But there was one thing that made Alyssa different—one thing that Madison and people like her could never take away: music.
Since she was a little girl, Alyssa had loved the sound of the piano. While other kids played with dolls or watched cartoons, she would sit for hours at the local church's old piano, letting her tiny fingers glide over the worn keys. She had no teacher, no new music books, but that didn't stop her from learning. She listened to Debussy, Beethoven, and Chopin on her old phone and tried to play them with her own hands. She practiced with all her heart, borrowing music books from the library and studying every note. She didn't just play the piano; she lived in music.
But at Willow Ridge, her dream had no place. The piano was a subject for the elite. Kids like Madison had the best teachers hired by their parents, practicing on expensive grand pianos. And Alyssa? She could only quietly play in the corner of the church when no one was around, and she had never dared to play in front of others.
But all of that was about to change in just one moment.
That day, Richard Grayson, the school's music teacher, announced that students would be required to perform an impromptu piano piece during class. "I want to see you express emotion through music, not just play pieces you've memorized," his voice was dry and stern.
Madison, with her smug look, would obviously be the center of attention. She had been playing piano since she was three and had performed at major school events. Alyssa did not want to participate, but Mr. Grayson didn't let her escape.