-- Geum Min

"You're never going to make it," he tells me quietly.

But I rather he'd shout it to me. I rather have him yell his head off at me than enjoy the sight of my expressions mangling my face with every knife-like word he drives into my heart. Performing is my dream. I want to debut. I'm willing to work as much as it takes, just to debut. But to get my hard work, all my efforts, shot down just like that... 

It's heartbreaking.

Out of the corner of my eye, I catch a glimpse of Yoo Min's worried expression. This is one of the worse trainings that I've had. It always happens under this trainer. You could tell me that he's just pushing me to do better, but no matter how hard I try, he loses his patience with me. He tells me that I don't have it in me to become an idol - I lack too much.

He says I don't dance well. I don't sing well. I don't rap well. How many times is he going to drill the same points into me, over and over?

Okay, I admit, I'm not the best there is. But I sure as anything am going to keep trying to improve. It'd help, though, if he said motivating things like "keep up the good effort!" or "you'll get there eventually, don't give up!" rather than the poison he keeps injecting into me. Criticism is something that everyone needs to embrace in order to improve themselves, but there's only so much a person can take. 

Nevertheless, I am going to keep working hard. If what I'm doing now isn't good enough for him, I shall work harder. I'll work until he's forced to admit that I'm ready - ready to debut, ready for anything. I'll prove him wrong.

With those thoughts in mind, I pull myself up to my feet as soon as he resumes his position at the front of the studio. Ignoring Yoo Min's constant, insistent gaze, I put my heart and soul into the next dance. Evening out my breathing, I let my body flow with the music, as the steps come naturally to me after having repetitively danced through them for so long today. Well they say practice makes perfect, but it's not really the case with dancing. Without your heart, mind and soul in the dance, practice isn't going to cut it. Sure, you can force your body to instinctively remember the moves with practice, which actually does give you more room to think through the steps and put more feeling into it. But in the end it's the feeling and spirit you put into your body through the dance that gives your dance quality.

Step by step, left foot crossing right, and right crossing left at the next instant, I go through the steps with ever-increasing feel for the dance. I feel my body getting tired already, but I'm not giving in. I'll not give in until I attain the level of achievement that will satisfy this guy. The music reaches a , and I throw my hand up into the air, curling it and bringing it back down to tuck it into my body, before leaning into a large step to the right and pushing my hand back out again. All this, I do in the span of a second or two, but with the adrenaline pumping through my body, it feels like I've spent five seconds on the move. 

I continue moving my body to the beat, feeling each move more and more as the music continues playing. Eventually the beat starts to slow, and the singer's voice starts to draw out as he reaches the last chorus. Finally, he hits the last note and his voice quavers in the air as I extend into the position, then relax my body, whille still keeping myself fixed in the ending position. The music ends, and I stand up, feeling ever-so-slightly dizzy, and ravenous. The trainer eyes me, but doesn't say a thing. With a bow, he bids goodbye to us and leaves us to cool down on our own. He leaves without a word to me, or even a nod in my direction.

Ignore him, a smaller part of me says. I turn my head from the door and start my usual routine of cool-down stretches, a slight frown making my face feel tense. 

"Geum Min," my twin says from behind me, and I turn to her. "You look tired."

"I'm fine," I assure her, nodding and sinking deeper into the current stretch I'm doing.

Yoo Min sticks her tongue out at me and shows me her phone, where Skye has sent her a text: Geummie always overworks herself T.T Take care of her okay?

Wrinkling my nose, I push the phone away and bend backwards into another stretch, feeling the muscles in my abdomen and calves pulling as I do so. I feel a little vertigo making my head swim as well, and I push myself back into a standing position hurriedly, before Yoo Min can notice. But she's already started with her stretches. Sighing, I complete my routine and head over to our stuff, plopping down next to our bags and taking a few gulps of water. My sister joins me, and we both sit in companionable silence as we share some biscuit to perk us up. Eomma will drive by to pick us up in ten minutes.

My phone vibrates, and I look at it and see a message from my friend. JO GEUM MIN. WHY DID YOU OVERWORK YOURSELF?!

I glance at Yoo Min, who refuses to meet my eyes. My brow furrowed, I reply, I'm not tired! Really. Did Yoo Min tell you that I am?

YOU ARE TIRED. DON'T LIE. NOW, WHY DID YOU OVERWORK YOURSELF? T.T

I overworked myself, so why are YOU crying? I type back, my fingers flying over the keyboard.

She replies almost instantly, See? You admitted that you overworked yourself.

