Levi Saelua, after talking more than he ever has in his life, a rare solo of words, clicks open his instrument case. He takes out his Selmar alto sax and holds it sweetly in his hands. How perfect it must feel.

"We become better people for it," he says, almost sotto voce, while silently padding the keys with his eloquent fingers. By that he means, in the sacrifice of practice, in the devotion of playing, in the communion of voices, music fills, transforms the soul.

Saelua is a junior at Rio Americano High School. At 2, a diapered prodigy, he recalls drumming on kitchen containers. "All I remember is that the Tree Top Apple Juice jar made a cool sound," he says with a laugh. Today, Saelua does big band arrangements and writes original jazz compositions. He's one of those magical kids whose musical potential soars off the charts.

"He's really solid -- just as a person," says Craig Faniani, who, in his 25 years of directing stellar jazz bands at Rio, has seen his share of phenomenons. "We like to show him off! He's versatile. He's inventive. He's really respected by his peers. He leads by example of his playing. He's one of those kids you point to and say, 'This is what you want to do.'"

Now, school done for the day, Saelua sits in the band room at Rio. Though deserted, it still reverberates with sound. The walls are lined with posters of jazz greats including Charlie Parker. A panel of windows above casts a subdued glow on a racket of empty chairs.

Levi (pronounced "Levee") Saelua is 16 years old. He's tall, with dark-brown eyes, tawny skin, spiked black hair. He's polite, measured, always on cue. When he wants to make a point -- as though seeking permission to speak or to signal a time out -- he puts an index finger in the air.

"I don't feel any different than anyone else," he says when asked how it feels to be a musician. Index finger. "At this school, the band kids are the cool kids."

So, you're cool? He laughs. "We like to think so."

At age 9, Levi took up the alto sax. "Yes, that's my ax," he quips. "In a sax section, the alto is usually the lead voice. It's the top voice. It has a very clean sound. Everyone says that the tenor is the preacher, the bari is the anchor, and the alto is the top. In the section, the alto is the defining voice playing the melody."

Asked what it's like to play, Levi says, "It's nice. I'm not much of a talker. With music, I can express myself. When I'm not playing, I'm pretty quiet and reserved. But when I'm playing, everyone comments about how engaged I am, how excited I get."

And the feeling? He turns soft. Fashions an almost sublime smile. "It's pretty ineffable," he says, using a word unheard of by most 16-year-olds. "There's nothing like it. People say that about a lot of things. But, truly, there's nothing like it."

Levi lives off Morse Avenue. His mother, Yvonne Donaldson, is a message therapist; his stepfather, Anthony Donaldson is a patient- mobility manager for Kaiser Hospital.

His biological father is in prison. "I've never really known him," says Levi. "My mother tells me about him. I've read some of his letters. Yes, he says he's proud of me."

Two weeks ago, the Rio band performed at the Next Generation Festival in Monterey. Next month, a great honor, it's been invited to play at the Essentially Ellington concert in New York City. Last summer, it toured China. In summer of 2008, it's booked at the Sydney Opera House in Australia.

Girlfriend? "No, I'm single," says Levi with a boyish smile. "I really don't have time for a relationship. Music is pretty much my favorite thing to do. Listening, writing, playing." His tastes are eclectic, from Pat Metheny to Ludacris, Johnny Hodges to Alison Krauss, Regina Carter to Mary J. Blige.

He turns quiet.

"People probably don't know me on campus," he says. "I spend all my time in the music room. Here, they know me as the kid who's always writing music in his notebook. I like to write random melodies and chord progressions. Things that sound cool in my head. Later, I try to figure it out."