The Story of A Pianist

Tik-tok-tik-tok. I lay awake on my bed as I waited for my alarm clock to ring. Today is the first day of my senior year in high school. The year is 2024 and I am mostly just an ordinary seventeen year old girl. I have long charcoal black hair to match my eyes. I have my ups and downs in life like a normal person, too. Riiiiiiiinnnng! My alarm clock finally rang. It’s time for me to get up at six-thirty in the morning and follow my normal routine. Except with school in the middle. Usually, during the summer, I would go to the library, practice with the band and read manga. I guess I’m not a completely ordinary girl though. For one thing, I live in an apartment right next door to my piano teacher and fellow band member. The rest of my family lives forty minutes away in a town you will never find on a map. This place where I used to live, it’s called Berziesburg. To be honest, I don’t go to a normal public school either. I go to a school called R.O.A.R University. It is for anyone who needs a flexible schedule to finish their education. For me, this was a good school. I can come in three days a week and do group work. Then The rest of the week I can homeschool. I enjoy this program because I moved to Manhattan when I was twelve and have been a part of a music band ever since. The opportunity to get my work done fast on my off days is precious. In my free time, I can be found doing one of the following; playing the guitar and the piano, practicing with my band, or working at my part time job to pay for my living fees. I am ready for the day now. It’s seven a.m. I need to eat breakfast and pack lunch now. Believe it or not, even though I live in the city, some of the places I need to get to are really far away. The library is an hour’s walk away. My school is about forty-five minutes walk away. My job and the studio my band does music in luckily are only a five to fifteen minute’s walk away. The city really is a big place! After school ends today at three p.m I do one of two things; I will either go home and practice piano, or I will be at a club activity depending on what I sign up for this year. I’m off to school. I have a lot of friends at school, but no close ones. My closest friends are the five young women in the band. I am content at school though because I know that I graduate in approximately 185 days. Then I just have to get through college, major in Music and Fine Arts and become a professional musician who can play instruments, sing, and maybe even act. My name is Leizian Williams and I will become the best artist in the world!

As I signed in at R.O.A.R University’s info desk to re-register for the school year, Ms. Fall, the registration desk lady said, “Welcome back Lazy-ann Williams. I hope you won’t cause too much trouble in the Arts and Music room this year.” How rude! I had told Ms. Fall how my name is pronounced so many times, but she just doesn’t listen. It’s because she hates my style of Arts and Music. I kept all my anger in my head and said in my best calm voice, “Good Morning to you too Ms. Fall. My name is actually pronounced Lei-zahn Williams by the way. I hope you have a good day.” I gave her a forced smile, then I quickly finished signing in and proceeded to march off. The nerve of that woman! Ms. Fall was only two years my senior at the very young age of nineteen. She was only getting a volunteer job at R.O.A.R because she wanted to be a teacher and she came from a rich and entitled family. In my opinion, though, she would make a pretty bad teacher since she isn’t open to students’ opinions and dreams. A teacher is supposed to help nurture their students’ dreams until each and every one of them accomplishes it!

I marched right on to Principal Do’s office. When I entered he said, “Ah, Ms. Williams. You are here for this year’s locker number and schedule right?” “Yessir!” I exclaimed excitedly. He handed me a slip of paper to me and I excitedly read it.

Leizian Williams

Class of 2024-2025

7:25 a.m-Physical Education

8:30 a.m-Math

9:35 a.m-Language Arts

10:40 a.m-Science

11:45 a.m-Free Time or Foreign Language

12:50 p.m-Lunch

2:00 p.m-Social Studies

3:00 p.m/6:00 p.m-Extra Electives

After looking at my schedule, I left Mr. Do’s office and walked to the main hall to look at the languages I could learn this year. I decided I would try Japanese because I have been a big fan of anime for almost five years and I really wanted to know what the characters are saying without subtitles or dubbing. Then I walked to the Clubs Bulletin Board. The clubs available were the following; Computer Club, Track Club, Swim Club, Anime Club, Music Club, Cooking Club, Karate Club, and Acting Club. I wanted to try a lot of these but based on your age you can only pick a certain amount. 9th graders can choose one. 10th graders can choose two. 11th grades can choose four. 12th graders can choose five for each day of the week. Don’t even bother asking me why this is the way clubs worked because I don’t know. I decided I would do Anime Club on Mondays, Music Club on Tuesdays, and Acting Club on Wednesdays. Those were the days I am present at the school anyway. Like I said before, I need a flexible schedule. I’ve got to go to P.E now or I’ll be late for my first class of the day. I already know from last year that Mrs. Greeners, the P.E teacher, hates tardiness.

