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By Root 275 0

I felt out of my league. What did he mean by triads and tritones, and making harmonic sense of the music, and why did Sophia seem to get it all so quickly? Other times, I picked up things that Sophia missed—I watched Wei-Yi’s demonstrations like a hawk, sometimes drawing sketches in my notebook to capture them. Back home the two of us would work together in a new way, jointly trying to absorb and implement Wei-Yi’s insights and instructions. I no longer had to yell at Sophia or fight with her about practicing. She was stimulated and intrigued; it was as if a new world were opening up for her, and for me too, as a junior partner.

The hardest part of the Prokofiev was the elusive Juliet theme that formed the backbone of the piece. Here’s what Sophia later wrote in a school essay about “Conquering Juliet”:I had just played the last notes of “Juliet as a Young Girl,” and the basement studio was dead silent. Professor Yang stared at me. I stared at the rug. My mom was scribbling furiously in our piano notebook.

I reviewed the piece in my head. Was it the scales, or the jumps? I had nailed them all. The dynamics, or the tempo? I had obeyed every crescendo and ritard. As far as I could tell, my rendition had been flawless. So what was wrong with these people, and what more could they possibly want from me?

At last, Professor Yang spoke. “Sophia, what temperature is this piece?”

I was tongue-tied.

“It’s a trick question. I’ll make it easier. Consider the middle section. What color is it?”

I realized I had to give an answer. “Blue? Light blue?”

“And what temperature is light blue?”

That was easy. “Light blue is cool.”

“Then let the phrase be cool.”

What kind of instruction was that? The piano is a percussion instrument. Temperature isn’t part of the equation. I could hear the haunting, delicate melody in my head. Think, Sophia! I knew this was Juliet’s theme. But who was Juliet, and how was she “cool”? I remembered something Professor Yang had mentioned the week before: Juliet was fourteen years old, just like me. How would I act if a handsome older boy suddenly declared his undying love for me? Well, I thought to myself, she already knows she’s desirable, but she’s also flattered and embarrassed. She’s fascinated by him, but she’s also shy and afraid of looking overeager. This was a coolness I could comprehend. I took a deep breath and began.

Shockingly, ProfessorYang was pleased.“Better. Now do it again, but this time let Juliet be in your hands, not your facial expressions. Here, like this—” He took my place on the piano bench to demonstrate.

I will never forget how he transformed the little melody. It was Juliet just as I had envisioned her: alluring, vulnerable, a little blasé.The secret, I began to realize, was letting the hand reflect the character of the piece. Professor Yang’s was cupped in the shape of a tent; he coaxed the sound from the keys. His fingers were sinewy and elegant, like ballerinas’ legs.

“Now you,” he ordered.

Un fortunately, Juliet was only half the piece. The next page brought a new character: lovesick, testosterone-fueled Romeo. He posed a completely different challenge; his tone was as rich and muscular as Juliet’s was ethereal and slender. And of course, Professor Yang had more questions for me to grapple with.

“Sophia, your Romeo and Juliet sound the same. What instruments are they played by?”

I didn’t get it. Uh, piano? I thought to myself.

Professor Yang continued. “Sophia, this ballet was written for an entire orchestra. As a pianist, you must reproduce the sound of every instrument. So what is Juliet, and what is Romeo?”

Bewildered, I fingered the first few bars of each theme. “Juliet is . . . flute, maybe, and Romeo is . . . cello?”

As it turned out, Juliet was a bassoon. I was right about Romeo, though. In Prokofiev’s original arrangement, his theme really is played by the cello. Romeo’s character was always easier for me to understand. I’m not sure why; it definitely wasn’t real-life inspiration. Maybe I just felt bad for him. Obviously he was doomed, and he was so hopelessly