Excerpt from Tailbone by Che Yeun, plus links to reviews, author biography & more

I wasn't sure how I would fill my whole day. I dressed to go outside.

The other girls had already left, or maybe they were sleeping in their rooms, who knew? I could only see the cigarette butts they had tossed all over our stairwell.

Just before I went out the front door, I passed the row of rusted mailboxes in the narrow entryway. The bits of name tags that had yellowed and faded, even in a sunless corridor. Out of the nine rooms, only five were occupied. Four mailboxes were stuffed full of flyers and ads, clumps of glossy paper that wouldn't budge even when I tugged at them.

I pulled harder. A few pages fell out. All the flyers promised to put you in touch with other people—private loan managers, realtors, pizza shops, prostitutes, Chinese noodle shops, massage therapists, car sellers, car buyers, people who would pay money for your gold teeth or your old defunct electronics and musical instruments and kitchen knives.

One flyer was for a vocational school. They specialized in training students for jobs in the aviation industry: as airplane mechanics, as airport security officers, and as flight attendants. The model on the flyer was dressed in the same ivory uniform as the ladies I'd seen all summer.

I called the number. After a few short rings, a bubbly introduction

greeted me.

"Thank you for calling the Pacific Aviation School, the number-one trusted training program of the aviation industry. How can we assist you today?"

She spoke so fast that it made me stutter. "How much is the flight attendant program?"

"The new year is already underway," the voice replied. "Shall we register you for next year? We can also put you on the waiting list for the second half of this year. There are always some spots that open up."

"How much is it?"

"We have a number of scholarships available for students who show exceptional potential. Registration ends in three weeks. We recommend registering as soon as possible, as spaces fill up quickly."

"And the tuition?"

The woman paused. "Please come by our main office," was all she gave me. "We'd be happy to give you the introductory tour of our facilities and connect you to our extremely successful graduates who have reached the interview step with all major airlines at a remarkable rate of one hundred percent. We provide a free headshot photoshoot in one of our coveted trainee uniforms, just for participating in our campus tour."

She droned on about the in-flight simulator and the cabin replica we'd use for our practicum, the various language courses offered so that we could apply for positions at airlines from all over the world, the new course on deescalating terrorist attacks, which was the first of its kind in Korea. We'd also learn to taste and pour wine properly in order to adequately serve VIP clientele. We'd even get referrals to the best clinics for affordable braces and cosmetic surgery.

"Other places will rip your face apart and stitch it back together like a monster," she chirped. "Our expert physicians only enhance the beauty that's already there, which employers much prefer."

I signed up for a campus tour. "Any spots left for today?" I asked.

"We're delighted to offer you a tour tomorrow."

In the meantime, I'd have to get through this one. From my window I watched the summer swell one last time. It bloated the alley with rain. Men rushed to work, their nice shoes and pantlegs splashed and drenched. They trashed their umbrellas in the middle of the street when the spokes snapped in the wind. Soon the monsoons would pass, the mugginess would recede, and I would have to shut my window to keep out the cold.

My phone chimed.

Where are you daughter?

I turned off the ringer. But the screen kept lighting up.

Tell me where you are. Tell me before I run out and turn the whole country upside down

im ok, I finally replied. that's all im going to tell you

Excerpted from Tailbone by Che Yeun. Copyright © 2026 by Che Yeun. Excerpted by permission of Bloomsbury Publishing. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.