“Morgan, play Moonlight Sonata again.” Mr. Burrows never bothered with words like “please” that made his speech sound softer. No, Mr. Burrows always told me clearly what to do.
    
I obey him, though usually I want to disobey him until he kicks me out of his piano lessons. But then I would feel bad because Mom spent a lot of money on these piano lessons, so I kept going with Mr. Burrows, even though he made me want to cry sometimes.
    
Moonlight Sonata was one of my favorite pieces, so I keep on perfecting it, even though it sometimes got a little boring and I could tell Mr. Burrows was ready to move on.
    I can almost feel myself fading into the music—almost—when Mr. Burrows’s knife-like voice cuts into me and pulls me back to reality. “Softer, Morgan!” This annoys me—my fingers are already dancing lightly across the keys. However, instead of protesting, I move my fingers as lightly as possible while still making sound and keeping up the tempo.

    
After my lesson is over, a boy I only recognize from his having the lesson after mine comes over to me from examining a guitar in the main store. He acts like he’s been wanting to do this for a while, but only just now has gathered up the courage.
    
“Hi,” he says. “I listen to your music when I’m early for my lesson. It’s beautiful, and I keep the songs in my head all week. My parents—my parents got divorced recently, and sometimes I feel like your music is the only thing that can give me comfort.”
    
Mr. Burrows appears in the doorway, and the boy waves. “Bye.”
    
I walk out the front door to the music store. I’m smiling. I’m grateful that I could help this boy I barely knew through only my music.