Aria gazes out the window during her English class. She watches the clouds drifting by past the trees, imagining they are trumpets and violins and music notes. On her desk there is a sheet of music paper with tiny music notes scrawled across it. Her foot taps a rhythm under her desk. Suddenly, her teacher asks, “Aria, what is the answer to number 22?”

Even though she wasn’t paying attention, she knows the answer. English class is easy. All her classes are easy. She answers and then she drifts off again into her own, musical, world, waiting for school to be over.

After class, Aria picks up all her things and places them neatly in her backpack. Her dark curly hair covers her face. The girl behind her asks, “Aria, could you help me with our homework?”

Aria smiles. “Of course, how about you come over later, but not right now, because I’m busy now.”

The girl thanks her and skips away out the door. People in her grade always ask her for help on things they don’t understand, especially since they know how nice and smart Aria is.

She suffers through the whole day until, finally! Aria has arrived at the music studio, her favorite place in the whole world. Inside her teacher, Mr. Harold greets her. His wrinkled, leathery hand takes hers and when he smiles at her, he gets wrinkles around his eyes.

“Welcome my little prodigy!” he exclaims. “Are you ready for today?”

“Yes!” Aria has been waiting for this day for a long time. Today, Aria will get to pick out her very own violin, something she has wanted ever since she first heard one play. But her parents never had enough money to buy one; after all, any good quality violin comes with a big price tag. Mr. Harold had noticed her musical talent and had offered to teach her lessons for a low price. Aria had been introduced to many different instruments, quickly learning to play all of them, but her favorite remained the violin. How beautiful it sounded! Her hero was the person who invented it, whoever that was. The way the bow glides across the strings, how playing vibrato made it sound even prettier. She longed for one to call her own with all her heart.

Mr. Harold, having realized this, had set up fundraisers to earn money for a violin for Aria. Her family was very touched and grateful. And now, they had finally earned enough money! Mr. Harold was the greatest person ever besides her parents, in Aria’s opinion.

Mr. Harold drives Aria to a violin shop several miles away. The roads are bumpy from potholes. She could barely keep still with excitement. It seemed like forever before they got there. The music shop smelled like rosin and wood, and had violins hanging all over the walls, of all different shapes and sizes. The shopkeeper talked to Mr. Harold and disappears into the back room. Aria waits anxiously for several long minutes. Then he comes out with two small violins. One is orange-brown with lines going down it (the wood) and the other is a rich, dark brown that is faded looking in places, but that doesn’t fool Aria. She had learned that violinmakers make the violins look old on purpose so that they look more antique.

First, Aria plays the orange violin. Next, she plays the dark one. She can’t decide which she liked better. The first was sharp and clear, and the latter was strong and mellow. After a long time pondering, she decides on the “antique” one. She beams as the shopkeeper places the violin in a velvety black case and hands it to her. This is the best moment of her life!