New to the Apple Hair world? Start here for the introduction and table of contents. Apple Hair is a fictional, Asian American boy band from Hawaii, and this novel marks the beginning of their story.
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Being smart sometimes means showing little reaction. I train my face to still as the most handsome guy I’ve ever seen walks through the door.
It seems every trainee notices him at the same time. He gives off an air of importance, and the space around him almost wavers. Like he has power radiating off his skin. I blink quickly and think about the science of being grounded, of breathing. I often tell my little sister that all it takes to train and quiet your mind is a few steady breaths. One. Two.
I turn my attention toward my food as he looks our way. “I don’t get starstruck easily,” I tell my team members. “But he looks like he owns the company.”
“He kind of does,” David says. “He’s the new producer. He’ll be overseeing the development of all the groups?”
Seiya breathes through puckered lips. “Damn. That’s crazy.”
The two boys look at each other, as if sharing a thought. Then, they look away and pick up their pizza at the same time. I've observed too much about the world to miss the clues those two give off all the time.
“It’s a good thing he’s here, right?” Corrin says, shaking in his seat. “That has to be a good thing! It means that we really are going to make some progress.”
Corrin reminds me of my little sister, Lora. Corrin and I are around the same age—I'm actually younger by one month and eight days—but his energy radiates pureness, just like my sister who I've tried to protect my whole life.
I nod, trying not to burst his bubble. I do remember the guy. Leo Pak. I’ve seen him in several interviews, and he quit the idol scene to take up a managerial position. I remember his lyrics to one of his most famous songs. My memory, which rarely fails me, gives me the melody alongside.
Opening up to you.
A new parallel
Ah, ah, lead me down the stairwell.
His voice makes me heady. I visualize myself spitting out my pizza, as if that would get rid of the sour taste in my mind. Then I turn and Leo’s completely gone. But the trainees don’t notice. They already turn back to their meals, oblivious.
“Where did he go?” I say, my voice matching some of my confusion.
“What?” Van turns his head like an owl. “No idea.”
I shake my head, wondering whether the air in the company makes me nauseous. I down my meal in about ten bites and tell my team that I’m going to head to take a nap before we’ve to head to our last dance practice.
Leo Pak stands in the hallway.
“Oh.” I take in his sharp jaw and the way his eyes swirl with wonder. “Hi. Welcome to Hawaii.”
He mutters something in Korean, but I haven’t taken enough language classes to discern the meaning. I think he says something about the weather, but I’m not completely sure.
“Well….” I press my lips together, reminding myself of my disapproving grandmother. “Nice to meet you.”
I shift around him, but he grabs my shoulder. An icy wave travels into my joints, and I stifle a gasp. His English sounds unnatural, but still clear. “Be careful.”
“I will,” I say, trying not to overthink things. My sister often says I get stuck in my head, going over hypothesis over hypothesis.
But as I head up the elevator to the dance room’s floor, I pore over Leo Pak’s words. What do I have to be careful about?
I often sleep in the dance studio so that the boys will wake me up when the instructor comes. As I close my eyes, I think about our group—five Asian American guys with a dream of setting foot on the world stage.
I rub my arms and turn, opening my eyes and studying myself in the mirror. I see what the world would see—an eighteen year old Filipino guy who looks like he could use three naps in a row. I turn, closing my eyes again, using my forearm to block out the light.
I dream of snorkeling, even though I’ve never been. My parents died snorkeling when I was five. My little sister was two.
I wonder what they were thinking when they were carried out to sea by a rogue current. The officials said it was impossible. The bay was supposed to be completely safe. They were supposed to come home to add a new vibrant shell to their collection. I guess no one can account for all the logistics, all the tiny risks of life.
They would’ve loved seeing me audition for AWE. My grandparents hated the idea, just like they hated taking care of me.
“Time to get up, sleepy Kaden!” Corrin slaps my arm and I groan, wondering how the minutes could feel like seconds.
Armani Bera arrives, looking exactly the same as she did a few hours ago. Maybe even better, if that’s possible. I try not to admire her too much. She shows us a new song, one that we’ll use for our monthly evaluation.
“Now, guys,” she says, smiling like the idea of an evaluation should make us excited. “You’ll be graded on multiple things in this evaluation. Dance is a huge part of it. Let’s try to prepare something that the execs will love.”
Armani launches into a sequence that lasts a full minute, twisting and hitting every beat as if punching someone in the face. She flips her hair like a pro, using each of her limbs as if she merely presses a button to control them.
“We’ll go slowly,” she says after finishing—not even breathing hard.
I take the center position, following Armani as she counts to eight and shows us each step with clarity. As she increases the speed, I lose myself in a time loop as we repeat section after section. I think about solving the same simple math problem over and over again, except this equation runs far from simple. I think about how the repetition is necessary, how I'll move in the same way millions of more times.
Sweat runs down my back, and the lights of the studio imprint into my eyes and the mirror. Armani cheers us on and corrects us when necessary, shouting with so much energy I would be surprised if she didn’t have more than one coffee today.
“I want to get to know you guys better,” Armani says, once we sit down for a break. “I think we’ve had enough dancing for today, so I want to ask why you guys were put into a group.”
I exchange glances with the members. I speak up. “It was CEO Kim’s decision ultimately. I wish we could say that we chose each other, but we didn’t.”
“That’s not completely true,” Armani says. “You chose each other by sticking together, by spending this month making sure you all have the same dream. That counts for something.”
“I guess….” I turn to other guys.
Seiya, the second oldest, clears his throat. “I like looking at it that way, Armani. That's sick.”
Armani dazzles me with her smile. “How do you guys like it so far?”
“Besides being formed as a group early on,” I start. “It’s been hard. The other trainees seem to target us, and our training schedules all got more intense.”
It’ll only get harder, a voice says. I look around, wondering who said it. The boys also look confused, their eyes darting left and right. I look at Van and see a bead of sweat form at his throat.
Armani seems oblivious. She takes out a hair band, reaching forward and touching David’s hair. She ties a lock of it with the band, so that it sticks upward. “I always wanted to do that,” she says.
Waiting for the voice to come back, I don’t dare bring it up. Maybe bringing it up would make it come back in full force. Today definitely was the weirdest day. I come up with one conclusion—more sleep will be our definite cure.
“I heard you guys are getting a new language instructor too,” Armani says. “He’s a polyglot, and he can teach you guys multiple languages that you’ll need to tour the world.”
“That would be helpful,” I say.
“Exciting!” Corrin says.
The clock strikes nine pm, and Armani takes her leave. I glance at David, who still has the tie in his hair. He looks ridiculous. “Are you going to take that out?”
“You know I look pretty great,” David says. “I should keep this thing in all the time. It could be my signature look, and everyone will copy me.”
“Weirdo,” I say, and everyone laughs. David pouts.
“You guys heard that weird voice too, right?” Seiya says. “That shit was crazy. I just want to make sure we aren’t hallucinating.”
“I definitely heard it,” I say. “If these weird happenings continue until tomorrow, we’ll do something about it.”
“Agreed,” Van says. “It’s time to meet the polyglot.”
I wonder how this new instructor will look at us, whether he’ll also contribute to the strangeness of the day. Whoever it may be, CEO Kim only hires geniuses—I know I won’t be disappointed.