As I picked up my hands from the keys I hear a light clap from the back as a girl walked down the aisle towards me. She is smiling with a tear streaked face.
“Wow you are the most amazing player I have ever heard?”
“How long have you been able to play and sing like that?”
How old are you?”
All these questions just started popping out of her mouth it was hard to keep up. I stuttered. Why were no words coming out? I tried again “My name is Michael and I am ten. I have never had lessons and I do not know how long I have been playing for”.
She stared at me. “No that can’t be true” she stuttered. “Do your parents know you can play this well how are you only ten this is high school?”
I was explaining myself to a total stranger. Why couldn’t I turn around and walk away. “I am adopted and I am in year ten because my teacher were sick of watching me stare out the window and still get excellent marks, so I kept moving up grades” I explained.

She grabbed my arm and started pulling me towards the door.
“Where are we going?” I screeched.
“Don’t panic we are only going to the music teacher. She pulled me along for what seemed like forever taking many doors I didn’t even know about yet until, finally, we found a very grateful looking lady who seemed very happy and energetic just like a music teacher. Kelly started pushing words out of her mouth as if she was trying to finish a marathon. “This is Michael, he’s amazing at playing the piano and singing and who knows what else, anyway, he has never had a single lesson, and he’s only ten”.
Before I knew it I was sitting in front of another very stylish piano being pushed to play. I closed my eyes waiting for the notes to flow to me. I played anything which showed, in my head, my hands played gracefully. When I finished there were many people staring at me as I opened my eyes. Soon enough I heard a massive stuck from them as they cheered and clapped wildly.
People I had never met before walked up to me and clapped me on the back. For once I felt accepted as if I had done something right.

The teacher took me to the principal’s office as soon as she reached me through the small crowd which had been created around me. Ms Pot and the music teacher talked for ages as I waited patiently outside wondering what the big fuss was about. Soon enough Ms Pot called me inside.
I walked with me head held high ready for what was about t happen next. I do not remember doing anything wrong though.
“Hi Michael how are you going?” asked Ms Pot.
“Well thanks” I replied.
“Mrs Sting has just been explaining about your sudden accomplishment in the music department. She say you are like Mozart all over again. Would it be ok if you played for me?” Ms Pot asked.
“um sure I guess” I replied dully. I still do not know what I have done which is so great. I can play a few notes on the piano and sing a few notes who can’t?.

We walked back to music area again and for the third time today I played. Different notes showed again and I hummed the melody to it as my hands pressed gently over the notes. This song was about being homeless and was very sad. When I opened my eyes the teachers were crying but smiled at me like they knew something I did not.
“Michael there is a musical competition coming up and we would like you to be our entry and represent this school” Ms Pot told me.
I sat there on the little stool, my mouth gaped wide open.

The night of the concert
I sat down shakily. I had learnt much on the short time I had had to prepare with Mrs Sting.
“Michael how do you play? Where does the music come from?” Mrs Sting asked me one day.
“I close my eyes and dream about the sounds which the piano makes as little pictures show in my head to play and sing and I just listen and play along to it” I replied thoughtfully.
Now I was sitting on the little stool a microphone pressed up to my mouth, all eyes staring up the spotlight surrounding me. Just like I had many times before, I closed my eyes and played. When I opened a tear trickled down my cheek. That song was about my life so far, bouncing from home to home, school to school, grade to grade, town to town until I just stopped. I found where I belonged.
My foster mum was sitting in the front row cheering along with the rest of the crowed tears streaked down her face looking proud to call me mine, and for once in my life I was happy truly happy.