“Are you nervous?” my best friend, Yoon SunHi asks through a full mouth, as she slurps up a big bite of noodles.

We’re sitting in our favorite restaurant, a quaint and sunny family owned shop in the heart of Seoul. I anxiously smooth the front of my new dress, trying to iron out any wrinkles I might have missed this morning. I spent all of last night tossing and turning, stressing over what I was going to wear to the big event. I even got up early this morning to iron my dress and make sure that everything was just perfect. The reason was that I was finally, for the first time in my life, going to chase down my dreams and audition to become a singer.

Just a little over a month ago, the news came out that YG Entertainment, home of my favorite idols, was going to be hosting auditions in Seoul to find the next trainees for their new girl group. Naturally, I freaked out a little at first. Then I came around to the realization that I could do this. I really could become a singer. All it took was a little persuading on my parents’ behalf… I begged relentlessly for weeks, trying in any way I could to convince them that singing was my dream, my passion, and that I couldn’t ever imagine doing anything else. At first they told me that it would never happen. ‘Why don’t you go to law school or become a doctor?’ they asked. But after dozens of silent dinners at the family table and hundreds of tears, they finally agreed to let me audition.

Even though I knew that I might have a chance if the judges just heard me sing, I was unable to rid myself of the nagging feeling that I wasn’t good enough. My grades had significantly dropped and I hadn’t gotten any sleep in the past few weeks. I was even starting to show the exhaustion I had been feeling over the coming audition. The natural dark circles under my eyes had deepened in their shade of purple-blue, and I could hardly keep my eyes open in class. So, was I nervous…?

“A little,” I say evasively, in an effort to keep SunHi from worrying as much as I have.

Her big, brown, puppy dog eyes bore into mine as she tries to read my expression. She pushes her oversized retro glasses up the bridge of her nose, finishes chewing, and says in a matter-of-fact sort of way, “You are so lying.”

She knows me so well. We’ve been best friends for as long as I can remember, back when we were still playing in mud puddles and exploring all the nooks and crannies of the back alley behind her family’s apartment.

“You’re right,” I sigh, picking at my untouched food with my chopsticks. “What if they don’t pick me?”

SunHi stops mid-chew and frowns. “Why would you even think that they wouldn’t pick you?”

            “Molla,” I say, looking down at my lap. I stare at the vivid print of my dress for a long time before I finally look up again.

            SunHi pushes her gigantic bowl out of the way and reaches over the table to grip my hand tightly. “Look at me,” she says gently. “Do you remember how when we were really little we would put on performances for our parents and we would sing and dance? And how I always used to cry because you were so good at it? Well, you’re still amazing at it. I wish that I was as good at singing as you are.”

“But what if I’m not good enough?” I ask, finally saying the one thing that’s been constantly on my mind for the past month, but I’ve been too afraid to say out loud.

SunHi squeezes my hand and gives me her infamous eye smile. “Don’t even worry,” she says, “You are totally going to win this thing.”

“Thanks,” I say, feeling a little better already, but I can still feel butterflies in the pit of my stomach.

“Plus,” SunHi adds, sweeping her bangs out of her eyes, “You’re going to meet Big Bang and 2NE1 once you start training. And when you do...” There is a mischievous glimmer in her dark eyes. “You have got to get me an autograph.”

I just laugh, remembering her long time dedication to our favorite pop-stars.

“What time does the audition start?” SunHi asks, reaching into her purse for her wallet so she can pay our bill.

I check the time on my phone and let out a shrill squeak of surprise. “Omo! It’s already noon! The audition starts in thirty minutes!”

We quickly gather our things; hurriedly thank Ahjussi Lee, the owner of the restaurant and a family friend, and race out the door towards the underground subway entrance. We barely make it onto the next train in time, but manage to hop on before the doors slam closed. The ride to the YG building seems like it lasts forever. The inside of the train is hot, humid, and crammed with people, which don’t help to ease my nerves. Squished up in between a frail, elderly woman and a little boy on a lollipop, I grip the hood of SunHi’s jacket tightly to make sure that I don’t lose her in the crowd of people. With each passing moment I feel the knot in my stomach tighten as we grow closer and closer to the YG building.

Finally, the train screeches to a stop. I follow SunHi off the train in a daze, never releasing my hold on her jacket. She even has to pry my fingers off once we’re safely standing on the cold, hard concrete.

The walk up the subway steps and out of the dark and dreary tunnels seems even longer than the train ride. I drag my feet up each step one at a time, one at a time, one at a time. Once we’re above ground, we round a corner, walk past a toyshop and a tourist store, and then we’re there.

The first thing I notice about the YG building is the massive line of people. There must be hundreds of thousands of millions of girls standing in a line that snakes around the modern, grey building. I glance over at SunHi anxiously. is hanging open in bewilderment, just like someone out of a cartoon.

She shakes my arm without ever moving her wide eyes away from the never-ending line of girls. “O-Omo! L-l-look at the line! I didn’t even know that there were this many people in the world!”

We reluctantly take our spot as last in line. It takes hours to shuffle our way through to the building entry and even then the line snakes through the breezy and open building’s hallways. Finally, after so long, there is a woman who takes our names in front of a giant metal door and directs us to the waiting room.

We take our seat on fluffy, long, white couches along with perhaps twenty other girls and wait for our names to be called. SunHi reaches for my hand and nearly squeezes the life out of me as we wait. I almost forgot that she must be nervous too. I wonder if she’s spent as many sleepless nights as I have, wondering about the outcome of the auditions.

I try not to think about the auditions—to focus on anything else that might possibly distract me, but I can’t free myself from the feeling that I’m not good enough. I’ll never make it, I think.

Just then, a woman wearing a stiff, crisp white blouse with her hair pinned back in a tight bun opens the metal door and calls out, “Choi YeoJin!”