Engaging Stories from
by Rhonda Telfer
Art © 2015 by Tatjana Mai-Wyss
Copyright © 2016 by Carus Publishing Company.
All rights reserved, including right of reproduction in whole or in part, in any form.
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ISBN 978-0-8126-6566-6
Art by Tatjana Mai-Wyss
On the way home, Finn asked his
mother how many songs there were to learn.
“There must be thousands,” she said.
“Especially if you practice.”
“Then I’d better start soon,” said Finn.
He looked at his building fingers. “How
many days,” he asked, “till Tuesday?”
“I hate Tuesdays,” said Finn. “Tuesdays are
the worst days now.”
“Wait and see,” said his mother. “You
haven’t even met Miss Bea.”
2
11
Finn was starting
piano lessons. Every
Tuesday, at 3:30,
“But it will be worth it,” said Miss Bea.
“Piano lessons are like that, too. You work
and work to build a song. You use keys
and hammers and strings. Your songs
can be fast or slow, high or low, soft
or loud.”
“I want to build a fast loud one,”
said Finn.
“You will,” said Miss Bea, “when your
fingers learn to run and jump. But for
now, our time is up.”
10
right after school.
Right when his feet
wanted to run and
jump. Right when
his hands wanted to
build his new
Star-Blaster. (He had
the kit with him, just
in case Miss Bea
wasn't home.)
Finn’s mother rang the doorbell.
“Maybe she went shopping,” said Finn.
“Or maybe she’s too grumpy to give a
lesson. Maybe she’s sick and doesn’t want to
give me germs.”
But the door opened, and there was
Miss Bea, at home, smiling and looking
very healthy. “Hello there, Finn,” she said.
“Come on in.”
3
Miss Bea’s
piano was black
and shiny. It had a
curvy clock, a
stack of books,
and a gold lamp
on top. Finn sat on
the bench. His feet
sure couldn’t run
now. They
couldn’t even
touch the floor.
He held on to his
Star-Blaster kit.
“That looks like a special box,” said Miss
Bea. “Is it something new?”
“It’s going to be a Star-Blaster,” said
Finn, “but I have to wait till I get home.” He
tried not to look grumpy when he said it.
“Ah, so you’re a builder,” said Miss Bea.
“That’s very good. I bet you can figure out
how this piano works. Why don’t you start
by pressing some keys?”
4
9
Then Miss Bea had a question. “If you
were going to build a piano, how many
pieces would you need?”
“H’m . . . fifty?” guessed Finn.
“More,” said Miss Bea.
“A hundred forty-two?” guessed Finn.
“Many more.”
Finn guessed all the way up to nine
hundred fifty-seven, but it was “More,
more, more.”
He tried sixty-eight zillion. “Not
quite,” laughed Miss Bea. “But it’s still a
big number: ten thousand pieces.”
“Whoa,” said Finn. “My Star-Blaster only
has sixty-two. But it’s still going to be hard
to put it together.”
8
Finn pressed some white keys. Then he
pressed some black keys. Then he pressed a
white one and a black one at the same time.
It didn’t really make a song, but Miss Bea
said she liked it.
Then, to Finn’s surprise, she took away
the clock, the books, the lamp, and—
whoa!—popped the piano open.
“I didn’t know it had a lid,” said Finn.
“Every piano does. It has hammers, too,”
said Miss Bea. “Stand on the bench and look
inside.”
5
Finn’s mother
held him steady.
The hammers
weren’t the kind he
expected. They
were pieces of wood
with round ends.
The ends were
covered with felt.
Some were fat. Some
were skinny. Finn touched the felt. It was soft
and fuzzy.
There was a row of strings in front of
the hammers. The strings were made of
metal. Some were fat. Some were skinny.
Finn touched a string. It was cool and tight.
6
“Now press a key and watch what
happens,” said Miss Bea.
Finn pressed a key and (bong!) a fat
hammer hit a fat string. He pressed another
key and (bing!) a skinny hammer hit a
skinny string. Pressing lots of keys at once
made lots of hammers hit lots of strings. It still
wasn’t a song, but Miss Bea said, “Good job.”
Finn sat down and tried more keys. His
left hand made
low rumbles, and
Miss Bea said it
sounded like a
rocket blast. His
right hand made
high twinkles, and
Miss Bea said it
made her think
of stars.
7