She left home right when she turned nineteen. Freedom was what she called it.

 

 

From the tender age of thirteen, she had promised herself she'd get emancipated. And now, four years later, it had all gone into fruition. Her coming of age had signified she was freed from the shackles of dependency on her mother and at that time, her only wish was to get far away from the woman who had given birth to her.

 

 

Her mother was the reason her father left them, after all. Back then, he had told his little princess he wasn't happy with their relationship anymore—that her mom wasn't making him happy enough.

 

 

Dara believed him.

 

 

And she blamed her mother.

 

 

They weren't exactly living on modest means back then. The divorce proceedings had made sure of that. The way they—Dara and her mom—lived had only picked up when her mother had found a job.

 

 

But Dara hated it.

 

 

Her mother stripped for a living. She loved it.

 

 

Dara didn't.

 

 

The men loved it. Her pimp loved it. Everybody loved it.

 

 

Only Dara didn't.

 

 

There were times her mother brought her to work when she thought Dara wasn't old enough to be left alone. She'd stay hidden in the big boss' room, with dirty magazines, some good ol' o playing on the tv, and when she's lucky, her mom's stripper friend Sweety would babysit her. Well, that is if babysitting meant chatting up about how much she loved the attention men gave her during her sets.

 

 

Her mother would occasionally bring men she called her friends back home to do some catching up. Dara wasn't stupid. As a curious and hormonal teenager, she knew the moans and groans she heard in her mother's room just didn't shout out casual reunion.

 

 

Dara didn't want to live that way. She blamed her mother for all the things her father blamed her for. He was right when he had said she was always finding love around street corners. It took her quite a while to realize what that had meant. Her mother was a stripper by profession but an occasional hooker on the side.

 

 

It was right at that moment Dara promised herself she'd always try to lift herself up when she's about to reach rock bottom. I won't be like her. I won't end up like her. She promised herself. Funny how fate has destined her to live her nightmare.

 

 

Dara had ended up being a stripper herself.

 

 

***

 

 

TWO YEARS AGO

 

 

"Are you really going to audition for this, Tokki?" Her best friend Irene asked, holding up her friend's printed email in front of Dara's face.

 

 

"Yes. Says it pays well and boy, do I need some cash on me now." Dara said, lifting her hand to wipe that sheen of sweat off her forehead. "I've got bills to worry about. I'm behind on paying rent."

 

 

"But this thing is on the classified ads! You don't know what you're getting into if it's on the classified ads!"

 

 

"Oh Baechu, you paranoid little bunny~ It's not an ad…it's an invite~ It says it right there. Auditions are going to be held at that Gangnam Dance Studio. Gangnam, Baechu! Where all the money is!"

 

 

Dara said a little excitedly. "If I get this dancing job, we could finally get you the glasses you so badly need~"

 

 

"If you get this dancing job, I'm going to be happy for you. It's what you've always dreamed of! But you don't know what you're going into! Heavens, the invite didn't even say what happens if you pass the audition!"

 

 

"I get to dance! Maybe this is an audition for backup dancers. Gangnam is a haven for entertainment companies and they're in need of some dancers—"

 

 

"You said you don't want to be one of those idols—"

 

 

"And I won't! Scouts find idols and if this is an idol audition, I'd know which company I'm trying out for. I just want to dance, Baechu! You know I do! I have to take this chance…this could help us—"

 

 

"I know this is quite self-serving since you just said this could help us, but if this is what you want, then go do it. But you can't be too trusting with these things, Tokki. What if this…thing you're getting into turns out to be something you can't even handle?" Irene asked, turning her pretty face towards her friend with obvious concern.

 

 

"I always know how to handle things, Baechu. You know that."

 

 

"That, I do. But—"

 

 

"No buts. I'm going to this audition no matter what."

 

 

Dara had certainly thought the audition was the answer to all her money woes. What little money she had saved when she finally left home was gone. Not that it was a whopping fortune but it did help her survive for a while.

 

 

It helped her survive for about a year. Of course, having Irene as her roommate had helped her minimize her expenses. They had found their homeless selves spending their first night away from home in a public bathhouse. Their friendship instantly clicked and they had decided to bunk together at one of the cheaper bedrooms they had found advertised in newspaper clippings.

 

 

Juggling odd part-time jobs had helped them pay for the roof above their heads but they had sworn to actually finish what their parents had never done and that was, of course, to put themselves through school. Irene had a whole different sob story from hers. She was sent to Seoul by her beloved parents because they believed it would give her a good life. If only they knew how Baechu was working so hard to make them believe what they wished for her was true, then she'd be sure they'd be scurrying to Seoul, dragging Baechu back to Daegu where she could live comfortably.

 

 

It was an entirely different story from hers as she was a runaway daughter who had thought she had escaped from her mother forever. Imagine her horror when she faced her mother again for the first time in a year when they had told her she had passed that damned dance audition for strippers.

 

 

Yikes.

 

***

 

 

DANCE AUDITION

 

 

The dancers were given masks before they were led to the dance hall where Dara presumed was the place the audition was going to be held. At first, she thought it would be bothersome to dance with something covering her face but after a bit of thought, Dara had deduced that the judges--who were also wearing masks--were looking at how well they move their bodies and not how pretty they looked while dancing.

 

 

After three scrutinizing rounds of elimination, they were left with six dancers, including herself, on the floor. They were made to copy the mildly routine one of the judges had demonstrated in front of them. They were told to dance the routine again and again, with the masked judges now walking around to assess their approach to the routine.

 

 

She was moved everywhere--the front line, the back line--to see how fast she could pick up the routines that were quickly shown to them. She had caught the eye of one of the judges and just after a few changes in positions, she had made the cut.

 

 

***

 

She hasn't received professional dance lessons but she had the moves. That's one of the three traits she had inherited from her mother.

 

 

The second one is confidence.

 

 

The third—sass.

 

 

Those three traits were seen when each of the final three dancers was told to do their prepared individual routine. Dara had chosen to dance to Slumberjack’s Afraid, Unafraid, an electronic dance track, which showcased floor and tumble sequences she had practiced and mastered a couple days ago.

 

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