Paper Dolls

Chapter 6

"Again."

A stab of irritation flashes through me but I ignore it and repeat my verse, my words coming out as naturally as breathing.

"Boy, you know I can't decide. You're just too fine. Aged sweet like wine-," I pause when I see the same unimpressed expression on my rap coach's face. Her eyebrows pinch together, gaze steady but slightly bored as she stares up at me. 

"Is there something I'm doing wrong?" I ask in a small uncertain voice and the silence that ensues makes my heart still. 

This is the song that I'll be performing for my evaluation, the deciding factor on whether I will be able to perform with Viva or risk elimination. If I'm kicked out these entire four years would be for nothing. 

I've practiced these words inside out, twisted and turned them around in my head and on my tongue more times I can count. In the ten times that I've performed this song today, I've never misspelled or forgotten a verse or word. 

I sing the notes on time and in tune. I don't understand why Ms. Noh looks like I've just told her her cat died. 

"Do you really not know the answer to that?" Ms Noh sighs and my nails dig into my palms because I do not know which is obviously why I asked. 

Ms. Noh stands up and paces the small practice room slowly. Her three inch heels click against the smooth wooden floor and she leans against the plain beige wall across from me. 

"Jina. In the four years that you have been here, I've seen you practice every verse to perfection. Rehearse till the wee hours of the night making sure every line you sing or rap is perfect. You have a good voice and you're a hardworking girl. I'll give you that." 

I wait patiently for her to deliver the blow which is always followed by kind, blanketed words like these. Sure enough she doesn't disappoint. 

"But your performances have no feeling. They're good but not great. It's like I'm listening to a robot. Boring and forgettable."

Ouch. 

She must see the visible pain on my face because she gestures for us to sit and places a hand on my shoulder. 

"Trust me dear. All the talent and hard work in the world will not help you if you cannot engage with your audience." Ms Noh squeezes my shoulder and then she releases and leans back. "Tell me who's your favourite idol? Who's performance have you seen that filled you with so much emotion? Has someones song ever brought tears to your eyes?" 

The answer is almost too easy, I don't even have to think before it slips out of my mouth. "Dalia." 

Ms Noh lets out a low whistle. "Yes, that girl was one hell of a performer." 

Was. She used the word was and it still doesn't feel real that Dalia is dead even though I've had days to come to terms with it. 

"Yeah," I murmur absentmindedly, thinking about the girl who's success became my driving force these past four years. The girl I looked up to growing up, the person who gave me the courage to dream. 

Everyone still talks about her suicide but the note I received remains intact, faded and crumpled in my pocket. 

A hope I refuse to believe in yet can't seem to let go of.

"Try to pick up on her performances. How did she sound? How did she execute her lines. Make her your role model if you have to. Just don't go too far like she did," Ms Noh says and then she sighs theatrically. "Such a waste."

It was in that briefest of seconds that I gave in to that hope. A part of me truly believed that she did not do that to herself. That she was in her prime and she was only going to achieve greater things. That someone had taken it all away from her.