One step at a time. Her past students had started young. By the time they had crossed paths with Shizuka, each had endured years of recitals, performances, Christmas shows with Bach’s Prelude in C Major and The Nutcracker Suite.

But Katrina was new to this not-always-friendly world.

And then, to add everything she had endured until now?

Of course she was scared. But fear was one thing every musician has to face. And so was playing live. Even the online musicians Katrina idolized had performed in live events. There was no substitute for live performances; they transformed both audience and musician.

Yes, Katrina was scared. But as long as she kept walking, Shizuka would not lead her astray. She would guide the girl, one step at a time.

The first store they entered was bright with LED lighting. The speakers were blasting dance music with lazy auto-tune, a lackluster melody, and far too much bass.

This wasn’t a place that Shizuka would usually visit. Unless one were Yuja Wang, these were definitely not clothes for a concert hall. But the materials seemed soft and forgiving; the colors were vivid. Maybe they might get lucky.

The salesgirls watched them, and despite having no other customers, they turned their backs and kept talking.

One of them pointed and laughed.

Katrina spun around and rushed outside.

“Katrina?”

“I can’t. Maybe I could perform in boy clothes?” Katrina offered. “It might be less troub—”

“Katrina Nguyen. Don’t you ever say that again!”

Katrina blinked. “I—I’m sorry.”

“And don’t apologize!” Miss Satomi seemed furious. Suddenly, Katrina thought of Helvar Grunfeld.

“It’s okay. Miss Satomi. It’s okay.”

Shizuka looked at her student.

“Really, it’s okay.”

Shizuka steadied her breathing and nodded. “Well then, let’s try a department store.”

This time, the lady was very nice to Shizuka, but once she saw Katrina, her gaze changed.

“We have nothing,” she said sweetly.

“Really?” Shizuka replied, even more sweetly.

The salesperson stepped back, as if threatened by a knife.

“Let’s go, Katrina.”

Really? This girl, this musician? What had she done to deserve scorn like that? Shizuka noticed Katrina begin to shy away not merely from the gown stores, but the perfume stands, the shoe stores, even the food court. She had followed her this far, but the girl was beginning to waver.

Shizuka stopped. This was not the time to be angry. Katrina did not need any more anger.

“Katrina?”

“Yes, Miss Satomi?”

“Cinnabon.”

“What?”

“We’re getting Cinnabon.”

Luckily, no one was at the Cinnabon line—most people were too unimaginative to eat Cinnabon for lunch.

“Thank you, girls,” the cashier said.

They bit into their Cinnabons even before they reached their table. They were sloppy and sweet and gooey.

“Don’t worry, Miss Satomi. I won’t tell Miss Tran,” Katrina said.

“Shut up!” Shizuka said as they sat down.

Katrina laughed. But then, she suddenly caught herself and looked around fearfully.