I am so excited! My first Anime Club is today! I wonder what kind of activities I’ll be doing! During my first year, I couldn’t participate in clubs because I was busy creating Youtube videos for a living. My second year was too busy because of the same reason. In my third year, I was too busy adjusting to an even busier schedule having added another part-time job of being a cashier at a fast-food restaurant. This is actually my first time in a club since 7th grade! In 8th grade, I was homeschooling myself, trying to adjust to my new life in Manhattan. As I entered a private room in the library where the club was supposed to be, I recognized someone. There were three other people in the club. One was my brother! The one I had thought I left in Berziesburg, New York. “Peter! What are you doing here! Last time we talked you were living in Canada, studying by Niagara Falls!” My fifteen-year-old brother said, “ I’m an exchange student only here to study for three months! I’ve just been so busy I forgot!” I furrowed my eyebrows and with a confused face asked, “How does someone end up in the same town as their older sister and forget to tell her that?” Everyone in the room shrugged and we laughed. Then a short girl only at the height of 4 foot 4 inches said, “Hello! I’m Ruby. I am the 11th grader and founder of the club!” A boy sitting in a spinny chair next to her snickered and said, “You’re in 11th grade, but you’re still 4 foot 5!” Ruby’s eyes narrowed and she hammered him on the head with her fist while saying, “Be quiet Tommy!” We all looked at each other and laughed. This will be a fun year.

It’s now a Thursday. My favorite day of the week. I finished my homeschool work and worked my part time job from noon to four. Now I’m heading to my friend, Frannie Itano’s house. She recently invented a big store in a warehouse and made enough money to purchase an extra add on to the warehouse. Now the band practices in the extra room. There are currently six people in the band, me being the youngest. The oldest member and founder of the band is Deanne Ito. She found me in Berziesburg five years ago as a completely bland, ordinary, brand new teen. Deanne brought me to Manhattan and made me into the pianist I am today. I currently have forty songs on my playlist.

When I got to the warehouse, I went to a teen working at the cash register and said, “Is Frannie Itano here yet?” The teen nodded and said, “Go on ahead to the back.” I nodded and headed to the extra soundproof room, all the while thinking, I’ve got to stop nodding so much. No normal person answers everything with a nod! When I entered the room I said to the other band members, “Hey guys, you won’t believe what happened today.” We didn’t need to really tell each other everything in words. I just summed up my day in one sentence and we began playing our music. The thing is, for musicians, you don’t need words to communicate your feelings about something. You just play a song. Music is my art. It’s my way of expressing my thoughts, feelings, and unspoken words. It’s like that for everyone who’s a part of the band. We pour our souls into our music.

I remember the first time I played my music in front of a crowd. At the time I was thirteen. I had only been a part of Deanne’s band for three months and I only knew fractions of three songs. I was scheduled to play the piano and sing with the band at their college’s annual talent show. I was the youngest, newest member of the band. The only person being closest to my age was three years older than me. As the curtain to the stage opened, bright lights flashed into my eyes. The stage lights prevented me from seeing anyone in the audience, but I could tell they were judging every second of our music. I was a nervous wreck that day, so we changed my song lyrics and piano notes to something simple. Here is what Deanne told me. “I had a friend just like you once. So nervous about her first performance.” Then she looked me straight in the eye and said, “Even if you forget what you are playing, trust your soul. Even if you forget the exact lyrics of the song, you still know the story the singer was trying to tell.” I nodded and made myself look calm on the outside, even though on the inside I was still a very nervous train wreck.

