Amina, a wiry African American girl with hopeful eyes and tightly coiled braids, sits cross-legged on her bed, humming softly. Her voice, even when barely above a whisper, has a haunting beauty that fills the tiny room with warmth. Each note she sings is a promise to herself—a secret reminder that there is more to life than what lies outside her window.

Amina steps outside, clutching her notebook. The sights and sounds of her Houston neighborhood—sirens in the distance, the sizzle of frying catfish from a neighbor’s window, and the rhythmic bounce of a basketball—form the backdrop to her daily life. She waves to her best friend Monique, who grins and jogs over, her hair pulled back with a red ribbon.

Amina stands at the end of the second row, nervously clutching her hands. Ms. Green, the choir director with a voice like honey, nods encouragingly. "Let’s hear that solo, Amina. God gave you a gift—don’t be afraid to use it," she urges, her eyes warm.

"There’s a light in the darkness, shining just for me…" Her voice, pure and powerful, soars to the rafters. The congregation sits in stunned silence, then erupts in applause. Monique beams at her from the pews, wiping away tears.

She can still hear the echo of her song in the church, the pride in Ms. Green's eyes, and the hope shimmering in Monique's smile. Amina knows the world is rough, but with her voice, she can carve out a brighter corner—maybe even change the tune for others like her.

"One day, they’ll hear my song everywhere," she whispers to herself, her eyes shining with determination. The world beyond her Houston street may be vast and uncertain, but Amina walks forward, her music leading the way.