Quintet #2

Nonchalance 

“Jasmine, can't you hurry up? You are being exceptionally dilatory today. Every second is money, honey. If you waste any more time, you can forget about dinner.”

The teenaged girl raised her head to look at the crone. A trickle of sweat threaded its way down the side of her face, and she lifted the tip of her sleeve to dry it off. She did not bother to reply, for if she did, it would only further irritate the old woman. Garnering the last vestiges of her strength, Jasmine hoisted the casket full of apples off the ground, feeling her bones strained under impact.

Hobbling, she forcefully made her way out onto the open roads, where other merchants and vendors ventured, eager to do businesses, ardent to check out the goods. Only when she saw the orangey-yellow hues painted across the setting sky was she reminded that she had been working the whole day. Jasmine's arms were sore with screaming pain from a hard day of manual labour, however, she was forbidden to reveal any form of emotion on her face.

She dropped the casket of apples near the curb of the road, where she and her mother had claimed as their own territory. Behind, her mother approached, dragging an equally large basket. By now, there were a few keen eyes cast their way, wanting to perhaps purchase some fresh fruits. From the side, Jasmine could feel her mother's inquisitive eyes scanning across the sea of potential customers.

“Fresh apples, anyone?” As soon as her mother's voice sounded, several men dressed in exotic clothes accosted both of them, offering to buy several.

“Jasmine, there is still one last casket inside. Hurry up and take it out! The customers are not going to wait for us!” Furiously, her mother barked, flailing her hands for Jasmine to hasten her pace. Biting her lips and fighting her ovewhelming sense of exhaustion, Jasmine assented and rushed back into the warehouse to retrieve the last casket of apples.

She stopped before the beautifully weaven casket and its heap of glistening apples, each piled over the other. The sight itself was inviting, yet Jasmine could feel all her energy flush out her veins. Her limbs felt lifeless, was dry, and her head was beginning to spin. She walked in front of the casket, her two hands grabbing the edges of it, but she waited.

“Jasmine!” She heard her mother's affronted voice. It deepened her resolve and she lifted her casket with her eyes closed. Maybe if she could not see anything, she would not have to think about anything, and maybe she wouldn't know that she was carrying anything. She can maybe feel that everything was a mere dream.

For a moment, it seemed like everything was working. She found herself ambling her way, slowly, but surely, towards the exit.

Right when she was mere inches out of the exit however, her hands finally gave in. She felt all her strength from her like magic, and in the blinking of an eye, her fingers loosened from the edges almost voluntarily. She opened her eyes just in time to see the whole casket crash onto the hard ground, the contents spilling across the dirt-covered floor, followed by the enraged screams and shouts of her mother.

“You! You clumsy lout! How dare you! Do you know how much gold you are costing me! How are you going to pay back to me?” Her mother had a hand raised and she unhesitantly slapped her on the back, and, seemingly insatiated, her next blow was directed at her face.

Jasmine closed her eyes again, waiting for the impact. She felt like passing out. Maybe the pain can lull her into her slumber.

“Wait, Madame.”

Startled, Jasmine opened her eyes and looked up, to see one hand gently grabbing her mother's. The stranger carried a benevolent smile on his lips, his eyes were thin lines expressing sincerity and mirth. His hair was the shade of the radiating sun, his features chiselled and attractive. Behind him, his dark blue cape flowed and reached the ground.

“Don't be angry, I'd buy all your fallen apples.”

**

“ I think this idea is brilliant, but are you sure the fans will be safe after the shooting of the programme? I mean, if there are only specific selected fans, the unselected fans will undoubtedly be jealous-” Suho's voice trailed away uneasily as he lowered the proposal to the table. As soon as he did, Chanyeol reached out and grabbed the piece of paper for himself to go through it one more time.

“There's nothing to worry about, it is true that the fans are randomly selected, but one will be randomly selected out of the hordes sent in from each different country. With all of them scattered across the region, it would be hard for a real physical attack on any of the girls. Besides, we would be asking them to use made-up names on the show. As long as they do not disclose any personal information of themselves, they should be perfectly safe.”

