‘Total Garbage,’ Music Teacher Mocks Immigrant Student’s Song, Hears It on Radio Later – Story of the Day

After eviscerating the bravely composed song Shahnaz showed at the music academy, her teacher, Mr. Brooks, didn't even bother to help her improve for a state-wide contest. But he soon learned that underestimating the talented immigrant piano student was a bad idea.

"Guys, remember. This contest is extremely exclusive. Only a few selections will make it to the final round with the judges," the music academy director, Mrs. Palomino, explained. "But I hope all of you put your best foot forward and make our academy stand out!"

The director was talking about a state-wide contest held by several music organizations in the country. Some of the best musicians in their state would serve as judges for the selections. It was a prestigious honor just to participate, but the winner would get prize money and the chance at a scholarship for one of the nation's top music programs.

Everyone wanted it for different reasons. But the main idea was to get started in the industry. The director of the little music academy in their small town urged all her students to participate, even if the chances of getting accepted were low.

"Remember that getting our name out there is so important. Good luck to everyone!" Mrs. Palomino finished. All the teachers were also composing music to enter the contest. There was no age limit or any requirements. They just encouraged you to be proficient in an instrument or singing.

Even though the academy teachers were competing in the contest, they were supposed to focus on helping each student with their submissions. Music was a competitive field, but the adults were trying their best to inspire the kids. Well, almost all adults...

Shahnaz, the new student from an immigrant Persian family who had only moved to America two years ago, took the director's words to heart and put her soul into a composition. She wanted to prove herself. She had learned how to play piano in Iran, but her parents put her in class so she could make friends and perfect her already decent English.

All the kids were supposed to present their compositions to their respective-level teachers, who then would give them suggestions for tweaking and improving them. However, Shahnaz was in Mr. Brooks' class, and although he was a decent piano player, he was also a self-important man who seemed to look down his nose at everyone else except for a few students.

He never had much to say to Shahnaz unless it was to comment on her accent, but that didn't stop her from wanting to impress him. Mr. Brooks got to decide if she moved up levels at the academy, and she respected his skills and what he could teach her.

The young student knew that all teachers had favorites, and some showed it more evidently than others, but Mr. Brooks also seemed biased against…different people. She hoped that her composition would finally break the ice between them.

"OK," Mr. Brooks said during one of his lessons. "It's time for Shayne's song."

He always pronounced her name wrong, although Shahnaz corrected each time. "It's Shahnaz, Mr. Brooks," she said in her accent.

"Ah, well. Yes, sure," Mr. Brooks dismissed. "We're Americans here. We tend to mispronounce foreign words. Now, go play." He snapped his fingers impatiently.

Shahnaz sat on the piano and began moving her fingers deftly. She had practiced and practiced once her composition was done and could almost play it by heart. Not only that, she also added words, a beautiful poem about being new in a different place and how she hoped life would get easier.

The song was finished before she realized, and her eyes brightened at the faces of her classmates. It was clear they loved it and were impressed, but finally, Shahnaz looked at Mr. Brooks, who sighed dramatically.

"Shayne, you aren't supposed to sing. This isn't American Idol," he laughed to himself, standing. "The judges of this contest aren't going to care about your lyrics — if they understand them anyway — they'll only care about the composition, and frankly, you made many mistakes. As it stands, it's total garbage."

"But Mr. Brooks—"

"What? You disagree? Of course you do. But the truth, child, is that not everyone can play piano. Just because you know some notes and can read music doesn't mean you will become a great musician," the teacher continued.

Shahnaz's cheeks blushed scarlet as Paula giggled at their teacher's words. The rest of the class was murmuring worriedly. She knew it was because they all thought she was good.

"But you can help me, Mr. Brooks," Shahnaz insisted, frowning. "Where did I make a mistake? What would you change?"

Mr. Brooks chuckled mockingly and condescendingly. "Oh, child. We don't have time to correct all the errors. You've been in this academy for a year now. You should have a better sense of the piano. Then again, not everyone can be a child prodigy like I was," he sighed dramatically again.

Shahnaz looked around at the confusion of most others in class, except no one spoke up for her.

Another sigh from Mr. Brooks brought her eyes back to him. "I guess I will take your sheet music home and fix it," he added, waving and dismissing her. The teacher then turned and started clapping excitedly. "Now, let's hear someone else. Oh, my dear Paula's song. Please, come here and cleanse my ears with your talent."

