My first performance in front of an audience was coming up soon.
    I tried as hard as I could to remain calm, but my heart was racing. I stared down at my sweat-covered, shaking hands.
    I looked up again at the audience, realizing that these were real people. They were not just my mum and dad, who would say, “Good job!” even if I messed up the entire piece.
    What if I had the wrong music? What if I played the wrong notes?
    As it turned out, I was never able to answer these questions because the spotlight (聚光灯) was waiting for me. I grasped my hands tightly together, drying off the sweat.
    Slowly I walked to the mud-brown piano in the center of the room. It contained 88 demanding keys, which were waiting impatiently to be played. I swallowed the golf-ball-sized lump (隆起部分) in my throat and sat down. Slowly, I opened the music. Next, I rested my still shaking hands on the ivory (象牙色的) keys.
    As my fingers played across the keys, I was becoming more unsure of my preparation for this moment. But the memory of my years of training came flooding back. I knew that I had practiced this piece so many times that I could play it backwards if requested.
    Although at one point I accidentally played two keys instead of the intended one, I continued to move my fingers automatically (自动地).
    My eyes burned holes into (were fixed on) the pages in front of me.
    There was no way that I was going to lose my concentration. To keep this to myself, I leaned forward and focused carefully on the music.