled beatifically at him. “I knew I liked you.”

“You’re both losing it. In case you’ve both forgotten, this is a super public audition! If I manage to scam my way past the prelims, the next round will be livestreamed to fans all over the world,” I said. “People from Seoul all the way to Timbuktu will be watching. Not to mention all the potential legal or ethical problems if they end up finding out.”

“Hana, they’ll pay you at least a thousand dollars just for one performance.” The smile disappeared from Eunji’s face as she gripped my arm, hard. We both knew just how desperately I needed the money and how low my chances were of finding another thousand before my rent was due.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe I’m actually considering you and your crazy idea right now.”

Sensing her opening, Eunji pressed on. “You just need to win and make it to the live broadcast, then you’ll get that fat stack of cash and we’ll never have to talk about CNTR ever again.”

“Promise?” I said weakly, and we chuckled. “Assuming the judges don’t kick me off the stage, how do you expect me to win and get to the live broadcast?”

“I don’t know! You’re the dancer! But one thing I do know is that I’m going to be right there with you. We’ll figure something out. You need that thousand more than any of the other people in line.”

I took a deep breath to steel myself. Whatever happened would happen, but the stark reality of the situation was that if I didn’t pull a thousand dollars out of a hat now, I’d be out on the streets. Potentially making a fool of myself in front of a handful of people didn’t seem so bad when I pictured myself roaming the alleys of New York, dumpster-diving for scraps in the middle of the night.

“You’re right. But...are you absolutely sure we can pull this off?”

Soft arms and Eunji’s rose-tinged scent enveloped me and I breathed in deep. It felt like home. “There’s only one way to find out.”

***

Jiho

The little brat. I was furious, ready to rip that cocky smile off of Youngdo’s face.

“No. No way am I going to let a guy like you have the final say on who makes it in,” I said. “CNTR is mine.”

It was my baby. I’d sweated for it, fought for it, worked day and night until my toenails had fallen off and I couldn’t stand up straight without pain shooting through my entire body…and this seki thought he’d fly in and take it all away because of who his dad was? No way was I going to let that happen.

Youngdo snorted. “Wake up Jiho. DJ entertainment is my company. Therefore, everything it owns is mine, even this group.”

I barked out a savage laugh. “This is your father’s company, not yours. You’re just some guy who rode in on your famous father’s coattails.”

His interminable sneer wavered. Electricity crackled in the air as we stared each other down.

“I just want to put it out there that I’ll dance with anyone as long as they don’t steal any of my close-ups.” Shin broke in.

“Why do we even have to replace Doyoon? Can’t we just change the moves around a little to fill the gap...sir?” ZT added hastily when Youngdo turned his cold stare at him.

“You’re such a bahbo,” LEO huffed. “Doyoon was the best dancer in the group, we can’t just drop his part. He had so many cool solos, the set would look weird without him.”

“Precisely,” Youngdo put in crisply. “Doyoon’s replacement has to be perfect—this is the VMAs. That’s why I’ll be the one deciding who will fill in.”

“Then you’d better be prepared to replace me, too.” The words slipped out of my mouth before I could stop them, but the surprise that broke through Youngdo’s mask of condescension was worth it. “If I don’t approve of the winner, I’ll be on the next plane back to Seoul just like Doyoon, I can promise you that.”

“Stop it!” Junghoon said. Our manager, who’d always had the nervous temperament of a squirrel, looked like he was mere seconds away from exploding into a million little, stressed-out pieces. “Can we please stop fighting? If we don’t figure something out the producers of the VMAs will want my head on a platter!”

Shin scoffed. “That’s not really our problem, though, is it?”

Junghoon stood up, fire in his eyes, “Listen up. We’re going to have to compromise. I think I have a way.”

***

Hana

The tiny closet we’d found near the entrance of the auditorium was too dark to see properly, and Eunji had to shine her cell phone flashlight directly into my eyes to put on the final few touches. We’d left Miles outside to guard the door and to deter prying eyes. My chest was pretty flat to begin with and I didn’t mind dressing androgynously either, but Eunji was taking me a step further.

I didn’t hate it. I actually felt really good.

“Damn Jiji, you weren’t exaggerating about your styling skills.”

“See? What did I tell you? Always trust your Eunji.”

“The shirt’s way too big though,” I said, gingerly holding up the giant crewneck that draped over me like a sail. “I might trip over it on stage,”

“Oh, don’t be dramatic. You’re lucky Miles had an extra tee in his car at all.” She closed her compact, a funny look in her eyes while her mouth pursed in thought. “Face is done. Now we’ve got to do something about this hair…”

She rummaged through her makeup bag and withdrew a sharp, gleaming pair of scissors. Their wide jaws were lined with wicked teeth that glinted demonically in the bright beam of her flashlight. I cringed as far backward as I could within the cramped quarters.

“No way. No way you are cutting my hair in the dark.” I ran my hands through my hair. It was only brushing my shoulders as it was. “Don’t you have a wig or something?”

“Nope!” With my back against the wall, I couldn’t do much other than try and cover my head as she marched over, brandishing her weapon of destruction. She easily brushed my hands away and swept up my mane of hair. The cold steel of the scissors brushed the nape of my neck as a telltale snip-snip filled my ears. Short chunks tickled my jawline as hunks of hair fell softly to my feet, my mouth agape in horror.

“What did you do?”

Eunji brushed what was left of my long tresses back, snipping here and there before leaning back, satisfied. “Don’t freak out so much. It looks good! A whole new Hana Kyung. You know, some salons on the Upper East Side would charge you hundreds for a cut like this.”

I lunged and grabbed a fistful of her beautiful, balayage-d bangs, trying to snatch the scissors away. Girly-girl that she was, Eunji went down with a thud.

“Hey guys, I think they’re calling everyone to the stage!” Miles whispered through the crack.

“Showtime!” She pushed me off and brandished a tiny hand mirror. I turned my head this way and that, whimpering over the loss of my trusty ponytail. Oh, what I’d do to Eunji after this was over...

“No time for that,” Miles hustled me out the door and into the hall.

“But do I really look like a K-pop idol?” I asked as we ran through the hallway to the stage together.

He glanced over at me, pausing momentarily to take in my new bob, before nodding, “A very pretty boy. You’ll be so far away from the judges on the stage, don’t worry. Just do your best. Now go!”

Before I could argue or change my mind or do anything other than stutter out a meek protest, the throng of other contestants had swept me away.

Here went nothing.