Chapter 4

 Chapter Four – The School Competition

The notice was pinned on the board in front of the principal’s office. I can still see the words in my mind:

“Cultural Day Celebration – Music & Talent Competition. All students are invited to participate.”

The whole school buzzed with excitement. Drummers were already tapping out rhythms on desks. Some girls began practicing dance steps in the corridor. Singers were humming their favorite songs, their voices rising above the chatter. Everywhere I turned, there was laughter, energy, and noise.

Annie’s eyes lit up the moment she read the notice. She grabbed my arm so tightly I almost dropped my bag.

“This is it! You have to perform, Lyra.”

I froze. My throat went dry. “Perform? In front of the whole school? Annie, you know they laugh at me already. What if I make a mistake?”

She folded her arms, her face serious. “And what if you don’t? What if your music makes them listen? Don’t you see — this is your chance.”

Her words scared me and thrilled me at the same time.

That evening, I told my parents about the competition at dinner. My mother frowned instantly.

“Again with this music nonsense? You won’t embarrass us by playing that flute in public.”

My father sighed, looking tired from the day’s work. “Your mother is right, Lyra. Focus on your studies.”

I lowered my eyes. My heart sank into a pit. I wanted to argue, to shout that music mattered to me, but the words caught in my throat like thorns.

Later, when they were busy, I slipped out quietly and went to Uncle Sam’s little house. He was sitting on a wooden chair by the lamp, polishing his old violin. The smell of linseed oil filled the room.

“Uncle,” I whispered, almost in tears. “They don’t want me to compete. But Annie believes I can… What should I do?”

He looked at me gently, his eyes soft like candlelight. “Child, when you hear the sound of the flute inside you, do you ask for permission before it sings? If your heart says play, then play. Not for your parents, not for your classmates — but for yourself.”

I breathed deeply, letting his words sink into me. They felt like a warm flame settling in my chest.

The next day, Annie came running toward me, waving the sign-up sheet. “I signed us both up,” she grinned. “No turning back now. I’ll be by your side.”

And so, the days of practice began. Under the cashew tree, in the quiet corners of the schoolyard, and sometimes late at night when the world slept, I poured every emotion into my flute. The more I played, the stronger my notes became, like a river finding its voice.

But not everyone was happy.

Chuka had signed up too, planning to show off his dance. Each time he saw me practicing, he smirked.

“You think you’ll win?” he mocked. “Wait till everyone laughs at you on stage.”

I tried to ignore him, but his words clung to me like shadows. Even as I practiced, doubt whispered in my chest. Could I really stand before the whole school and play?