The first thing your music teacher will always tell you is, Make sure you don’t rush through the song. All that happens is a train wreck when you do that. Unfortunately, I did exactly that. The curtains opened. The blinding white stage lights blocked me from seeing anything but my electric keyboard. That was all I needed to see anyway. I had spent the past two months doing nothing but practice the song in my free time. That’s when it happened. I saw just one judging face in the audience. I panicked and began to rush ahead of the others. I completely forgot to even sing the song. In the end, we had to end our turn for performing early. I blamed myself. I had ruined the song. I did learn something that day though. The rush a musician, performer, or dancer feels on stage; it’s frightening at first glance, but you enjoy the feeling. I realized what all true artists believe. The show must go on. We live by that rule. We know that even when we are too nervous to realize what we are doing, our performance must continue. We are in charge. The audience doesn’t know the piece yet. We have the power of improvisation! That is the end of my story. That was when I realized I had to be a musician no matter what obstacles challenged me in life.

When we finished practicing, I remembered a poster board I had seen at school. It advertised a concert and was requesting the help of three other bands. I decided to tell the band about it. It would be fun to participate. We all love music anyway. “My school is hosting a local music competition and is asking for some bands or individuals to participate, can we join?” Deanne said, “Yeah. Just tell us when we have to perform, from now on we will meet every other day until the concert. I nodded and said, “We have three weeks to come up with something.” I paused then added, “Sorry for the last minute notice…” Deanne gently placed her fingers on her guitar and thought for a moment before saying, “Okay. We can work with that.” She turned so that everyone could see her face then said, “I’ll compose something tonight and text the sheet music to you guys. Practice every day. If you are available, come to my apartment to practice. I’m free every day after school hours.” We showed our comprehension and left to go home for the day.

On Friday I went to my small apartment living room and started practicing my part on my electric keyboard. At school that day I spent a lot of class playing the song on tabletop. If you aren’t aware, practicing on tabletop is just what it sounds like. You imagine playing the keys while actually just playing on the table or desk. I spent all of my time practicing. None of us in the band wanted to recreate what happened five years ago. Like I mentioned before, stage fright got the best of me. I’m not gonna let that happen this time! I will spend all my free time practicing so I can overcome my fright with all my confidence. Besides, the rush every performer feels on stage will distract me until our piece is over. I am aware this time around that Deanne is afraid to asign me a part where I come up with lyrics to sing. It’s because last time around, I messed up bad. The song conveyed too much emotion. I lost any pace and rhythm I had. The thing is, for an artist certain things are harder for them than most people. When it’s time to perform they have to know how to only show enough feeling. If they let their feelings overcome them, the performance gains the high risk of going downhill. That’s not good if you’re aiming to be a pro. So while music is a great way of letting off some steam, it can also be dangerous, in a way.

I stayed up late last night. I kind of regret that, even though I was practicing for the performance. At least it’s a Saturday. That means I can spend all day resting until 3:15 when I can go practice with Deanne. As I was passing by Central Park, I saw a grand piano sitting by the water fountain. I went to take a closer look because what true musician wouldn’t want to get up close to their instrument any time they can? When I got to the bench there was a sign that said anyone could come up and play a song. I began playing a song my older sister taught me. I don’t know what it’s called though because she never told me. When I finished, I saw someone familiar. They were one of the judges who would be at the music performance in a few weeks. I had met them twice before. The first when I performed for the first time. The second being when I went to a music convention with Deanne. They came up to me and shook my hand introducing themselves as Mr. Bart or Barf? Something thing like that; I can never remember. When I told him my name he said, “Oh! You must be one of the competitors in the performance this October!” I nodded eagerly. All my hopes were crushed when he said, “Well, I hope your band members can back you up because your music was absolutely horrible!” I was taken aback, to say the least. He was very rude, going about ruining my weekend mood. I pondered on it all that day. His comment just kept bothering me. Deanne must’ve noticed during practice because she asked me if something was wrong. My response was kind of immature according to me, but that’s just my opinion. “I’m fine… It’s just, I don’t think I should participate in the competition this time. I-I’m probably not good enough. I’ll just end up slowing you guys down from making it to the state championships.” I don’t even know if the State Championships is their goal, but Deanne gave me an intense stare that kind of scared me then roughly patted me on the back while reassuring me, “If you’re really not all that confident, go play for everyone who’ll lend an ear! If you can’t regain your confidence, feel free to drop out.” I was kind of surprised. Deanne knew how much being a pianist meant to me. I also knew that she had great expectations for me. Why stop all the sudden? On Monday I went to school ready to play for anyone who’d lend an ear. When it was free time, I went to my anime club friends and asked them to come and listen to a song in the piano room. This time I played a song we were taught in school during 8th grade. Tommy, the joking one, covered his ears and dramatically said, “Why must I listen to this mess of a song cruel world?” Ruby and Peter said it was the best music they’d ever heard. Apparently Ruby didn’t know I was a “Musician.” On Tuesday I had Music Club. I was in luck because today we would share a piece we composed with the group. When it was my turn, I played a 2.5 minute piece that I made over last summer break. I asked every one of the 15 people in the club how it was. The supervising teacher said it was amazing, but that’s just what some teachers do. Three people said it was the best they ever heard. Ten people said it was cool (not very specific if you ask me). Two people said it could use improvement. Wednesday was my last day I would commute to school for the week. The day finally came when I would play a song for Theatre Club. There are eighty kids in theatre club. Twenty were willing to hear my song. Ten said it was great (those people are some of my friends so…no comment) Ten had no reply. By Thursday I was absolutely sure I would drag down my band if I stayed in the performance with them. I decided I would sit the upcoming performance out. I wouldn’t ruin it like last time.

