Tim sat in the waiting room of the music studio. He could hear music and laughter coming from behind a door. His mom sat across from him tapping on her handheld organizer.
Mom looked up at Tim. "Are you nervous?"
"A little," said Tim. "I've never played the piano before."
"That's why we're here," said Mom.
Just then, the door to the lesson room opened. A girl about Tim's age walked out with a stack of books in one arm. She waved to the instructor. "See you next week." As she walked by, she smiled at Tim.
A tall, dark-haired man greeted Tim and his mom. "Hi, I'm Brian Lewis." Tim's mom stood and held out her hand to shake Mr. Lewis' hand. Then Mr. Lewis turned to Tim. "You must be Tim," he said, holding out his hand.
Tim stood and shook his hand. "That's me," he said with a wide grin.
"Come on in," said Mr. Lewis, pointing towards the open door to the lesson room.
Tim and his mom walked in, and Mr. Lewis shut the door. Tim's mom sat in a chair next to the door. Mr. Lewis motioned for Tim to sit at the piano. Tim walked over, pulled out the bench, and sat down. An anxious look crossed his face as he looked at the white and black keys.
"You look a little overwhelmed," said Mr. Lewis.
Tim looked up at his teacher. "Uh huh."
"Don't worry; it's not that hard to learn to play the piano. It just takes practice."
"Practice?" said Tim with a puzzled look. "How much practice?"Paragraphs 14 to 34:
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