The first scream rose and lingered on a high G sharp before gliding down the chromatic scale to land and sputter out an octave lower. Georgia didn’t flinch. Didn’t miss a quarter of a beat. Scales flowed beneath her fingers with a ticking as regular as any Rolex. The gentle hiss of warm air from the vent made little headway in the frigid cube of a room, yet Georgia’s coat lay tossed aside, her cheeks rosy from the morning’s exercise.
A clatter of footsteps echoed in the cement stairwell. Shouts and more screams. Someone opened the door of her practice room, letting in the smell of coffee and panic. Georgia played on, ignoring the intrusion, heavy into Hanon now. The door slammed shut. Georgia’s fingers never faltered. Focus and discipline—this is how you win piano competitions. Eyes on th