Wrinkling his nose, Mr. Brooks shooed Shahnaz away from the piano as Paula stood from her seat to take her turn. Although the immigrant student tried to ignore it, she saw her fellow pianist's smirk and superior look, one of the class's favorites.

Usually, Shahnaz would take the criticism and sit down to think about it. But this entire situation didn't sit right with her. There was no comment or critique for her work, just pure mockery and downright racism. Mr. Brooks was supposed to help her but instead mocked her in front of the class.

For the space of a second, she thought about calling him out herself. But would she have the support of others? Shahnaz wasn't so sure. Although modern American television shows and movies liked to show strong teenagers who spoke out against the injustices and problematic behavior of others, she knew that wasn't real life at all.

Most people still stayed quiet. Also, Shahnaz couldn't speak up because her mother, Roya, would hate that. The older woman didn't believe in rocking the boat.

"Shahnaz," she could almost hear her mother's accented usual warning. "We are new here. Americans don't like us already. They think we are terrorists, too. We eat different foods, and we speak English funny to them. That makes us different. They don't like different."

"That's not true, Mom," Shahnaz had countered on many of those times. "Times have changed. People can stand up for what's right. We need to speak to stop racism and xenophobia. Otherwise, it will continue."

Roya warned her with one finger. "Don't make any trouble. Not at school or piano class. Now, eat, eat," she scolded gently back then. "Your Ghormesabzi is getting cold."

Shahnaz had always let that go because her mother didn't understand. She thought being in this country was enough. But here, I have to make a place for myself. No one will do it for me because they already think I don't belong.

Unfortunately, Paula's song began, and Shahnaz's chance to call out Mr. Brooks was gone. She remained quiet for the rest of the class, listening intently to the feedback Mr. Brooks gave other students. She almost felt the steam coming from her ears every time he had some helpful suggestions.

He could've told me that, too.

It didn't matter. She was writing down everything, absorbing and observing. After class, someone tapped on her shoulder. It was Fred, another of Mr. Brooks' favorite students, who had received nothing but praise from him for his composition.

"Hey, Shahnaz," he pronounced the name slowly and intently as if he didn't want to mess up. "I loved your song."

"Really?" she asked, her eyebrows rising.

"Yes, it was amazing, and the lyrics were brilliant," Fred continued, frowning momentarily. "Don't listen to Mr. Brooks. I think you just need to fine-tune a few things, but your song should be heard as it is. Mr. Brooks seems to be a bit biased against you, so don't pay attention to him."

"He's racist," Shahnaz expressed what Fred wouldn't say.

He blanched a bit but lifted one corner of his mouth and nodded. "Yeah, but the academy won't do anything about him. They won't fire him because he won some awards years ago. He was a 'child prodigy' or whatever. Anyway, next year, we get Mrs. Schulz, the best teacher in this town. You just need to hold on for that," he said.

"You think he's going to approve being sent to the next level?"

Fred's eyebrows wrinkled further. "I don't see why not. He doesn't want you here," he started, looking thoughtful. "I think there's more than racism here. He might be jealous of you."

"Of me?" Shahnaz choked. "I'm not a child prodigy."

"I don't know for sure. But there's something about his attitude that puts me off."

"You're one of his favorites."

"I know," Fred nodded, looking like he had just sucked an extra sour lemon. "I hate that. It gives me the creeps."

Shahnaz laughed heartily, making the corners of Fred's mouth tilt up again. Soon, he was chuckling, too. When their laughter died down, she wondered, "Do you have any comments about my song?"

"Oh, well. Not a lot," Fred said, grinning as he explained his thoughts. They got deep into musical lingo, and he was a fast speaker. Still, Shahnaz kept up easily, realizing with delight that she had gotten great at understanding even the fastest English speakers.

"Thank you very, very much," she told him, dribbling furiously on her note sheet. Then, she looked up and smiled brightly at the other teenager.

It seemed like Fred was having trouble saying anything else, and for a second, Shahnaz thought he was blushing. But he shook his head suddenly and said, "Yeah, no problem." Then, he waved and walked away.

