Most of the girls wave back, then start mingling with the other groups we’ll be competing against, but Mina and Lizzie just stare at Leah with tight-lipped smiles. I pull Leah aside and start to ask about her flight over, but then Lizzie mutters loud enough for us to hear, “Did you see the way she bowed to us? That was barely even a bow.”

“Yep,” Mina says. “She’s a year younger than Sunhee too. She really doesn’t know how to respect her sunbaes.”

This happens every time Leah interacts with Girls Forever. It’s no secret that some of the girls resent how quickly Leah was able to get into DB and debut, especially when some of them have been hoping to get their own sisters on the same track. Lizzie’s sister is only a year younger than Lizzie, and Lizzie’s been trying to get her into DB for years, but for some reason or another, DB won’t sign her.

Leah just smiles and rolls her eyes at me, showing that Lizzie and Mina’s comments haven’t fazed her.

“Did you remember to put on sunscreen?” I ask her.

“Trust me, after that one family trip to Haeundae Beach, I’ll never forget again.” She makes a face.

“Red as a lobster,” we say together in Umma’s signature concerned tone.

“We were just talking about that trip the other night,” Leah says. “Umma picked up fish cakes for dinner. They were good, but not Busan-level good. I still dream about those ones we got at Haeundae Beach.”

When Leah debuted, I made her agree to live at home with Umma and Appa instead of moving in with her groupmates right away. She was even younger than I was when I debuted, and I wanted Leah to still get to be a kid—to have someone tuck her in when she’s sick, fuss over her when she’s stressed. Now, hearing her describe their cozy night at home, reminiscing about our favorite family vacation over yummy takeout, I feel a swirling mix of nostalgia, jealousy, and guilt. I never did manage to get over to their place for a visit. As I suspected, our post-tour schedule was packed with welcome-home appearances and recovery sessions with our vocal coaches and physical therapists. It felt like I had barely unpacked my bags, when suddenly I was packing them again to come here to Singapore. Of course, my parents said they understood, but I can always tell when they’re disappointed. Appa’s last text to me only featured two emojis—No problem, daughter. Hope to see you soon —instead of his customary dozen.

“Anyway,” Leah says, shaking me from my thoughts, “I better rejoin SayGO. Can’t let them think I’m fraternizing with the competition.”

I laugh and Leah gives me a wink before heading back to her own group.