SARAH’S POV

                I was checking the mail, like always, sorting through the same bills and junk mail, when a small brown packet tumbled to the ground. It came. The packet was finally here. I stared at it, breathless, for a minute, and then ran inside with it clutched in my hand. I sat down at the kitchen table and slowly opened it. As my eyes scanned over the letter, my heart sank. My adoptive mom, Jen Ae, wandered in, and gasped when she saw the packet. “Sarah, is that it? Is that the packet?” I nodded, trying to swallow the lump in my throat. “Well?” she questioned. “Did you get in?” I nodded again, and said, “Mom, they placed me in Korea. I’m not going to England. I’m going to Korea.” Her face slightly fell, and she said, “I’m so sorry you didn’t get into England. I know you wanted to do your internship there.”

                Wanted? I had dreamed of nothing else for the past four years! I smiled sadly. “Mom, it’s okay. I’m going to your home. Korea. It’ll be fun. I hear that internships in Seoul are pretty cool.” Mom smiled and said, “It will be good for you to get in touch with your adoptive culture. Now come, let’s clean up the shop.” I wandered downstairs to where our tea room and salon were waiting to be cleaned. As I restocked the manicure stations, I let my thoughts wander to the program. When I applied to the photography program, I applied for the England study. This was the only thing I had ever really wanted in my life. The disappointment was gut-wrenching. I felt like I’d failed some great prophecy I was supposed to fulfill. And to make it better, I’m going to be stuck in Korea for three and a half months.

               I don’t speak Korean, I don’t look Korean, and I don’t act Korean. The only Korean thing about me is my adoptive parents, and my last name, which I got from them. Sarah Yeun. That’s me. The only non-Asian working at ZenChai tea room and salon. What was for me in Korea? I don’t have anything against Korea, but that doesn’t mean I want to go there to complete an internship that could determine the outcome of my photography career. It's so far away, and so different...all I know is that the next three and a half months are going to be really tough. 

               I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror. Pale, white skin that the other girls at the shop always whispered about, wide, blue eyes, full lips, and straight hair that spilled past my shoulders. I brushed my dark auburn hair out of my face and whispered, “Why do I have to be different?” Many nights I wished that I was Asian, after seeing all the other girls who worked in the shop. They were tiny and skinny. With my 5’5” self towering over them, and my voluptuous curves, I stood out much more than I wanted to. After cleaning up the shop, I walked up to my bedroom and slowly took out my portfolio, flipping through the photographs. If Korea was where I was meant to be, then I guess I’ll go to Korea, but that doesn't mean I'm not going to hate every second of it. 

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                As I walked of the airplane ramp at Seoul International Airport, I looked around at the many people waiting for others to board off the plane. I was supposed to be meeting a translator here, and he was supposed to take me to the apartment where I was staying while I did my internship. A small man with a blue jacket and neatly pressed khakis came up and bowed to me. “Hello, Sa-rah,” he said. “I am Kwon Bae. You may call me Mr. Kwon, and I am your translator. If you would, please collect your luggage and follow me to the car.” I grabbed my two suitcases from the revolving conveyer belt, and followed him to a Hyundai Veracruz. As I put my luggage in the trunk, he said, “I hope you will be happy in Korea.” I nodded and said, “I’m sure I will be.” Lies. I hated it already. It was too different. I liked the quiet, the calm. This place was all bustle and noise.  The signs zoomed by, and I realized I would have to learn at least to read Korean. “Mr. Kwon,” I asked. “Where exactly in Seoul am I working?” Mr. Kwon’s eyes twinkled, and he said, “I hope you like music, Ms. Sarah, because you’ll be surrounded by it for the next three and a half months.” What? How does music relate to photography? Am I going to be photographing instruments? We parked in front of an apartment complex right next to something called SM Entertainment. He grabbed my suitcase, and I followed him up to my apartment, with my carry-on bag in hand. Mr. Kwon handed me a key in front of an apartment that I presumed was mine. Since I couldn’t read the inscription on the door, I memorized the fact that it was on the third floor, second from the right. The apartment was perfect for me. It was small and homey, with windows that let in a lot of light. The pale blue walls had some artwork hanging on them, and the kitchenette was stocked with what I presumed to be Korean food. Mr. Kwon opened up a small door that I thought was a closet, and stepped through to another apartment. He said, “This is my apartment. If you need me, simply knock on the door.” I nodded and replied, “I will.”

