The morning sun was cold and sharp as Maya Chen stepped off the bus in downtown Detroit. She was nineteen years old, small in height, and wearing a dress she had bought from a thrift store for $3. The dress was blue with tiny white flowers, and it had a small tear near the bottom that she had fixed with a needle and thread the night before. Her black shoes were old but clean; she had polished them with a cloth until they looked almost new.
In her hands, she carried a folder. The folder was brown and worn at the edges. Inside were sheets of music, some of them held together with tape because they had been used so many times. Maya held the folder close to her chest as she walked down the street toward a large building made of gray stone.
This building was the Harrison Academy of Music. It was one of the most famous music schools in the entire country. Students came from all over the world to study here. The teachers were some of the best pianists, violinists, and composers alive. And today, the Academy was holding an open audition.
Anyone could come and play. Anyone could try to win a place at this great school.
Maya had seen the notice three weeks ago. It was pinned to a board at the public library where she sometimes went to read books about music. When she saw it, her heart began to beat fast. She read the notice five times: Open audition. All instruments welcome. Scholarships available for exceptional talent.
She had thought about it for days. She had almost decided not to come. Who was she to walk into a place like this? She had no formal training. She had no teacher. She had no expensive piano at home. But something inside her would not let the idea go. A small voice kept saying, "What if? What if this is your chance? What if you never get another one?"
So, here she was, standing in front of the Academy, looking up at its tall windows and heavy wooden doors. Other people were walking inside. Maya watched them. They looked different from her: they wore nice clothes; they carried instrument cases that looked brand-new; they walked with confidence, like they belonged here.
Maya did not feel like she belonged. But she took a deep breath and walked through the doors anyway.
Inside, the Academy was beautiful. The floors were made of polished wood. The walls were covered with paintings of famous musicians. There were chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, and the light they gave was soft and golden. Maya had never been in a place like this before.
A woman sat behind a desk near the entrance. She had gray hair and glasses, and she looked at Maya with a small frown.
"Can I help you?" the woman asked.
"I am here for the audition," Maya said. Her voice came out quieter than she wanted.
The woman looked at her for a moment. Her eyes moved from Maya's old dress to her worn folder, to her polished but clearly old shoes. "Name?" the woman asked.