“Then I have a piano, a Steinway upright. I don’t play anymore. My hands are too stiff with arthritis. That piano sits in my living room gathering dust. And every day I feel guilty about it. An instrument like that should be played.”
“Mrs. Chen, are you saying…”
“I’m saying that piano belongs with someone who will love it the way it deserves to be loved. If this child and her father want it, it’s theirs. I’ll even pay to have it moved and tuned.”
Mr. Rodriguez had to pause to collect himself.
“Mrs. Chen, that’s extraordinarily kind.”
“It’s not kind. It’s right. Tell them to come see me this weekend.”
When Mr. Rodriguez told Lily’s father about all of this over the phone, the man broke down crying.
“I don’t know what to say,” he kept repeating. “I don’t know what to say.”
At school, things changed for Lily. The story of what happened in music class had spread through the building faster than the video had spread online. Suddenly, everyone knew about the quiet new girl who could play piano like a professional.
Some kids started sitting with her at lunch. They asked her questions about music, about what it was like to play. They weren’t mean about her clothes anymore. They saw past them now, saw the person underneath.