The competition was a month away, so Shahnaz did everything Fred suggested and asked other classmates what they thought. She also followed Mr. Brooks' suggestions for other kids. What she didn't do was ever leave her sheet music with him.

Shahnaz knew that his "fixing it" method would be nothing but more insults. He may even write a brand-new piece. Anyway, his classmates had great things to say about her work and only a few suggestions to add. Finally, the deadline for everyone's submissions came.

Luckily, Shahnaz had a close friend, Sarah, the daughter of their neighbors, who decided to help record and upload everything needed for the contest. They dedicated several days to the task and finished late one night after clicking send.

"Good luck!" Sarah waved happily, carrying home a Tupperware full of Roya's baklava.

***

It took two months for the selection results to come out, and the director again advised everyone not to get discouraged because there weren't many spots available for the performance. But that night, Sarah came to Shahnaz's house, and they refreshed the website a million times before the actual list came out.

"AHHHHHH!!" Sarah shouted and jumped around Shahnaz's room, drawing the family's attention.

But the piano student was stunned in front of her computer. "This is impossible," she told her friend, noticing her parents running to the room.

"Did you get in?" her father asked in Farsi.

"Yes, Dad!" she replied.

Her mother began praying and called for her brother, Amir, to celebrate with them. The music started quickly, and her dad started to dance, showing Sarah and the rest of the family his "great moves."

The next day was a huge celebration at the music academy. Mrs. Palomino placed a "Congratulations, Shahnaz!" sign on the entrance, and everyone clapped when she got in.

"You're amazing, Shahnaz!" many yelled, although only some of them got her name right.

Mrs. Palomino gushed over her, revealing that she was the only selection from their town. Shahnaz hadn't seen all the other names in all the commotion in her house. The fact that she was the only one in her entire school to get such an honor was shocking.

Of course, Mrs. Palomino started giving a speech about inspiring young musicians, but Shahnaz's eyes noticed Fred smiling and clapping in the corner.

He was just as talented as her — more in Mr. Brooks' opinion — but his happiness touched something in her heart. Paula had a sour look on her face, but she was pretending to be civil. Finally, Mrs. Palomino finished talking and told everyone to get their lessons.

Her class slowly filed into their room. The last person inside was Mr. Brooks, who refused to look at her. It seemed deliberate.

"Mr. Brooks, one of your students got into the contest," Fred piped up unexpectedly. "Aren't you proud? Aren't you going to say anything? You should be celebrating. After all, you helped her just like you did the rest of us. Right?" The sarcasm was thick.

Mr. Brooks' face seemed to turn green, but he cleared his throat and began the lesson without a word to Shahnaz. All the other kids, except for Paula, rolled their eyes in class, knowing he was just jealous.

It must be so terrible to be such a bitter adult, Shahnaz thought quietly, but she still listened to his class. She had just been selected to perform. There was still the actual contest to contend with, and any advice could help her, even if she couldn't change the song.

***

The day of the contest arrived, and her family, Sarah, most of the kids from the music academy, and so many other people were there. Mr. Brooks had not thawed after her selection, even when she tried to ask him questions. He would just huff, answer curtly, and try to move on. It was childish and terrible because she knew he would be delighted if Paula or Fred had been chosen.

"Mr. Brooks," Shahnaz stopped him from leaving the piano room the day before the performance. "Did I do something to offend you? Why won't you help me like you helped others?"

Mr. Brooks flinched, almost imperceptive, but she noticed. "Why do you need my help? You got selected on your own," he replied, squaring his shoulders delicately.

"That doesn't mean I don't have more to learn from teachers like you," Shahnaz shook her head. "I want to be the best I can be, but I can't do that when my teacher refuses to teach me."

"I'm teaching you. You're in my class."

"You know what I mean." She crossed her arms. "You barely answer my questions. You're impatient when I speak up and look away when it's my turn at the piano. What is it you hate? That I'm foreign or that I beat your favorite students?"

Mr. Brooks' eyes flashed dangerously at her. "Don't get used to this. It will fade, and soon, no one will know your name." With that ominous statement, her teacher walked away.

Shahnaz breathed a frustrated sigh. He hadn't answered her questions. She always knew he was bitter and jealous. But it didn't make sense that it was all directed at her. Mr. Brooks wasn't the warmest to other students besides Paula and Fred. But he didn't blatantly shun them.

