"Fine," the manager said with a mean smile. "You can play the piano, but only for five minutes. And if you're terrible, you leave immediately. No food, nothing."
Maya nodded quickly. "Thank you," she said.
The manager walked over to the piano. He moved the coats off of it and opened the lid. The piano keys were yellow and some of them had chips in them, but Maya could see that it was still a good piano.
"Ladies and gentlemen," the manager announced loudly, "we have special entertainment tonight. This young lady is going to play piano for us."
People clapped, but not in a nice way. They were clapping like they expected her to fail. They were clapping like they thought it would be funny to watch her make a fool of herself.
Maya walked slowly to the piano. Her legs felt weak. Everyone was staring at her; she could hear people whispering. Someone laughed.
She sat down on the piano bench. It felt good to sit down; she had been walking all day. The bench was soft and comfortable, so different from the hard ground where she usually slept.
Maya looked at the piano keys. They were like old friends. She had not played piano in months—not since she lost her home, not since she had to sell her mother's piano to buy food. She put her hands on the keys, but did not press them yet.
She closed her eyes and remembered her father's voice. He used to say, "Music comes from your heart, Maya. Let your heart speak through your fingers."
Maya opened her eyes. She looked around the restaurant one more time. Everyone was watching her. Some people had their phones out to record her; they probably wanted to post videos of the homeless girl trying to play piano.
Maya took a deep breath. Her father had always told her to be brave. He said that music could change people's hearts; he said that music was the most powerful thing in the world.
Maya put her fingers on the keys and began to play.