After I ate a banana and placed my things in my bedroom, Mr. Kwon let himself back into my apartment, scaring the daylights out of me. “Sa-rah,” he said. “I am to show you around your work area now.” I asked that he give me a few minutes to change my clothes and redo my makeup first, which he thankfully agreed to. I picked out my outfit carefully.  First, some dress pants that fit like skinny jeans, a light blue long sleeved shirt, and a black dress vest over it, with low black pleather pumps to finish it off. I looked in the mirror and was pleased to find that I looked professional, but not uptight.  I grabbed my camera bag and followed him to the SM Entertainment building. We took the elevator to the top floor. Around me I heard the typing of computer keys, and phones ringing. People were talking incredibly fast in Korean. Mr. Kwon took me to a big executive office, where a heavyset man was eagerly talking to a young woman, who I presumed was his secretary. When he finished talking, I bowed to him, and accepted his handshake with two hands. “It is good to meet you, sir,” I said. Mr. Kwon translated, and the man said something in rapid-fire Korean. Mr. Kwon nodded and said, “He says hello, and that he hope you’ll be happy here. His name is Lee Soo Man, and you may call him Mr. Lee.” During the rest of our conversation, I learned that I would be photographing five of their employees, and that I would begin as soon as possible. The ultimate goal was to compile a book of those employees. That struck me as a little odd. Why would they need a whole book featuring five regular office employees?

Mr. Kwon led me down some floors to a room pounding with music. Fiveyoung men were inside, dancing. All were Korean, with really great hair and smiling eyes. They looked like they were about 20 or so, the oldest looking around 23. They were lip-synching to a techno, upbeat song. The song ended, and they all grabbed water bottles and sat on the floor, chatting about whatnot. Mr. Kwon said, “Well, they are good, no?” I looked at him, surprised. “Um, yeah, they’re good dancers. So, who am I photographing?” Mr. Kwon laughed and pointed at the boys. “This is your assignment. They’re a boy band, SHINee. Very good, popular all around the world. You’re taking pictures of them.” It all made sense. How could I be so slow? The place was called SM Studios, for crying out loud. I surprise myself with my slowness sometimes. Mr. Kwon walked over to the boys and cleared his throat. I took my camera out of its bag and snapped the lens on while Mr. Kwon explained to them who I was and what I was doing. The boys had bowed and shook hands with him, and were now staring at me. I smiled and waved. They all waved back, and I walked forward to shake their hands.

The first one pointed at his chest and said in heavily accented English, “I am Onew. I am the leader of SHINee.” Pointing at a feminine looking boy in skinny-jean style sweatpants, a cut-out tank top, guy liner, and perfect hair, he said, “Key.” Key kissed my hand, making me blush. When he saw my red cheeks, he smiled and said, “I can speak English well. I can help Mr. Kwon, also.” The next boy was introduced as Minho. He had layered hair worn longer, and very defined muscular arms, and he shook my hand with a firm grip. He looked almost Indian, though a little lighter. Gesturing to the next boy, Onew said, “This is Jonghyun.” A boy with dark brown hair that fell into his eyes smirked at me and nodded once. Touching the last boy on the shoulder, Onew said, “And this is our maknae, Taemin.” Taemin had smiling eyes, and a young face, though he couldn’t be older than me. Instead of giving me a handshake, he straight out hugged me. Mr. Kwon said, “The maknae is the youngest in the group, almost like the underdog.” I smiled at them and said, “Well, I’m happy to be here. I’ll try and stay out of your way and not bother you too much. We’ll have some language barrier difficulties, but other than that, I’m sure we’ll get along great.” Mr. Kwon translated, and they all smiled and nodded, except for that Jonghyun. He smirked more and whispered something to Key, who drew his eyebrows together and looked me up and down pointedly before shaking his head no. Obviously, he had said something about me. I blushed a light pink, which caused Jonghyun to smirk more.

Mr. Kwon suggested I set up a few shots, which I was happy to do. The first series of shots I took was of their reflections in the mirror that filled one wall of the dance studio. I set them up in black and white, and had them do individual shots, and then group shots. I took a really good one of Minho staring at the camera so intensely that I thought my camera was going to break. The group shots went fairly well. I had them jump into the air and I captured the moment at just the right time. They all had genuine smiles on their faces, and seemed really happy. Then they rehearsed a dance to a very catchy song about someone named JoJo. I couldn’t understand what they were saying, but the melody of the song almost brought tears to my eyes. Taemin was singing, and I slowly raised the camera and took a picture of him standing under a fluorescent light, with the other boys not in the shot. It was black and white, and a beautiful shot. He was sweating, and his eyes were closed; you could tell this was where he wanted to spend his life.