Was he resentful that his own submission to the contest hadn't gotten him selected? If Fred or Paula had been chosen over Shahnaz and him, would he still be so angry? She didn't know the answers and perhaps never would. Still, she decided to send him a special invitation for the performance. Shahnaz hoped he would come because she had something to say.

After hours of waiting with her nerves on edge and her mother fusing over her clothes, Shahnaz was called to the stage and given the microphone for a second.

"I wrote this song for my family, who moved here to give me a better life," Shahnaz began. "But I also wrote it for the people that don't see us, like my piano teacher, Mr. Brooks. People like him see our skin and dismiss us. Some are afraid of us. But we don't represent our country's government or the actions of terror by some groups. We're not all the same. We're here because we also want to live the American dream."

Shahnaz paused for a beat to look at the proud faces of her parents, who had worked so hard to move to this country for her and Amir.

"I know I can't change how they see us with a song, but it's a start. You can't extinguish our light with bitterness because we will always rise above, knowing our goodness, talent, and strength will always prevail. We know more struggle than most people. We have seen real tyranny destroy what we truly love," she continued, getting more fervent and passionate with each word. "We have laughed and loved in the face of the most unimaginable sadness because we can see the beauty of hope and life."

A tiny hoot echoed through the audience, and Shahnaz smiled, trying not to cry.

"We will keep surviving, writing songs, and playing music, so we'll always remember our struggle and understand how far we've come. This is a song about turning survival into a beautiful life. I hope you like it and find inspiration in its meaning," she finished, putting the microphone back in its holder and sitting at the piano.

The audience clapped and hooted wildly but quieted when Shahnaz began. Her melody started sad and built and built and built until the auditorium was filled with a complex composition that no one could deny. Her lyrics only helped emphasize the notes. The song then slowed and ended on a high note, representing her hope for a better future.

There was silence for a second, then resounding applause and a standing ovation. Shahnaz's eyes watered as she looked toward her family. Sarah and Fred were them, bright eyes looking up at her in awe. She took a bow, mouthed the words thank you, and walked off the stage.

From the corner of her eyes, Shahnaz spotted Mr. Brooks, also standing and applauding. Unfortunately, there was still a slight grudge in his expression.

***

"I hate that you didn't win!" one classmate, Olivia, almost growled. They were gathered for class a few days after the performance. All of Shahnaz's classmates wanted to talk to her. All except Paula, sitting in a corner, intently focusing on her sheet music.

"I know, but the winner was so much better," Shahnaz said, shrugging.

"Yeah," Fred nodded. "He's already got a scholarship to Julliard, though. It seems unfair."

"Everyone was allowed to compete," another person added.

"Second place is still awesome! And people know your name now!" Fred added, and everyone agreed.

Mr. Brooks walked in, interrupting them. Paula started to shift her chair to the center of the classroom. But Shahnaz looked toward Fred, sitting beside her, and saw him pull out his phone. They were all supposed to put it on silent mode before class.

"Good afternoon, everyone," their teacher started and sighed. "Shahnaz, eeh, congratulations. You did very well."

"Thank you, Mr. Brooks," she said, pleased he had tried to pronounce her name correctly. Paula's jaw had dropped at their teacher's rare compliment for Shahnaz.

"OK, let's begin," Mr. Brooks said, clapping his hands.

"Wait!" Fred interrupted and ran to the classroom radio. He turned it on, and Shahnaz's song started playing, shocking them all.

She smiled, a little embarrassed. It wasn't the first time she had heard it.

After the performance, Sarah had the idea to upload her recording to music streamers, and Fred had sent it to radio stations.

"Sarah just texted me," Fred said, sitting back beside Shahnaz. "She said it was on."

The entire class grinned while listening to the song. "This is amazing! You could skip music school and become a recording artist immediately!" someone said.

"She should still go to school," someone else disagreed. "She'll get so much better."

Other comments flew around, but Shahnaz was happy people liked her song. But she was delighted when Mr. Brooks started taping his foot and moving his head to the melody. She had no idea if he was conscious of the movement.

A little progress! Shahnaz thought happily before someone else decided to interrupt the pleasant moment.

"Can we turn that off?" Paula asked snarkily. "My mom doesn't spend hundreds of dollars on this school to waste our time listening to the radio."

