ayed trange jumble ts, tes staying o the end.

    ood up, I discovered my legs  motions and   all. I s my rig out,  do, except for Old Cing, quot;Bravo! Bravo! ell done!quot; But tricken face. to my cried not to cry, I tle boy  ; and t;ell, sainly tried.quot;

    And noo my back. I felt t stiffly t t of the show.

    e could ermission. Pride and some strange sense of  s to tc all: teen-year-old boy aced girl e makeup  ion. And t prize playing a tricky violin song t sounded like a busy bee.

    After t. Clairs from to my mother.

    quot;Lots of talented kids,quot; Auntie Lindo said vaguely, smiling broadly.

    quot;t ; said my fato me in a  I had done.

    averly looked at me and s;You arent a genius like me,quot; ster-of-factly. And if I  felt so bad, I would omach.

    But my mot devastated me: a quiet, blank look t said s everyt t seemed as if everybody  t, to see s ually missing.  on to go une and my mot. I kept ted to  until  ing at me. But ment, my mot to to tions. No blame. And in a  disappointed. I ing for o start sing, so I could s back and cry and blame her for all my misery.

    I assumed my talent-s I never o play t ter, after sc of tccV.

    quot;Four clock,quot; s unned, as to go talent-sorture again. I ig of tV.

    quot;turn off tV,quot; sces later.

    I didnt budge. And t o do   Cened to  upid one.

    S from tcood in try;Four clock,quot; she said once again, louder.

    quot;Im not going to play anymore,quot; I sai