            If only I was that sure of where I wanted to spend my life...

JONGHYUN POV

                When Mr. Kwon walked in with her, I knew something was happening. I could feel it, deep down in my heart, that my life was about to change. I don’t know if it was for better or for worse, but it had changed. We were rehearsing to Ring Ding Dong, and I accidentally messed up again. Aigoo! I shook my head and kept going, coming back in. Then the song ended, and we grabbed our water and sat on the floor. Mr. Kwon introduced her as Yeun Sarah, our new photographer. Great, another person to follow us around. This noona was kinda pretty, though. She was obviously American, with creamy white skin, and straight auburn hair that framed her face. Her full pink lips were upturned in a smile, and her water-blue eyes twinkled, very different from the Koreans I was used to seeing. She was an exotic beauty to us. Mr. Kwon explained that she didn’t want to be in Korea, so we should try to be as “understanding” as possible, were she to get homesick. She took out her camera, then smiled and waved at us. Her smile revealed straight white teeth and a wide grin that reached her eyes. Reaching out to shake Onew’s hand, he introduced us to her.  Key, diva that he is, kissed Sarah’s hand and made a show about his English skills. I didn’t shake her hand, just smirked at her. I couldn’t bring myself to touch her hand, for some strange reason. She turned towards me, offering her hand, and I felt almost…scared. I shifted my weight back, and put on my signature smirk. She slightly narrowed her eyes at me, like she was slightly offended by me not shaking her hand. I just...couldn't. I knew if I touched her, I wouldn't let go. 

Taemin, being the little kid, hugged her. Onew and Minho were the only normal ones in the group, shaking her hand. When we were done greeting her, she said some words in English. She spoke fast, but she was smiling. Mr. Kwon said that she had just said she was happy to be here, and that she would stay out of our way. She mentioned that language barriers might be difficult, but we would work through them. I turned to Key and whispered, “Look at her body slowly. You think she’s one of those American “dancers” that we saw on that show?” I was referring to a show we had seen on American exotic dancers. Key looked her up and down, and shook his head no. Though she had the body for it, I already knew she wasn’t. I just wanted to see her blush again. She turned bright pink, and I smirked at her, causing her to look down at her camera.

                Sarah had us pose for pictures next while we rehearsed JoJo. She almost snuck around us, clicking pictures here and there. She stopped around the middle of the song, and listened closely to the music. I almost thought I saw tears in her eyes, but that might’ve been the light reflecting off her blue eyes. Soon, we left the dance studio and took a break in the cafeteria. We’d have to go to the recording studio in about half an hour and we decided to kill some time by socializing with our fellow SM teammates. Mr. Kwon said he would take Sarah up to the recording studio so they could go over what was allowed to be photographed due to the copyrights, and they soon left.

                Taemin grinned and said, “What do you guys think of the new noona?” Key shrugged and said, “First off, she's not a noona. She's younger than us, but living in America will do horrors to the skin. She seems very quiet, but pretty in the face. Fat, though.  Jjong here thought she looked like an exotic dancer.”  I felt my cheeks redden and mumbled, “No, I was just…trying to…make her blush.” Minho laughed and teased, “Looks like our Jonghyun has a crush on the American. She’s out of your league, hyung. But she isn’t fat, she's curvy. You’re just jealous, Key, because she’s prettier than you!” Onew, who had been thoughtfully munching on some chicken, spoke up. “I think Sarah’s nice. She needs to speak up more though. She has a musical voice.”

                Two of our SM teammates walked into the cafeteria, Sunny and Tiffany from SNSD. As they walked by, Sunny said to Tiffany, “Did you see the white girl from America? The one with Mr. Kwon? She had the perfect face shape. A perfect V. And her S-line was AMAZING, especially her W-line. She was fat, though.” Tiffany replied, “Her skin was so white! And her eyes were double-lidded, too! But she was fat.” After they were out of earshot, Key replied, “See, I told you she was fat.” Minho shook his head and said, “You know, you trash-talk just as much as those girls.” Onew, having finished his chicken, said, “Alright, time to go to the studio.” Taemin whined, “But I didn’t finish my banana milk!” Hitting him upside the head, I said, “Stupid, just bring it with you!” Rolling his eyes, Key said, “Hyungs, chill. Honestly, you act like kids.”

