Chapter 24 The Starring Role
The Starring Role
The day of my audition for the right of spring the dressing room felt awfully suffocating.
As if the air had weighed in sync to my own anxiety.
It was supposed to be the start of something new but instead all I could think about was a stupid commented passed to me on my way inside by a classmate of mine, Gillespie.
“Do you really think they’ll really let you lead? This is a ballet, not a cultural festival and even if they do you’ll just be the token diversity hire.”
I know it wasn’t something I should linger on, and yet I couldn’t stop hearing his voice radiating through my skin and infiltrating my mind like a cruel reminder that I would never truly fit in here.
It was a splinter under my skin. I had worked hard for this harder than most. It wasn’t daddy‘s money, political influence, or any kind of manipulation that got me into Julliard. For my brother and I was nothing but effort and determination nothing but tireless sleepless nights, even when our hearts were heavy, it was afternoons spent at immigration, making sure our documents were up-to-date so we didn’t give them any reasons to doubt us any more than they already did.
I dedicated everything to this audition, but now, in the silence of the dressing room, the weight of doubt was even heavier, suffocating the confidence I fought so hard to build.
My makeup was flawless, costume pristine but I felt like I was standing on a ledge. I tried to reach for my phone and ring my mother but she didn’t answer it just kept ringing.
“Mum pick up please…” I pleaded much to my disappointment.
A knock on the door startled me, I glanced up to see Remi standing in the doorway. She wasn’t the kind of girl who was good at dealing with her own turbulent emotions let alone that of others and yet she was here nevertheless.
“Are you okay?” She asked stepping inside.
I didn’t answer with words but I shook my head in refusal. “You know I’m no good at this but I’ll sit with you as long as you want, or call someone?”
“No.” I finally refused choking down every negative emotion.
“Yesoh come on please.” She insisted, “Then you have to tell me what happened at least?”
Remi‘s brow furrowed she didn’t question me. Without saying another word she took my phone and dialed Wynter’s number. I grabbed the phone back from her and tried my best to remedy the situation before he actually decided to show up.
ME: You don’t have to come it’s nothing really
Wyn: Is that so?
ME: Yeah just a stupid comment I shouldn’t have let get to me. I’m used to it anyway.
Wyn: what kind of comment?”
ME: it doesn’t matter.
Wyn: it matters to me, now tell what they said to you.
Wyn: now.
ME: This Gillespie guy in my class passed by me and said that I shouldn’t audition because the right of spring is a ballet not a cultural festival.
Wyn: Stay where you are, I’ll come find you.
ME: I can handle this on my own, I've been handling it on my own.
Wyn: Well thank God you don't have to anymore. Don't you know Yesoh, that I'll always come find you?
Oh.
Remi stayed with me until Wynter showed up within minutes. One moment, I was still crumpled in the corner, and the next, he was standing in the doorway, his tall frame filling the space like a calm in the middle of a storm.
“Didn’t you have a class to mentor?” I asked,
“How am I to be concerned with that when you’re in distress?” He sighed out of breath almost as if he’d raced over here.
“Wyn-” I attempted to refute
“Hey,” he said, his voice like soft gravel.
He didn’t come rushing in; he just stood there, waiting for me to meet his gaze.
When I did, his eyes softened, almost unreadable.
“I’m so sorry you had to find out the harsh realities of the performing arts world in this way, it isn’t often kind to people like you and me. ”
I couldn’t hold it in anymore. My chest tightened, and the dam finally broke. I shook my head, tears slipping from my eyes. I couldn’t even find the words. I was exhausted and sick of feeling like an outsider.
Wynter moved closer, sitting down beside me on the floor, his presence steady and comforting. His hand, warm and firm, found mine, offering that unspoken promise of I’m here. He didn’t say anything for a long time—just let me cry it out.
“Does it ever stop?” I questioned sniffling, “Will they ever make room for me here?”
“You don’t give them the power to decide whether or not you belong here, you don’t wait for them to make room for you, because the truth is that the performing arts industry is structured in a way that is intended to keep people of color out.
If we all decided to spend our time, hoping and praying to whatever God willing to hear us for acceptance, we would be waiting a millennia.
You don’t ask them to open the door, hell you don’t even knock – Yesoh darling I want you to kick that bloody door down and make them see you.
” He spoke, his icy eyes burning with the kind of passion and determination that was almost otherworldly.
“Okay.” I nodded as he wiped my tears away.
“When I first started skating, they pressured my parents to change my last name on the papers because they thought it would disadvantage me. They argued that because of how I looked that no one had to know I was half South Korean if I didn’t tell them explicitly.
And you know what I did that day? I wrote my last name first and in capital letters.
Because for lack of better terminology, fuck that.
” he cursed and while my heart wrenched for his younger self I let out a soft laugh and so did he.
“They’re such losers,” I said quietly.
Then, in that quiet voice of his, he spoke, so gentle, so sure. “Exactly and why would you bother appeasing losers? You’ve worked too hard for this. You’ve earned this moment. Don’t let someone else’s ignorance steal it from you.”
I clenched my fists at my sides, fighting the urge to scream, to let the floodgates open even more. But his words held me steady. Slowly, like the first rays of light after a storm, his voice broke through the panic.
“You don’t have to do it alone,” he added softly, his thumb brushing the back of my hand, a simple motion that grounded me in ways I couldn’t explain.
I nodded, trying to breathe. “But what if—what if I’m not good enough?”
