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jaw muscles loose. Now try I.”
    “
Iiiiiiiiiiiiii
,” sang Stevie. Then she started to giggle. “Sorry,” she said when she saw Ms. Bennefield’s puzzled expression. “That one always reminds me of Tarzan.”
    “It does, doesn’t it?” Ms. Bennefield chuckled. “It sounds like you’ve been getting in some good practicing, though. Did you bring your music today?”
    “Yes, it’s right here.” Stevie pulled three pieces of sheet music from her backpack and handed them to Ms. Bennefield.
    “Have you decided which song you want to sing at your audition?”
    “ ‘What Child Is This?’, I think.” Stevie liked all the songs Ms. Bennefield had assigned her, but she thought she sounded the best on “What Child Is This?” since it didn’t go up quite so high as some of the others.
    “Good choice,” said Ms. Bennefield, studying the music. “It’s a beautiful carol. Would you like to try it now?”
    Stevie nodded. “I think I’m ready.”
    Ms. Bennefield arranged the music on her piano. “Okay. Now stand in front of the mirror and watch yourself as you sing. Concentrate on making a pleasant picture as well as a pleasant sound.” She played an introductory chord as Stevie got into position.
    “Remember what we’ve worked on. Stand up straight. Shoulders back, eyes alert and looking at your audience. Remember to breathe evenly, with your diaphragm. Keep your mouth and jaw relaxed, and try not to make faces. Remember, you’re singing a song, not having a tooth drilled.”
    She sounds just like Max
, Stevie thought as she tried to arrange herself in front of the mirror. She could just hear Max in the indoor ring saying, “Heels down, shoulders back, eyes soft, don’t arch your back and remember to breathe!”
    “Ready?” Ms. Bennefield played her beginning note on the piano.
    Stevie nodded. She took a deep breath and opened her mouth, but instead of a perfect, pear-shaped note, out came a thunderous belch! Ms. Bennefield stopped playing in midnote, and Tootie squawked on his perch with alarm.
    “Oh, Ms. Bennefield, I’m so sorry,” Stevie cried, her face growing hot with embarrassment. “I didn’t know I was going to do that. It must be the ice cream I just ate at TD’s!”
    Ms. Bennefield raised one eyebrow at Stevie, then began to laugh. “It’s okay, Stevie. I was just expecting a B flat instead of a burp.” She hit Stevie’s note again. “Shall we take it from the top?”
    Stevie nodded and resettled herself in front of the mirror. Ms. Bennefield began playing again. This time Stevie opened her mouth and actual notes came out. For a moment she felt as awkward as she usually did when she sang; then she remembered all the things Ms. Bennefield had told her to do.
Relax, smile, let the music bubble up from within you.
Suddenly the noise she was making actually began to sound pretty. She noticed that Ms. Bennefield was smiling as she played, and even Tootie seemed to listen, looking at her with his beady little eyes. Stevie sang all three verses of the song, and Ms. Bennefield finished with a flourish on the piano.
    “Excellent, Stevie!” she cried. “You really have been working hard.”
    “Thanks.” Stevie blushed with pleasure.
    “There are just a few little areas where we need to do some work.” Ms. Bennefield made some more notes on her music. “Let’s take it from bar sixteen. You’re going a little flat on the very last phrase.”
    Stevie took a deep breath and sang bar sixteen again. Thirty minutes later she was still standing in front of the mirror, still singing bar sixteen.
    “Gosh,” Stevie said when they had finished the twentieth rendition. “Learning to sing is just as hard as learning to ride.”
    “It really is, Stevie,” Ms. Bennefield said. “Most people think you just open your mouth and this wonderful sound comes out, but singers have to practice constantly. It’s very hard work.” She smiled. “Would you like a glass of orange juice?”
    “Is that