                We were just outside our allotted studio when a soft  singing voice came drifting out. “Who’s in there?” I asked Minho. “I thought we were the only people using this studio today.” Furrowing his brow, Minho replied, “We are.” He cracked open the door, and a slow smile spread across his face. He silently slipped in, and then waved us through, warning us to be quiet. Sarah was perched on a stool in the recording booth, and Mr. Kwon was working the controls, a small smile on his face. Sarah was singing, and it was the most beautiful sound I had heard in a long time. It was an English song, but so entrancing, and so beautiful. Key was softly translating for us. “The first time…ever I saw your face…I thought the sun rose in your eyes. The moon and the stars….were the gifts you gave…to the dark…and end of the skies…my love.” She smiled, and asked a question in English, to which Mr. Kwon smiled and said, “Lovely, just lovely,” in Korean, and in English. She hopped out of the booth, and stopped dead when she saw us standing there. She gulped and slowly reached for her camera. Key tapped her on the shoulder and said, “I thought it was good,” in English slow enough that I could understand it. Sarah blushed and stammered, “Gamsahbnida, thank you.”

                We filed into the tiny recording booth, and warmed up as our recording engineer entered and began to set up. Sarah wouldn’t meet our eyes, and silently stood at the back, raising her camera every so often to take pictures of us through the glass. When we finished, she all but ran out with Mr. Kwon behind her. Taemin suggested we followed her, since we were done for the day. In agreement, we went down the hall until we heard her talking to Mr. Kwon. Key was translating again, and apparently she was saying, “Mr. Kwon, I can’t believe they heard me! I bet they thought I was terrible. I was just messing around, and they actually heard! I’m too shy to sing in public, and the biggest superstars in Korea heard me.” Mr. Kwon said, “Sarah, you were very good. Key meant it when he said you were good.” Chuckling, he added, “And you should’ve seen Jonghyun’s face, when you sang about the love, and the sun in your eyes. Pure awe, Miss Yeun.” Sarah giggled and said, “Please. He seemed a little too arrogant too me.” Onew laughed and elbowed me in the side.

                Key said, “Well, I guess we better go back to our dorms now. We headed next door, and then Minho said, “Wait, won’t she be staying here? I heard Mr. Kwon say she was connected to his apartment. We could visit later.” Onew nodded. “Yes, later. Now, we need rest. Tomorrow we’ve got three interviews and that charity show.” Great, more dancing tomorrow. The others split up to their allotted apartments, and I snuck up to the third floor, where I knew Mr. Kwon’s apartment was. I knocked on the door of the apartment that was supposed to be connected to his, when a thought struck me. What if she wasn’t there? Then, the door opened, revealing Sarah’s pale face and blue eyes. “Hello, Jonghyun,” she said in English. “Come in.” She held the door open so I could come in. I slipped my shoes off, and strode into her rather nice apartment. I knew it wasn’t customary for me to be at her apartment, but she didn’t live with family, and I just wanted to tell her that we really thought her singing was good. I couldn’t think of the English though! I smiled and said, “Er…lovely house.” She smiled widely and said in English, “Yes, very lovely. What do you need?” I ducked my head and said, “Er, we heard you sing.” She blushed and said, “Yeah, you did. It wasn’t good.” I shook my head and said, “No, it was good. We liked it.” Why couldn't my English be better? Sarah nodded and said, “Thank you. I guess.” We fell into an awkward silence, and I began thinking about things I could say. Oh, I should probably tell her to steer clear of Tiffany and Sunny. “In the cafeteria, girls called you fat.”  Sarah’s eyes flared up in anger, and she spat out, “What?! Why would you tell me that? You think I don’t stand out enough? My last name is Yeun and I’m white. I was right, you’re just an arrogant jerk. Get out of my apartment, and don’t come back.” At least, that's all that I could translate. How dare she call me the arrogant jerk? I was trying to help her! How could she not see that?!  Furious, I spun around, and walked to the door, flinging it open. Before I left, I turned around and said in English, “Those girls were right.”

                The last thing I saw before slamming the door was her angry face, suddenly crumpling in hurt. Damn, why did I have to be so angry?

A/N: Well what did you all think? Lemme know in a comment!  The more comments I get, the faster I update.