Dancing was hella infuriating.

It wasn’t hard. No. Tiffany had more than enough physicality and stamina for it. But it was tear-your-hair-out maddeningly annoying. Every little move had to be synchronized. Every placement of the limbs, the body, the neck, the head and even the freaking fingers were positioned in a certain way! Tiffany had rather easily picked up pretty much the gist of the dance routines the girls were practicing, but her boxing background never stressed so much miniscule muscle detail. She wanted to scream and punch something.

Who the hell cares whether my fingers are angled right?! Want me to give you another angle on that finger there?!?!

And it certainly didn’t help that Yeonhi, Miyeon, Yuki and another girl called Junghwa (made-up), seemed to make it their job to ‘accidentally’ shove Tiffany at every turn, or randomly stick out a foot to try and trip the new girl. Tiffany was more than capable of fending off such childish tactics, but she wanted to maintain her façade of a timid harmless girl. So she let herself be shoved and pushed, let herself fall despite seeing the danger, all much to the foolish delight of the four malicious girls.

Each time, Tiffany gritted her teeth and took solace in knowing that their joy was really baseless and misplaced. To everyone else, Tiffany just seemed to be a satisfactory dancer with sudden fits of clumsiness. Only one person saw through the charade and she bristled in anger, but said nothing.

Just as Tiffany ‘tripped up’ for the fourth time that day, there came a knock at the door.

“Hi girls. Just wanted to drop by and see how yo–” the president’s brows furrowed in dismay, seeing Tiffany take a dive to the ground. He strode over and helped Tiffany up, brushing her off gently and looking very concerned.

The other girls had stopped and were staring now. The president never usually came in casually just to check up on them much less take such personal interest in a trainee. And such tender interest it was… Mr. President was about to steer Tiffany towards the door, probably with the intent of talking to her in private when Tiffany stood her ground, stubbornly digging in her heels like a cow in the middle of a country dirt road.

“Please sir, I’m ok, just let me finish training,” Tiffany bowed low. The president pursed his lips and thought for a moment before giving a stiff nod. Then, as quick as he had come in, he was gone.

The moment he walked out the door the practice room was filled with hushed whispers, not for the benefit of the subject present, but for the sake of not getting 'caught' talking bad about their president.

I wonder what the president wanted?

You think she’s sleeping with him?

Tiffany Hwang…who are you?

Gawd! He’s old enough to be her grandfather!

It’s so nice of Mr. President to come in just to check on us like that, what a nice man! He cares so much about us! …Oooh! Candy!

Eww! So gross! He probably needs the help of a little blue magic…

Tiffany heard all that and more. But she chose to ignore it, knowing that giving them a reaction would only add fuel to fire. Instead, she stared fixedly at herself in the mirrors and practiced even more vigorously than before.

When practice finished, the rest of the girls went to shower and Tiffany stayed behind to ask the instructor for a few extra pointers. By the time she made it to the showers, all the girls were already all lined up and soaping themselves under the showerheads. The only shower left was the one at the far end.

Tiffany knew exactly what was coming. As she walked down the row of showers to the vacant spot, she could hear collective gasps. Some out of shock, others out of concern, and still others out of horror.

Tiffany was not ashamed of her body. It was true that she had seen more than her fair share of hurt and pain, both emotional and physical. The scars on her body were a testament to that. But she saw no reason to be ashamed of her past because her past included the people she loved. How could she bear to defile their memory by being ashamed of what they had shared? Her past had made her who she was today. They had made her who she was today. And while Tiffany knew she wasn’t a ‘good’ person by anyone’s standards, she knew she had never harmed someone out of purposeful malicious intent. She had always done the best with the given circumstances, and mom and dad would forgive her for it.

Her scars were a reminder. NOT of the brutal instances and consequences of when she got them, but of the enduring loving and happy memories that existed despite the horrible circumstances. They were a part of her, imparted their mark on her both physically and emotionally. However the physical scars were not something she looked upon with pride. She was no twisted masochistic psycho