The end of the week finally rolled around and I went to practice with the band before telling them my final decision. All of them seemed to respect my choice. Deanne was going along with it and that still bothered me for an unknown reason though. We had become really close friends after she started teaching me piano, so I guess...her not lecturing me to continue kind of hurt. She had always encouraged me to keep going with the whole piano thing, even when I thought I could no longer follow my dream. She was there for me when I thought I could practice no more and I thought my fingers would fall off. We had become each other’s best friend. Closer than that, maybe even a bond like sisters.

On Monday, my anime club friends cornered me at my locker five minutes before the first class and questioned why I wasn’t performing in the competition that would lead to state competitions. I guess word got out to them that I originally planned to join. I wonder who told them though? Ruby exclaimed after she had me cornered, “You can’t just quit! That’s like me giving up on drawing and you know how much I love to draw manga! You’d be subjecting yourself to sadness for the rest of your life!” Peter agreed and said with a concerned voice, “You’ve wanted to be a pianist ever since middle school. If you give up on that dream now, you’d be throwing all those hours of practice, challenge, and tears in the garbage!” Even Tommy, who could usually care less about my dream said in a wise-ish, “You shouldn’t let others convince you to deter from your dream. It’s just their own insecurities showing when they judge you.” I nodded, but I didn’t believe them. I didn’t know it at the time, but there was a certain person who would inspire me to pursue my dream and make it a reality.

At the end of the week, I realized we had only one week before the performance. I would be backstage cheering on my friends. Then I’d tell them that I would no longer aim for the profession of a musician. That would be it. I would quit the band and pursue something more reasonable. Maybe a teacher, or a chef? Yeah. Something like that. After all, they do all say that artists make barely enough money to support themselves. At least I can make a future for myself like my mom always hoped. Thing is, ever since I left mom and moved to Manhattan, we haven’t been too close. She wanted me to stay in Berziesburg, where I would be “safe” and able to gain a steady job that would last a lifetime. My mom and I haven’t really talked since I left. It’s been five long years since we talked. None of us have been willing to forgive and forget; And, truth be told, it’s hard not having a mother during those crucial teenage years of your life. I blame myself. Now I’m nearing adulthood and beginning to wonder. What have I been doing with my life? I’m getting sidetracked, but remembering my mom makes me think I should visit her. A simple video call won’t do the trick or change anything. It has to be face to face.

I made a call to Mr. Do and told him I wouldn’t make it to school this week, but to post my homework on the e-bulletin board. The next thing I did was grab my bike, the only form of transportation I owned and began the trek to my old home, Berziesburg.

