Emma closed the piano lid gently and stood, stretching her arms over her head. The room felt settled now—clean, organized, ready.
She walked the perimeter slowly, straightening a music stand here, adjusting a chair there. She erased the faint smudges left on the whiteboard and rewrote the agenda neatly:
Wednesday:
• Warm-up scales
• Chord transitions
• Follow-along melody
• Open floor practice
She stepped back and nodded to herself.
Better.
A soft knock echoed from the doorway.
Emma turned.
One of her students from the guitar class stood there—hesitant but hopeful.
"Hi, Ms. Smith?" he asked.
Emma smiled warmly. "Hi. Come in."
He stepped inside slowly, backpack slung over one shoulder. "I just... I didn't want to ask in front of everyone yesterday, but I'm having trouble with my finger placement. My hands are kind of small."
Emma's expression softened instantly.
"I'm really glad you came," she said. "Let's take a look."
She grabbed a guitar from the wall and handed it to him. "Show me where it feels uncomfortable."
He positioned his fingers awkwardly on the fretboard, frustration written across his face.
Emma stepped closer—not crowding, just guiding.
"Okay," she said gently. "You're stretching too far at once. Try rotating your wrist slightly inward. And don't lock your thumb—let it slide."
She demonstrated slowly, then had him mimic her.
His fingers adjusted.
The chord rang out cleaner this time.
His eyes widened.
"Oh."
Emma grinned. "See? Your hands aren't too small. You just needed a better angle."
He laughed quietly. "That makes way more sense."
"Music isn't about forcing your body to fit the instrument," Emma said softly. "It's about learning how to work with it."
He nodded, absorbing that.
"Thank you," he said. "Seriously."
"You're welcome," Emma replied. "And don't ever feel weird about asking. That's literally what I'm here for."
He left looking lighter than when he walked in.
Emma stood there for a moment after the door closed, feeling something warm settle in her chest.
This.
This was why she came back.
A few more students filtered in during office hours—quick questions about scales, one asking about performance anxiety for the upcoming showcase. Emma listened carefully, offering practical advice and reassurance without overcomplicating anything.
By the time her office hour window ended, the room felt alive again.
She glanced at the clock.
Still some time before she needed to head home.
Emma sat back down at the piano, pulled out her phone, and texted Abigail:
Office hours went really good. I helped a student with chord placement and I didn't panic once 😂 I think I'm actually getting comfortable.
YOU ARE READING
Her life! GxG! Intersex! (Book 1)
General FictionEmma is a young teacher at a local high school. She had recently graduated from college and was eager to start her teaching career. She was excited to meet all of her new students and see what kind of impact she could make.But then she met Abigail...