Silence reigned for a second before Mr. Brooks spoke up. "Yes, let's begin," he nodded, walking to the radio and turning it out.

There were a few giggles in the classroom. Some kids looked at Shahnaz to gesture that Paula was just jealous. But their teacher started talking, and they all focused.

A few hours later, Shahnaz was outside, waiting for her mother to pick her up, when Fred ran up behind her. "Hey! I'm glad I caught you," he said, breathless for a second.

"My mom is late," she replied, shrugging.

"Cool," he nodded, clearing his throat. "So, I was wondering… if maybe you would like to see a mo-movie with me?"

Shahnaz was stunned. "Movie? Like a date?"

Fred's cheek colored, but he squared his shoulders and nodded fiercely. "Yeah, like a date. I like you, Shahnaz."

The young piano student couldn't help the smile that slowly appeared on her face. Fred was the most popular kid at the music academy, but she knew he was also popular in his school. He was handsome in that All-American way. She would've never imagined this moment in a million years.

"Yes," Shahnaz squeaked. They looked at each other for a couple of seconds in silence. It wasn't awkward. It was charged as if they were supposed to do something, but neither could figure out what. Fred suddenly took a step closer, making her eyes widen.

But the loud horn from Roya's car resounded. "Shahnaz!" her mother trilled, putting down the passenger's side window. "Get on quickly! We have to pick Amir up from baseball!"

"Sorry," Shahnaz whispered, knowing her mother had broken a moment.

"No worries," Fred said, clearing his throat again. "I'll text you later."

"Sure," she smiled and walked to the car, turning back several times. She waved at Fred and finally noticed Paula at the entrance, looking at them like her whole world had just ended. When their eyes met, the other talented piano player scowled hatefully.

Shahnaz put that awful expression out of her mind as her mother rambled on about all the praise she had received from other Persian families in town about the performance. "They all heard your song on the radio," Roya added happily. "Your father has been playing it all day for anyone to listen…"

That night, Fred texted as promised, and she went to sleep late, texting him. They sent each other audio and memes over the next week. Their movie date was on a Sunday, and he asked Shahnaz to be his official girlfriend outside the theater.

They saw each other as much as possible over the next few days, and their first kiss happened at the music academy. Shahnaz had gone outside for a break because Mr. Brooks was drowning on and on about something they all knew already. She was rinsing her hands with a paper towel as she exited the bathroom when Fred's hand grabbed her arm and pulled her to an empty practice room.

They sat at the piano and started tinkering together. It was a happy, joyful sound, but Fred's fingers soon grasped her, and they both turned to each other simultaneously. That strange charge was back in the air.

And she could only hear her heartbeat as Fred's face got closer. She would never forget that moment as long as she lived. Because all the love songs in the world finally made sense. It was stupid to get inspired by any other emotion when love felt like that.

They separated way too soon, and Shahnaz jumped from the piano seat. "Let's go! Before we get in trouble," she mock-whispered, grabbing Fred's hand while he laughed.

She squinted for a second as they straightened and walked to the door. A tuft of hair had seemingly flown by, but no one was outside. They separated, and Shahnaz went to class first while Fred entered a few minutes later to avoid raising suspicions from anyone.

The next day at the academy was different from all other days after she had won second place at the performance. People were looking at Shahnaz strangely, but when she met their eyes, they looked away.

Girls whispered into each other's ears, and she knew that gesture clearly. They were gossiping about her. Strange, she thought, walking toward her classroom. Nothing particularly exciting had happened in a while, aside from her kiss with Fred.

She had been worrying about introducing Fred to her family and how they would feel about her dating an American boy, but now, her concerns were elsewhere. Shahnaz saw eyes widen at her entrance before they quickly looked away.

"Hello, Olivia," she said after sitting down.

"Hey," her classmate said with a faltering smile.

Shahnaz's phone beeped before she could tell Olivia anything else. It was a message from Fred: I can't go today. My brother has a big game, and I have to cheer him on. Miss you.

She quickly typed a reply and settled in for a strange lesson. Mr. Brooks walked in and started his class immediately, which was welcome because it took her worries away while she concentrated purely on music and learning new things.

But every once in a while, she saw some of her classmates staring back. Some passed notes to each other, and soon, her eyes caught Paula's. Her face twisted in a knowing smirk, but she turned around quickly.

