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My lip quivers, but I don’t cry. I’mnotgoing to let Bora see me break down onstage.

“Are you just going to keep sitting there and let her talk for you, Park?” Gary asks. “Jesus, I thought you were better than this.”

Mr. Park slowly sits up, as if breaking out of some deep train of thought. “Please calm down, Gary. Perhaps you are too American to understand our decision, but I’m afraid this is a decision that Miss Jang and I have both made.”

The producer then stares directly at me, and he actually looks sad as he says, “I apologize, Miss Shin. But I do wish you luck on the other half of the competition. Like I’ve said multiple times, you are clearly talented, and it’d be such a shame to completely lose you so early.”

I can’t tell if Mr. Park means his words as a threat or as an encouragement. Maybe they’re a little bit of both. But the message is clear.Don’t get yourself eliminated for both.

And I can’t help it. Even though I know I’ll be letting thousands of viewers down, I worked way too hard to completely let go of my chances at this competition now.

I clench my fists and bow first at Mr. Park and then at Gary, who still looks like he’s about to walk out of the room. I skip Bora, because, duh.

“Thank you. I’ll see you at our next practice.”

Mr. Park gives me a firm nod.

Davey walks over to usher us offstage. Henry puts up a fight at first, but sadly falls limp when he sees that I’m not resisting. I don’t meet his eyes. I can’t. Not after I didn’t say anything to defend myself.

Once we’re backstage, Imani and Tiffany pounce on us, much to the chagrin of the stage manager. I can tell from her annoyed expression that they’re not supposed to be out here.

“I can’t believe the judges just did that!” Tiffany exclaims.

“Oh my gosh, Skye,” says Imani. “Are you okay?”

By then, I’m barely holding it together. But somehow, I manage, mostly because of the cameras that have gathered around us. They already caught me in one compromised situation today. I don’t want to let them witness another one.

“Excuse me,” the stage manager says before I can think of what to say. “Please only stay here if you haven’t performed yet. Everyone else has to leave.”

“I’m gonna go,” I say. “I’ll talk to you guys later.”

“Wait.” Henry grabs my arm before I can turn around. “Let me go with you. I’ll give you a ride back home.”

It only hits me then that I don’t have a ride back home without Lana or Tiffany. That’s how out of it I am.

“Okay,” I say. “Thanks.”

I follow Henry out to the parking lot, where Portia and Steve are waiting in the SUV. As soon as we’re in the privacy of the back seat, Henry places a hand on my shoulder and asks, “Hey, you want to talk about what happened? Or, I don’t know, do you want to grab a bite to eat before we drop you off? Youdidn’t have time to eat between the two rounds, right? You must be starving.”

As if on cue, my stomach growls, and I only then remember that I haven’t eaten anything since this morning. But I don’t feel like eating.

Maybe Bora’s right.The thought comes into my head before I can stop it.Maybe I should try to lose weight again.

Tears well up in my eyes as I think about the years I spent hating myself and my body. Entire days and even weeks went by when I barely ate anything, until I didn’t even feel hungry anymore. I did lose a few pounds, but it was only a few compared to the crushing amounts of emotional pain I felt. No matter how much I worked out and no matter how little I ate, it was never enough. Do I really want to go back to living like that? Is there even hope for me in this industrywithoutit? Sure, Bora is just one person. But there are probably countless like-minded people in the business. After all, she managed to get Mr. Park on her side.

I wonder if I should just give up now.

“Hey,” Henry tries again. “Let’s go to In-N-Out. Or, I don’t know, anywhere else you want. You don’t look well. You should eat something. I’m pretty hungry too.”

And that’s all it takes for me to completely lose it. Ugly sobs force their way out of my chest. I’m so ashamed that I almost let Bora think I wasn’t good enough, that I almost let her win. I think about the posters I saw in the audience today, about all the posts on social media, and about what Lana said aboutme being an inspiration to the people watching me on TV. I feel like a big phony, and today, I feel like I let all those people down.

Without hesitation, Henry pulls me tight into his arms.

His grip is firm but gentle, and his body heat is so comforting that part of me wishes I could stay in his arms forever. But I get ahold of myself and pull away. When I do, large, wet puddles of snot and tears stain the gray fabric of his tank top. I’m so embarrassed that I cry even harder.

“Sorry,” I say in between my sobs. “I made a mess of your shirt.”

“No, no,” says Henry. “Don’t apologize. It’s just a shirt. I may be a model, but I’m notthatsuperficial.”