But another voice—a deeper voice—said something else. It said: No.
No. She had not come all this way to give up after half a minute. She had not spent three years practicing on cardboard keyboards and borrowed pianos just to be told to join a community choir. She had not carried her father's dream in her heart all this time just to let it die in this room.
Maya did not stand up. She did not walk away. She stayed on the bench.
Dr. Holloway was already looking at his papers, ready to call the next person.
"Excuse me," Maya said.
He looked up, surprised. "Yes?"
"I would like to play more."
Dr. Holloway frowned. "I told you we have heard enough."
"You heard thirty seconds," Maya said. Her voice was quiet but steady. "You heard me make one mistake on a piano I have never touched before. You did not hear what I can really do."
The room was very quiet. The other judges were staring at her now.
Dr. Holloway's frown deepened. "Young lady," he said. "We have many more people to see today. We cannot spend extra time on every candidate who thinks they deserve a second chance."
"I am not asking for a second chance," Maya said. "I am asking for a first one. A real one. Sixty seconds. That is all. Give me sixty seconds to show you what I can do. If you still think I am not good enough after that, I will leave and never bother you again."
Dr. Holloway stared at her. For a long moment, no one spoke. Maya could hear her own heart beating in her chest.