Something wasn't right. Shahnaz knew that but had no idea how to broach the subject. When class ended, she exited the room, intent on finding Olivia.

"Olivia!" she called out, but her classmates saw her and almost ran outside. She was halfway down the street before Shahnaz could reach her.

Why is she avoiding me?

Her eyes scanned the place, and Shahnaz realized with horror that everyone was trying to avoid her eyes. But they all had the same look as if they knew something she didn't.

Her mom had yet to arrive, so she grabbed her phone to text Fred. Have you heard anything from anyone in class?"

No. Why? Fred texted back.

Nothing, I guess. But Olivia just ran away from me, and people are gossiping about me. Did something happen to my song?

I don't know. I'll ask. Sorry I couldn't be there. I won't leave you alone tomorrow! Fred promised, which made Shahnaz feel much better.

Finally, her mother's sedan appeared, and she was once again waving and yelling at her to hurry up. She was glad about that constant in her life. Roya tended to be late to almost everything by a few minutes.

The following day, Shahnaz was running to her music school in haste. But her lateness this time had nothing to do with her mother. One exam at school had way past the last bell, and her mother had raced through the streets to get her there quickly.

But Fred was waiting for her right by the double doors of the academy, and his face was thunderous. She thought he was mad at her for a second, but his shoulders relaxed when he saw her. His face broke in a careful grin as he jogged to her.

"What's going on? My physics test ran late," Shahnaz explained. "Why are you outside?"

"We need to talk."

She stopped. Those were ominous and dangerous words. "Why?"

"You really don't know what everyone was talking about yesterday?" he asked, frowning.

Was he accusing her of something? "Freddie, I don't know. Sorry. I guess they're gossiping about me. But I don't know exactly because Olivia ran away from me, and others didn't look at me," Shahnaz responded, confused.

"They're talking about us."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"It's not like we're a secret," Shahnaz shrugged. "We've held hands. I was thinking about inviting you to my house to meet my parents—"

"It's not that," Fred interrupted, shaking his head and ruffling his hair. "Everyone thinks we… were together in the practice room."

Shahnaz thought for a second. "They saw us kissing?" she asked, horrified. "They must know we're together. We've held hands in the open."

"No," Fred added. "I mean, yes. They must know, but I think someone specifically saw us kissing. But Shaz, they're not talking about us kissing."

Her eyebrows furrowed. "Then, what?"

Fred's eyes widened, and he started making strange gestures as if he were willing her to understand without him saying the words.

"NO! What? No way!" Shahnaz exclaimed. "Who would say that?"

Fred sighed. "I think it was Paula. I thought I saw someone at the door when we kissed, but I didn't pay attention."

"Why would she lie? I guess we can't stop her from telling people we kissed, but why would she lie?" Shahnaz wondered, confused again.

"I know she hates that you were selected and won second place," Fred shrugged. "But I didn't think she would be so hateful. I'm so sorry."

"It's not your fault," she mumbled. "Freddie, if my parents hear about this…" Shahnaz swallowed, scared.

"I know. But that won't happen," he started, grabbing her hand. "I won't let that happen. This gossip will stop. I swear."

Shahnaz wanted to cry, but she didn't want to have red eyes and a puffy face for her lesson. Paula would get too much satisfaction, so she held her emotions at bay and grabbed Fred's hand. "Let's go to class," she said bravely, making him smile.

They entered the practice room with their hands joined, which only made more people start whispering. Shahnaz again looked at Paula's hateful smirk and knew that Fred was right. She had started the rumors.

Hours later, Fred said goodbye, promising her everything would be alright, and Shahnaz got into her mother's car.

"Oh, is that the boy that sat with us at the contest?" Roya wondered, squinting her eyes to see Fred's figure getting into his mother's big SUV. "What's his name? He was nice."

"Fred, and yeah, he's nice," Shahnaz answered. "He's my boyfriend, Mom."

"What?" Roya clamped down on the brake, propelling them forward too harshly.

"Yeah, Mom," the teenager continued. "I was going to ask if he could officially come to the house on Saturday to meet you and Dad."

"Okay. Okay, we can do this," Roya started nodding. "We're in America. We knew you would act like these teenagers. I'll make him something good. Your father's favorite. He needs to be distracted."