By car, the road trip was about 40 minutes. Unfortunately, by bike at full speed, the trip was an exhausting one and a half hours. Did I mention yet that I was going at an inhuman, exhaustingly tiring speed? I was pedaling my bike so fast my legs were starting to go numb. But it didn’t matter! I needed to get to my mother. I needed to forgive her and apologize. I might never get the chance if I give up now! The weather was bad that day and ten minutes to the end of my journey, it began to storm real bad. Lightning was flashing everywhere and the cold rain droplets soaked me. I felt cold and my clothes were uncomfortably clingling to my body. Even though it was unimaginably uncomfortable, I kept pushing through to the end journey. I had to make up for the past. Otherwise, I could never forgive myself. When I got to my old house, it was already dark outside at 8 p.m. I laid my bike on the driveway and went to the door. For a moment, I held my breath and my hand raised to knock on the door. Then my hand dropped back to my side and I paced a few steps. I had to get myself together. I slammed the palms of my hands onto my cheeks then took a deep breath. I was ready. I firmly knocked on the door. One minute passed and I began to reconsider my decision of coming all this way. As I was about to turn around and leave the door opened. I heard a gasp and then someone tackled me with a bear hug. It was my mom. She pulled me into the house and began apologizing way to fast and way too much. Eventually, dad managed to pull me out of mom’s suffocating hug and asked, “What brought you here Lei? Did something happen?” Mom then realized that my being here was also unusual. I could not longer control my emotions. Now it was my turn to hug mom and repeatedly apologize. When I had calmed down, I realized I hadn’t explained anything to mom so I began telling her. When I had finished, she could only let her jaw hang down. I guess she was really surprised that was what compelled me to come back to Berziesburg for a few days.

Over that time mom and I spent a lot of time talking and catching up on life. I told her about my first performance and about the upcoming one. I didn’t tell her about me giving up on my dream and not actually performing. She hugged me and told me, “I’m glad you persevered and made your dream come true.” On Thursday I headed back to Manhattan to catch up on my studies and help prepare the competition in the theatre at school.

Saturday was the day the band would perform. I was helping my friends prepare their instruments when the person watching the attendance list ran up to me and said, “There’s a woman at the entrance claiming to be Leizian William’s mother. We can’t verify if that’s true, so we don’t know if she can be let in.” Why would my mom be here? I sorted things out with the ticket woman then told my band I would be doing a solo last minute. They looked relieved. We all rushed to sort that out with the backstage crew. Then we decided I could be the closing song.

I was nervous. What had compelled me to perform last minute? I think it was because my mom was watching and I could show her my skills. As I stepped onto the stage and walked to the piano, I could feel my palms sweating. I was nervous. I needed to regain my composure before I got to playing. I sat on the bench and closed my eyes while placing the tips of my fingers on the keys. Then I gathered up all my courage in one deep breath. I opened my eyes and found mom in the crowd. Then I began my song. It was a five minute piece that was supposed to tell a story of a brave heroine. Three minutes into the song I could tell my nervous jitters were coming back. My fingers unwillingly began speeding up the song. I had to regain composure before this all became a nervous train wreck. I willed myself to calm down. I imagined I was back in my old house playing the piano with my sister. The song slowed back to the pace it should be at. Then came the hard part. It went really fast and I never quite mastered it. As I was going through the part, my right thumb slipped a little and the keyboard made a muddy sound. I let go of the pedal to clear it fast so no one could catch it. Before the other notes, I was holding could end, I placed my foot lightly on the pedal again. I had one minute left of the song. Would I survive until the end? It was obvious to me that I had not practiced at all this week and my fingers were feeling tired from the lack of playing. I doubted I could actually pull this song off. I made a mistake. Wait. I couldn’t lose composure before my 30 seconds is up. My brain replayed the end in my head and I kept up with the pace. Five seconds left! Four...Three….Two...One! The finished the song to the end. The audience began applauding and I remembered what to do after my performance. I stepped away from the piano and did a bow. Then I stood back up. The stage lights shone too brightly in my eyes to see what the judges thought, but I could tell a lot of people enjoyed the song. I bowed one more time before confidently walking off stage.

“Great Job!” Deanne said as I walked backstage. The band rushed me to sit in a front row of the audience and see who the judges voted winners and were qualified to move on to state championships. We all waited in suspense. Finally, the head judge came and said, “We can choose five people to move on. If we call your name please come to the stage.” I waited for my name to be called, but the two words never came. Then some shuffling in the audience happened and one of the backstage crew ran over to the judge. He handed the judge a piece of paper and whispered. Then the judge said, “Oh. We’ve had a tie between two people. Leizian Williams please come to the stage!” I couldn’t help but smile the biggest grin I’ve ever grinned before. I had made it! I was one little baby step closer to my dream! I know the road will be long and hard, but I also know this. One day I will be a world famous musician!