I roll my eyes. I was just asking why you're crying if you think that I overworked myself.

When you get back home you're explaining this to me, Missy. :P she replies, and I grin, locking the phone.

"Eomma's outside now," Yoo Min tells me, picking up her stuff and hoisting the pack onto her back.

I follow suit in silence, nodding and yawning. It's been a taxing day - more so than it normally is, what with Jin Ae and all the chaos with the trainer and all. The way he says it, it's like I'm never going to debut, in my life. 

But I will. I will, someday, won't I? I mean, it can't be possible that I'll spend my entire life her in Starship just training and training... training until I can't do it anymore... I will have to debut someday, right?

Or is the trainer right? Will I never be good enough to debut?

Shaking my head, I try and get rid of these leeching thoughts and pick up the pace to catch up with my sister as she strolls down the hallway. 

That one star is so bright tonight, brighter than it normally is, despite the rain that's pelting down. It's another one of monsoon's showers. I stick my bare palm out into the rain, enjoying the feel of the cold water splashing on the surface of my skin. Rain is comforting. The feel of rain, the sound of rain, everything about rain just calms me down. Not to mention, the rain is a great place to mask your tears. They just mingle with the rainwater, and nobody can tell that you're crying when it's raining.

I'm not crying now, but I was. When we got home, it was a blaze of activity and energy. The boys, including my brother Jeong Min, and Skye, they were all on a high after having fun with so many various games. Apparently Skye's decent with racing car games, and she even beat Young Min at one round. But the atmosphere didn't seem to mesh well with my inner turmoil, so when it started raining, I grabbed my hoodie and came over to the playground. Then everything just came down on me at once and I cried it out.

After having a good cry... well I'm better now. But my phone is still switched off, since I don't really want to talk to anyone now. They'll know where to find me if they really want me, anyway. I draw my knees up to my chest and rest my sticky cheek on them as I look out at that one bright star in the sky. 

"Geummie-ah," a soft voice floats by from behind me, and I turn to see Skye crawling into my little cubby-hole. 

She's entirely drenched, and her hair is sticking to her forehead. It looks very black when it's wet, and the darkness of the night just adds to that effect, making it look extremely dark, much more than it usually looks. She looks like a drenched chicken. Her sleeves stick to her arms too, and that makes her look longer, somehow. The cold has made her skin pale, but all the colour seems to have gone to her cheeks. Is it me or is she shivering as well?

"Are you alright?" she asks, wrapping an arm around me and huddling closer. 

I'm wet too, so it actually makes no difference to me, but her arm is ever-so-slightly warmer than I am, so it's comforting. It takes about five seconds for the flood gates to break, and I lean my head on her shoulder as my tears start flowing again.

"You owe me an explanation," she says, rubbing my upper arm as I cry silently into her shoulder.

Haltingly, I tell her about my day, and everything's punctuated with sobs. She remains quiet throughout, only making noises of disapproval when I tell her about my trainer.

When I finish, she starts speaking, and her voice is tight. "You actually believed him? No way, you're so much more than he claims you are."

"He's my trainer," I insist, but she cuts me off.

"Trainer or not, I know you. You're talented. Never think that you're not. 

"Listen, you can sing, you can rap, and you can dance amazingly as well. You're also really pretty, and that just makes you perfect idol material, okay? Don't you dare dispute me either, because I know that you're talented since I'm your best friend and I've heard you and seen you dance. That guy, he's crazy. Just ignore him. Or better yet, do a 2NE1 and bring out the big guns while singing 'Naega Jaeil Jal Na Ga'!" she rants, and my tears flow harder listening to her.

I try wiping my eyes. "It doesn't work that way. I'm not good enough."

"He's wrong, I'm telling you. You're more than good enough, okay? You're talented! You told me yourself, that Seoul Arts High accepted you after only one audition. Seriously, you are talented, Geummie, so he has nothing to complain about. Don't let his words get to you okay? Maybe you should work harder, but don't overwork yourself, okay? I don't want you getting sick..."

I smile, and I wipe my eyes again. This time the tears don't continue flowing. "I'll be fine, Skye."

"I sure hope so," she tells me, squeezing my shoulder.

Her phone vibrates just then, and I see a message from Kwang Min, telling us to get back home as soon as possible. "We have to go now," she says, and I nod, sitting straight and wiping my cheeks again. 

We both slip out of the cubby-hole through the slide, and she shivers once more before doing an awkward little dance to get the feeling back in her limbs. I look up at the stars, especially that one extra-bright star, and smile, before turning with my friend to head back home.