"Mom," Shahnaz interrupted her mother. "Thank you for that. But I have something to tell you."

"Oh, no! You're not pregnant. Are you?"

"No! Mom!"

Roya touched her chest but jumped when the car behind them blared its horn. The older woman put the car in drive and started her way to pick up Amir.

"Mom, some girl started a bad rumor about me," Shahnaz started and changed to Farsi so Roya would understand better. "She lied to everyone about seeing me and Fred doing stuff. We didn't. She saw us kissing, but now that the academy thinks we did stuff in a practice room. I don't know what to do."

"She lied?" Roya asked quietly.

"Yes. Gossip. Everyone is gossiping about us," the teenager continued, tears swelling in her eyes. "I don't know why she would do that. Fred said she was jealous. But she gets praised all the time. She's talented."

"Shahnaz," Roya said, grabbing her daughter's hand tightly while keeping her eyes on the road. "This is not your fault. Fred is right. She is jealous of you, so she had to gossip to take away your achievement. You can't let her. You have to rise above. Ignore her. Tell your close friends the truth and move on."

"Will that work?"

"Some people may not believe you," her mother replied. "But you have the truth on your side. That's all that matters. I bet she is also mad about that boy. I saw how other girls looked at him. Like Brad Pitt."

Shahnaz burst out in laughter, making Roya smile. "Don't worry about silly gossip, baby. You need to worry about telling your father you have a boyfriend. Amir is not going to be happy either."

"Okay," she breathed, wiping her tears. Her mother's words were more than enough to make her feel better, so she put Paula and her hatefulness out of her mind.

When she returned to the academy the next day, Fred was hanging with Olivia and the other kids, who all rushed to Shahnaz when she got out of the car.

"Shahnaz! I'm sorry!" Olivia said while others echoed the sentiment.

Fred gave her a knowing look and came to her side, grabbing her hand. "I told everyone the truth."

"We all knew Paula was jealous. But this is just desperate," another classmate commented.

Shahnaz frowned. "She's going to be so mad again," she sighed.

"Don't think about her. It's not worth it," Fred said, pulling her closer. They all started walking inside. People weren't whispering anymore. They all gave Shahnaz tentative grins and went about their business, meaning Fred had gotten to everyone.

Paula was in a corner in class, sulking, while everyone gave her a wide berth.

"I feel bad," Shahnaz whispered to Fred.

"Don't," he shook his head. "She doesn't deserve it."

Shahnaz shrugged, not feeling any glee at the glum aura around Paula. But Mr. Brooks walked in.

The teacher cleared his throat and paused, something he had never done before class. It was almost like he was nervous.

"Everyone, it's come to my attention that some rumors have been floating around," he began, making Shahnaz blanch. Oh, no!

Fred tightened his hold on her hand.

"I also know very well that the rumors aren't true and who started them and why," Mr. Brooks continued, not looking at anyone in particular. "Music is one of the most competitive businesses in the world. If you want this to be your future, you'll have to learn that sometimes you win, but most of the time, you'll lose."

Everyone in the class started looking around. They all knew what he was saying.

"In those situations, trying to bring the winners down is tempting. Somehow. I, myself, have done it. Jealousy is a dirty, ugly emotion. It's hard to get rid of. But I'm here to tell you that nothing you do can take away a winner's talent or what's in their heart," Mr. Brooks continued. "You can't extinguish their lights no matter how hard you try."

The piano teacher stared straight at Shahnaz, recalling her words at the beginning of her performance.

"It's a lesson I keep learning every day, and even as an adult, it's still hard," he continued. "My suggestion is to focus solely on your music. Your talent. Get better. Play until your fingers bleed so that the next time, you'll win, or you'll feel like a winner. Bitterness and jealousy won't make you a star, better player, or get you into any college music program in the nation."

For a second, Mr. Brooks' eyes rested on Paula, who was staring strictly at the floor.

"I've said my piece," the teacher continued. "Let's begin."

The aura in the room lightened, and Fred turned to Shahnaz, raising his eyebrows. "Wow," he mouthed.

"I know," she mouthed in return. Mr. Brooks had secretly and subtly defended her from one of his favorite students.

I guess he's not so bad, Shahnaz thought. He's just a musician.

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