“Hold the violin gently,” said Mrs. Novak. “It isn’t trying to escape.”

“It feels like it is,” said Oliver. “Every time I put it here it wants to fall.”

“That’s because you’re trying to hold it with your shoulder instead of your whole body.”

“My whole body doesn’t know how.”

“It will.”

Oliver drew the bow across the strings. A scratchy howl emerged.

“Was that music?” he asked.

“It was evidence.”

“Of what?”

“That you began.”

Oliver frowned.

“It sounds like stepping on a goose.”

Mrs. Novak laughed.

“Every violinist has stepped on a great many geese.”

Oliver tried again. This time one note rang clearly.

His eyes widened.

“I did it!”

“You did one note.”

Oliver looked at the violin.

“Does it ever get easier?”

“The violin doesn’t change very much,” she said. “You do.”

He thought about that while placing the instrument back in its case.

“So next week…”

“Yes?”

“Will there be fewer geese?”

Mrs. Novak smiled.

“There will always be geese. The trick is learning to make them sing.”