Apprehension was still evident on Suho's face, but Kai leant forward and patted him on the shoulder. “It sounds fun! Of the 8 fans selected, 4 will be participating in the separate shoot for EXO-M right?”

“Yes, that would be correct. We initially intended for the show to be a merged EXO showcase, however the timetable on EXO-M's side appears to be a little too hectic to match up with ours.” The manager replied.

“And so... We'd be split up into teams of two, some of us being paired up with the fans, and we'd be subjected to games and all that? The fans will also be required to be proficient in either Korean or Chinese depending on their allocation, and will also be given training if necessary?” Chanyeol finished reading the proposal apparently, and dropped it back onto the center table.

“Exactly. Don't worry, we won't be asking of you to be engaged intimately with any of the fans. We are planning the show to be a simple one, one in which the audience gets to see the normal life of EXO members, and one in which some EXOtics can be a part of. Lastly, of course, a show in which it shows your friendly sides with the fans themselves, closing the bridge between idols and fans. This is the first of any Kpop idol group, and we do hope everything will progress smoothly and successfully.”

**

This is ludicrous.

These three words seemed to replay in mind like a broken recorder as I sat in front of my laptop, staring at an opened browser page. Dubiously, I turned to look at Charmaine, who was seated right next to me, fervently typing away on the page as she attempts to fill in all her particulars required. She was smiling and whistling a song even.

I don't know why she even bothers to try, when obviously, we are not going to be selected.

Maybe she will, in one of a millionth chance, but that odds will never be in my favour.

I will never be selected. If something is impossible, you should not even bother giving it a shot, because it will end up in bitter disappointment and a total wastage of your time and effort. That time could be spent somewhere else, doing something much more meaningful, trying to reach something that is much more within reach.

“What are you doing?” Finally, she noticed that my fingers were not moving and decided to drop in the question.

“It's just... I know I won't get selected for this, and I don't see any point in doing it.”

Charmaine sprang up defensively. “You can't predict the future, so don't fret your pretty little head. Just fill out the form! For the fun of it! Why do you even want to care about the outcome! It's always about the process.”

Seeing how I had simply stilled into time, recalcitrant to type anything, Charmaine exhaled in annoyance and wrapped up things on her side, before she reached out and grabbed my laptop, pulling it over closer to her.

“Seriously! You are such a pessimist.” she groaned out load, as she begins to type away on my keyboard, helping me to fill in the blanks.

Feeling a little bad over having to make her type my particulars for me, I capitulated and shoved the laptop back to my side. “Fine! I'd type it! But really, this is not getting anywhere. Maybe you will get chosen for this, but I just won't ever be. It's so useless doing this. Fairytales will never occur in this world, because that's just how it is. Maybe to someone else, someone pretty or talented, but not to me.”

Charmaine pouted. “Don't you at least want to see your bias of EXO? Chanyeol? This can be one of your chances!”

I looked up at her from the screen as I continued to fill in my answers. “I'm fine seeing him across the screen. I don't need to be there with him.”

Charmaine rolled her eyes. “Fine. Whatever. Suit yourselves. You are just really weird.”

I finished answering the questions. They were a series of basic questions, asking us about our background, which country we are from, what age we were, our real names, our date of births, our birth certificates, and there were some columns in which they asked you to tell them why you would like to be selected, why you like EXO, who you like in EXO and stating the reasons, so on and so forth.

“There, I'm done.” I said, navigating my cursor and pressing on the 'Submit' button.

Charmaine stood up, her laptop cradled in her arms. “Well, I'd be having a good laugh if you were to be selected, Yuna.”

I shook my head. “Like hell that will come true. I will be having the laugh if you were selected. When will the results be released?”

“A week from now, I think." She tilts her head. "Hey, It's getting late. I'm going home. See you tomorrow!” says Charmaine, as she goes out my room's door and into the living room, where she bade my parents goodbye and departed for home.

After she was gone I rested my head on my bed, mulling deep about the form I had just submitted.

Will I really be selected?

The moment the thought crosses my mind, I led out a small laugh.

Well, congratulations to whoever would be selected, but it will definitely not be me.

**