Wynter shook his head. “Don’t you dare think that. You’re more than enough.”
And for the first time all day, I believed it again.
Wynter reached beside me and grabbed a hold of my makeup set and gently touched up my concealer, dabbing gently under my eyes. “Look up.” He spoke as he glittered my eyelids and replaced the fallen mascara. “You’ve got this Soh, I believe in you.”
The auditorium was quiet. When I stepped backstage, I took a deep breath, and once the music started playing, I made my way onto the stage, it was mine.
The curtain rose, and the whole world disappeared.
I moved gracefully to the sound of the music, I became the performance and the performance became me.
I was steady and unshaken my gaze met Wynter’s in the waiting, his eyes pinned on me guiding me through it.
And when the final note rang out, I struck the last pose.
I felt like I had left a part of myself on that stage, raw and exposed yet somehow triumphant.
The applause came in a roar and sea of approval, and I stood there, breathing hard, but smiling.
I claimed the stage that day, and I would never ask for approval ever again.
After that Wynter stormed into the dean’s office as we detailed my account of what happened with Gillespie, and when he was met with apathy, he threatened to go to the media with the story and withdraw his services to the Institute.
That’s certainly got their attention because Julliard didn’t need bad press, especially from one of the biggest names in the industry.
They assured me that it would not happen again, and that Gillespie would be dealt with.
“I don’t want him dealt with I want him gone.” I clarified stepping in front of Wynter. “Gone.”
“What?” The dean questioned, “That’s asking too—”
“You heard her, that ignorant bastard should never be able to walk these halls again or so help me God this story will be on the front page of every newspaper in New York City before the clock strikes midnight.” Wynter placed both his hands on the oak desk, his eyes aflame with anger I hadn’t seen before.
“If you try to silence her voice I’ll ensure she has the power to amplify it across the world. ”
And at that I gather from the look on the dean's face that we had somehow reached a common understanding, Gillespie would be gone.
Later, as the sun began to set Wynter Sydney and Jax and I took a stroll to a nearby park, the city was bursting with fall.
Autumn leaves crunching beneath our feet.
Couples holding hands and joggers rush past us, along with the brisk wind that made us hold onto our jackets.
It was peaceful in New York sort of way. Which was a rarity.
We wandered down a path to a small café, tucked at the edge of the park. It’s windows fogged from the warmth inside. It was much warmer there, and the chatter of people and the soft clink of mugs engulfed our senses, along with the scent of coffee.
I could feel the chill of the outside world slip away as I stood there, eyes scanning the chalkboard menu.
“What’s your go-to?” I asked, turning to the others.
“I’ll take a caramel latte,” said Jax, his hands already stuffed into his pockets, looking out the window.
Sydney nodded in agreement. “Same for me.”
I hesitated, then pointed to a steaming cup behind the counter. “I’ll go with the spiced pumpkin chai,” I said, the autumn flavours tempting me.
Wynter, who had been quiet, just smiled. “Black coffee. Strong. Like always.”
“You were amazing, Yesoh,” Sydney said, her voice full of admiration. “You deserve lead more than anyone I know, you’ll get it I know you will.”
“Same here,” Jax chimed in, nudging me playfully. “We’ve seen you work too hard for this to be a surprise, I know you’ll get lead and that Gillespie prick can’t buy his way out of this one.”
I smiled, feeling the weight of their words settle inside me, a warmth that felt like a homecoming after a long storm. “Thanks,”
“You don’t need anyone to hold you up,” Wynter said quietly, his voice calm as ever. “But I’m glad we could be here with you.”
I looked at him, my stomach flipping for a reason I didn’t want to admit. His eyes met mine, steady and unflinching, and I couldn’t help but feel something shift between us.
After we finished our crepes, the four of us made our way to the nearby ice rink. “Just for fun,” I said, trying to keep the mood light, though something lingered in the air, unspoken.
Sydney and I giggled skating around the ice trying to race each other back and forth as Jax struggled to balance— it was hilarious considering the fact that I’d been there before and knew it wasn’t easy. It was nice to spend time with my friends away from the hustle and bustle of the school.
Once Sydney and Jax had left Wynter stepped onto the ice, his movements easy, fluid, like he belonged there. He moved across the rink to me with ease, but he didn’t seem to be skating for anyone else. I leaned against the railing, watching him, feeling the pulse of something between us.
“Wynter,” I called, my voice louder than I intended.
He paused, glancing back at me with that unreadable look.
“Hm?” He wondered,
“Can I ask you to do something, just for me?” I questioned and an immediate flush caught his neck.
“What is it?” He swallowed towering over me like my very own ice prince.
“I want you to skate,” I said, my words quiet, but somehow demanding.
He raised an eyebrow, his mouth opening and closing almost as if he was unsure what to say, “What? I always skate?”
“Just for me,” I repeated, stepping closer to the edge of the rink, my breath catching in my throat.
For a moment, he didn’t move. His eyes searched mine, and I felt that tension, thick and heavy, winding its way between us.
“I—” he started, but stopped, as if considering something. The words seemed to hang in the air, unspoken, between us.
“Please, I’m asking ever so nicely.” I smiled circling around him brushing my fingers on his shoulder.
He glanced down at the ice, then back at me, his expression a mix of nervousness and something else, something I couldn’t name— something that mirrored desire. I skated backwards and cleared the rink for him to perform, just for me.