Chapter Text
ONE: Executive Functioning vs. Idoldom
Why do I always do this? she thought to herself, eyes red from a midnight sobbing session in the bathroom of her trainee dorm.
When Zoey turned five, she declared to her parents she’d become a martial arts master after Disney Channel aired Wendy Wu: Homecoming Warrior. Her parents supported her in their typical affluent fashion: enrolling her in Burbank’s premier taekwondo dojang and never asking her about it again. For a month, she thrived. Between re-watches of the film, taekwondo became her life purpose. On the playground, she practiced forms. She asked her nanny to take her to the library to check out books on the subject, discovered promptly she could not yet read any of them, and used them as pretend boards she tried to split in half instead. At the dojang, her instructors praised her natural aptitude towards fighting, and she glowed beneath the warm praise.
Then, she saw a new show: Aquamarine. Suddenly, her brain fixated on the beauty of mermaids. Taekwondo practice felt like being forced to listen to nails grating against a chalkboard. She wanted to be practicing swimming with her ankles strapped together (surely this preparation would make her eventual tweenage transformation in a few years easier, right?). She wanted to find beautiful shells on the beach. She wanted to do anything but practice forms. She began to falter as she struggled to maintain her focus during practice. Constant praise became corrections and reminders to focus. The lightness in her chest she once felt when arriving at the dojang now felt heavy. I used to be good at this. Why do I always fail in the end?
She’d read once that the definition of insanity was doing the same things over and over again while expecting the same result. I must be the biggest psycho ever. She glared at her reflection in her phone screen, wiping at the mascara stains on her cheeks. She’d auditioned to become a K Pop trainee in yet another fixation fueled impulsive decision. Her acceptance thrilled her at first. In a whirlwind few weeks, she left her family, her country, and all sense of familiarity. This was her new start. Instead of being the weird girl in the corner scribbling down the rhymes in her head, she’d be an idol. The literal embodiment of the girl everyone wanted to be. Life couldn’t be better.
As usual, she’d thrived at first. Trainees were given clear rules, boundaries, and schedules. She couldn’t make a mess of things by not knowing what she was supposed to do. Why couldn’t her old school have made the expectations so clear? Each day had packed schedules full of excitement. Large blocks of time required her to exercise, dance, and sing. Her body hummed with pleasure. Other girls would grumble about how exhausted they felt, but she felt so energized doing this compared to forcing herself to sit at a desk for eight hours a day. She didn’t even have to make her own meals! Perfectly portioned diet meals were given to her from the cafeteria.
Then, it began to fall apart. She gained weight. Turns out having required mealtimes built into her schedule and pre-prepped, delicious food made it much easier to stuff her face. She never imagined she’d miss her former days of constantly forgetting her body needed sustenance and living off of iced coffee or whatever she could grab fast when the hunger finally made her dizzy. She developed nightmares of numbers on the scale and reduced the food on her plate fast. Her instructors cracked down hard when her mind wandered during instruction. Her self esteem crumbled under the scrutiny. Like sharks smelling blood in the water, the other trainees pounced on the former wonder girl. They whispered about the weird American, never let her forget every cultural faux paus she committed, and complimented her lyrics in sugar sweet voices. Desperate to turn it around, she praised her teammates constantly, did them favors, and maintained her wide smile in the face of their scorn. It didn’t help. It never does. I’m the worst.
She was sure to be cut soon. She knew it. A part of her welcomed it. Being an idol trainee was the hardest thing she’d ever done. Her days stretched into the night. The work never ended. Praise was rare and critiques were the norm. She reached for the near impossible metric of perfection in singing, dancing, writing, poise and beauty every minute of every day. And I love it. For the first time, she hadn’t grown bored as the months passed. How could she? The complexity demanded of her captured her every pore. She loved the excitement, the novelty of a goal she could never master, and the daily challenges she had to push her body and mind to master. She loved the idea of the scraps of song in her head becoming real. She wanted to inspire others through her efforts. She wanted this more than anything.
Her brain spun and spun itself into tight knots of anxiety late into the night. The irony weighed on her. I need rest to be my best, but I’m so anxious about being my best I can’t rest. Not for the first time, she longed to spool her brains out of her ears and store them in a jar for a little while, so she could get a few hours of peace. The next day would be big. The trainees were warned a special guest would scout them during their singing lessons. The girls made up ever larger rumors about who the guest was and what rewards would be granted to the trainee who impressed them. Zoey did her best to tune out the gossip. There’s no way I’ll impress whoever it is. I just need to survive the end of the month judgement next week. I can’t get cut!
When singing practice came, she took her spot beside the other trainees. Her fingers twitched, but she kept her posture perfect. The door opened and the impossible walked in. A few girls gasped or began to whisper, but a harsh rebuke from their instructor silenced them in an instant. Celine of the infamous Sunshine Sisters walked in. Two girls who looked to be a year or two older than her followed like shadows. She recognized Rumi: her adopted daughter and a K Pop princess. She didn’t know the other girl who stared at them with narrowed eyes, brushing a strand of pink hair from her face.
