“Did you hear what I said?” The band director was looking right at me. So was everyone else. “Yes, ma’am. You want me to do the solo (独奏) at the concert.” I said, trying to hide my fear.

I play the jazz saxophone (萨克斯管). I’m the best player in the sax section of my middle school band; I even do concerts with the senior high band. So, what’s my problem? Stage fright. Performing with a group is no problem. Butraying solo? I will freeze like a water balloon in deep space.

The band director continued, “By the way, the director of the Youth Symphony will be there. You know, if he hears someone who’s really good, he invites them to audition (试演).” I tried to look calm as I headed to the door, but the rock in my stomach had just doubled in weight. I’d dreamed of playing in the Youth Symphony for a long time but never had the courage to audition. I could pretend to be sick and stay home. But there are only two concerts each year, and missing one would be really a great pity.

“What should I do?” I went back home and headed downstairs. I usually practice in the basement. The family calls it Kevin’s Dungeon (地牢). I play great in the dungeon. It’s comfortable down there—just me, my sax, and my music. “Why can’t the school auditorium feel like my dungeon?” I said to myself. Then an idea occurred to me—how about sticking a photo of my dungeon inside the bell of my sax? Looking at it while playing might work for me. I immediately took action and practised and practised.

The day finally came. Suddenly, the lights went down, the curtain went up, and we were off and running. Each song started and ended, but it was like somebody else was playing my sax, not me. Then it was time—my solo.

I stood up and walked to the front of the stage.

With the last long note ending, the audience burst into applause.

Days of January were passing and every girl of the girls’ school was very happy as the selections for plays and dances for the annual function were started.

Sneha’s class teacher, Pravina, asked Sneha, her favorite student, to play the leading character in a play. Because she was never allowed to play a male character, Sneha jumped with joy, but suddenly she became so serious about the costumes (戏服).

“How many times I have to tell you not to participate in plays and dances! Can’t you understand that we can’t buy or borrow the costly costume? You can take part in debates, quizes, or essay competitions in which you don’t have to spend money and you can enrich your knowledge,” her mother said angrily when Sneha told her about it.

The reason behind all this was their financial condition. Sneha always had an idea about it in her home and she was mature enough to say NO to any money demanding condition. This time, however, the desire of fame and the excitement of the activity were overcoming her fear.

Sneha went in her room hiding her sadness deep in her heart. She was so nervous about what was going to happen when she would tell Pravina about leaving the play. Would she warn her not to allow her in any competition? Now it was clear that she had to leave the play.

The next day, downhearted Sneha acted like nothing had happened and got ready for school. Her mom ordered her to say NO for the play.

Sneha always loved Pravina because whenever there was a play or dance, the girls did not need to be worried about anything related with money. She would find a way to help. But Sneha didn’t want to tell her the truth.

Sneha went to the teacher,“I don’t want to take part in the play and I’m leaving.”

Pravina stood patiently, waiting for the performance to begin.