I try to focus on the moves: Two steps, hair toss, spin. Shoulder move, clap! But my mind keeps drifting to Alex, and to my upcoming trip to Paris for Nell Kramer’s fashion show. I’m dreaming of France in early March, when the air is still brisk enough for thick sweaters and cute scarves, but pleasant enough to enjoy outdoor cafés. But for the next two weeks, it’s still freezing-cold February in Korea, and we’re in a wake-up-at-the-crack-of-dawn and go-home-past-midnight schedule to prepare.

“Again, girls! From the top!” the choreographer shouts. We groan under our breath and find our way to the opening formation. If we don’t want to be here all night, we’re going to need to step it up. I clear my mind of everything but me and the song and dancing to the beat.

Finally, once we’ve flawlessly nailed the choreo more times than I can count, the trainer calls it a night. But before I can even change out of my sweaty clothes, I get called into Mr. Han’s office. Confused, I make my way down the halls, retying my hair into a smooth high pony as I go. What could Mr. Han possibly have to see me about? He wouldn’t call a meeting just to yell at me for being late on the shimmy move in the second verse, would he?

I knock on the door. “Come in,” his voice calls.

As soon as I enter, I see that Leah is there too. We exchange glances and she gives me a quick shrug. She doesn’t know why we’re here either. Uh-oh. My stomach knots. Are we in trouble for sneaking out on our last day in Singapore? Does he know that I hung out with a friend named Alex who turned out to be a guy? That was nearly a week ago by now, but you never know with DB. They could have been using this time to mull over the perfect punishment. I’m already prepping my defense, blaming the potential for confusion with unisex names, but luckily, Mr. Han doesn’t look mad. He looks excited.

“I’m glad I’ve caught you both. Sit, sit,” he says, gesturing to the gray swivel chair next to Leah. I take a seat, tightening my ponytail and folding my hands in my lap.