“Hello, everyone,” Celine said. She spoke with measured confidence. Zoey leaned in. Something about this woman entranced her. “My name is Celine. With me are my daughter, Rumi, and Mira. I am here today to listen to you sing. Don’t be nervous. I want to hear you at your absolute best.”
Is she forming a group? Is this an audition? But, we’re so young. We’ve barely been trainees for a year. There’s no way. I love Mira’s hair. Should I dye mine pink?
“Zoey!”
She jolted out of her thoughts. A few other trainees smirked at her from the line they’d formed across the room. Face flush with shame, she quickly took her place at the end of the line. Hot tears pricked at the corner of her eyes but with near painful self-restraint she forced them back. She breathed in deep, straight to her diaphragm, the way she’d been taught. While a technique for singing, she’d found it helped her calm down.
You can do this. Be your best. Be the idol you want to be.
She’d discovered the use of mantras after some desperate google searches of questions like “how to fix a broken person” and “what to do when you hate yourself.”
One by one, the other trainees stepped up to a small stage to sing a few lines from a song of their choice. Most chose a song from the Sunshine Sisters to try to win over the former idol. Celine’s face remained impassive. When her time came, she stumbled on the top step. She righted herself, cheeks hot. She noticed Rumi looking at her with empathy. A thread of light broke through her anxiety. So there are kind trainees out there. Good to know. Her mind must’ve been playing tricks, but she felt drawn to her and Mira. As if some invisible string connected her to them.
She’d planned to sing the song they’d been practicing in class, but at once she made the impulsive decision to sing one of her original songs instead. There’s no way I’m going to be good enough, so I might as well take this moment to do what I love. I’m going to sing what’s in my heart.
She opened her mouth and the words, the emotions, all the colors she held inside her head poured out.
"I often long to wear new skin. To shed myself and remove what’s within.
My mind’s my own prison, my thoughts are a prism, too many sides to comprehend.
There’s so much to me, maybe too much to me, but you see right through me
And love me anyway. With you, I want to stay. With you, I know I’ll be okay…"
Her voice died when waves of blue light pulsed from beneath her feet. She watched the light flow out across the room until it vanished. She looked around in shock and saw Celine, Rumi, and Mira exchange meaningful glances. To her surprise, no one else reacted. Was she going crazy? Did that really just happen?
“You,” Celine said. “What’s your name?”
Muscle memory took over. Her spine snapped straight before her waist bent into a deep bow. “Zoey.”
“Please come with us, Zoey.”
She stepped down from the stage, certain she was dreaming. Celine bid her instructor farewell before leading Zoey, Rumi, and Mira out of the room. She led them outside to a picnic table tucked beneath a cherry blossom tree. Zoey caught a pink petal between her fingers.
“You’re not crazy,” Celine said.
Zoey gaped at her. She knows how weird I am? “Those blue waves you saw were real. We saw them too.” Oh, right. That.
“Don’t be scared,” Rumi said, “Those waves are a really good thing.”
“I’m not scared,” Zoey replied. She meant it. No, she was fascinated. Questions tumbled from her mouth so fast the words blended together. “They were so beautiful! Why didn’t anyone else see them? Did my singing cause them? What are they?”
“I like her,” Mira said.
Another thread of warm gold bloomed in Zoey’s heart. Mira and Rumi didn’t have that look on their face so many others did. That smile that didn’t feel quite right. Their kind words didn’t sound sour to her ears the way so many often did.
“I wish I could tell you now,” Celine said, “But I can only share that secret with members of my group. I am building a K Pop group. Rumi was the first member and will be the leader. Mira is also a member and will serve as our dancer. I am looking for one more member, and I’d like it to be you.”
Zoey blinked. Is this real? She’d prepared herself for several more years of brutal training before she’d ever be given the chance to be considered to be chosen for a group. This isn’t how it’s done. No one recruits trainees like this.
“This isn’t a normal K Pop group, is it?”
“You catch on quick,” Mira said.
“So, if I say yes, then we’ll start preparing to launch?” she asked hesitantly
Celine chuckled and shook her head no. “Not quite. You’re all talented, but you still need much more training before anything like that. Saying yes means you’ll become a trainee with me. You’ll move to my training facility and continue to grow. For the most part, your training will be the same as it is here. Though, there will be some additional instruction required.” Rumi and Mira exchanged strange, secret smiles at that. “You three will be my only students. You will live together, train together, and succeed or fail together. Once you say yes, there won’t be any going back. You will be one unit, a family, united above all. This is not a decision to be made lightly. You should take your time. Think it over.”
Zoey took a deep breath. Reflected on all she’d learned. Looked at Rumi and Mira, who gave her encouraging smiles. And did what she did best: dived straight in.
“YES!”
Years later, on the couch between her closest friends who’d long dozed off after the seven hundredth turtle video she’d shown them, Zoey felt no regret for her decision.