The next day I entered SM entertainment with a newfound vigor. Remembering why I was here, and what I needed to do, filled me with an energy and longing in the middle of my chest, like something waiting to explode. I had a resolution to try even harder; to save my dad. Not long after I’d entered the dance practice room, the other trainee’s stumbling about, looking nervous still, the dance coach approached me with a white sheet of paper in his hand.

Curious, I quirked my brow and bowed.

“Here,” he said, handing me the paper, “floor two, room five. You’re being upgraded to Class A dancing.”

I felt my heart skip a beat in excitement. All the trainees were in the lowest dancing grade, C, but now I was being upgraded. They were acknowledging me. A sense of pride bubbled in my chest. So what if I wasn’t great at singing—at least I could dance.

I skipped out of the room, thanking the coach, and looked at the paper with the room number. My hands were shaking with excitement; finally I was standing out. That meant my chances of entering some kind of group were going higher, and I even dared to hope that I would be put in Super Junior.

But at who’s expense?

I shook my head and decided to mull on those thoughts later. Right now, I just needed to focus on doing my best, regardless of the outcome.

I reached the door and awkwardly stood outside, a sudden rush of awkwardness filling me. I hoped that I would get along with the people inside—I hoped their passion for dancing rivaled mine. I wanted to be able to dance and have fun with people who really cared about what they did. I raised my hand and timidly knocked on the door three times before opening it, keeping my head low, ready to bow.

Upon opening the door, I saw three others in the room, all dancing to hip hop. They were amazing dancers, and I realised with a shock, that I recognised two of them. Eunhyuk and Donghae. I was surprised I could even recognise Donghae, but he still had that blank, dull expression on his face that everyone liked to make fun of. I stifled a laugh and shuffled in, hoping not to distract them until they had finished their dance, but Eunhyuk noticed me anyway and stopped dancing, looking at me with curiosity etched on his face.

He walked up to the tape recorder; I marveled again at how old everything was; and turned it off. The beat died along with the other two’s moves, and I began to feel extremely out of place and awkward.

“Um, hi. I’m Park Shin. They just told me to come up here, so…” I said, feeling my face go red. I hated how awkward and shy I was.

Two of them stared at me as if I’d just told them something completely strange and ridiculous, then they looked at Eunhyuk for answers.

“Oh!” Eunhyuk exclaimed, “You’re joining us?” I nodded, then he said, “Guys this is the kid that looks like Leeteuk’s twin. Weird, right?” They both murmured in assent, and I felt myself shrinking under their gazes, embarrassed.

He frowned at me. “Usually they don’t put people who’ve just joined into dance group A.”

I wanted to say something sassy, like: Usually people aren’t as good as me. But there was no way I could, so instead I said, “I don’t really know why, they just sent me here.”

Eunhyuk nodded then shrugged his shoulders, like he’d given up on caring and was ready to move on with all the small talk. “Can you dance to something? I’m just curious. Plus you don’t know our routine—oh, I forgot, this is Donghae, and Hankyung,” he said, point to each person respectively.

The name Hankyung rung a distant bell, but I wasn’t sure I recognised him. I knew somewhere in the back of my mind I knew him, but I just couldn’t place a memory to the face or name, and it frustrated me. I wished I was back in my old time so I could just ask somebody without sounding crazy. I bowed at them, then Eunhyuk went to the tape recorder and started up a beat.

The three watched me as I freestyled, and I felt a bit stiff with pressure; having three people judging you while you danced could really weigh pressure on your shoulders. I finished up, then Hyukjae clapped, large and exaggerated.

“You’re really good,” Donghae said, looking impressed.

I was relieved and thankful at the same time.

Eunhyuk raised an eyebrow and said, “Yeah, I can see why they sent you here.”

Hankyung stayed silent, then twitched his lips. “Good.”

“Um, thank you,” I bowed, feeling grateful for their praises.

Eunhyuk laughed and looked at Hankyung. “He doesn’t speak Korean very well. He’s from China.”

“Oh?” I said. Then, in the Mandarin that I had learned, albeit it wasn’t very good, I asked, “You’re Chinese?”

Hankyung opened his eyes in shock, then rapid fired something back at me I couldn’t quite catch fully, but I understood the gist of it: You can speak Chinese?

“Yes. Not well.” I was trying to get my point across, hoping that he wouldn’t send a tirade of speech my way.

He nodded, then smiled like he was deeply pleased and excited that someone could speak his language here.

“Anyway, come join us. We’ll show you the moves.”

“Yes, Eunhyuk hyung,” I said, smiling.

Eunhyuk looked at me funny, then said, “My names Hyukjae.”

I turned white.  Big mistake. “Uh—sorry you remind me of someone, sorry Hyukjae hyung.”

He shrugged me off, but I felt a cold, wet feeling slide down the back of my throat like ice. How many times could I make a mistake with no one noticing?

I just had to hope that I wouldn’t say something too out of line, otherwise who knew what would happen.