The Mute

Background

My name is Alex. No one really notices me, I don't have any friends, I'm mute and I'm in Marching Band. I'm obsessed with music. I've played since before I could walk. My parents have pretty much been absent my whole life. My dad works all day, and my mom works all night. They see each other very briefly each day, and I rarely see them at all, which doesn't bother me too much by this point.

I spend my days in my room or around the house doing homework, chores, or reading/writing for fun. I'm the reason the house still looks like a house and the animals aren't dead. They throw their stuff on the floor, and they don't feed the animals. On the plus side, if I put something on the shopping list, they'll get it, and my allowance is about $60, seeing as I alone do all the housework. Most of what I make goes into my bank account to use for college, but the rest I use for band.

Band.

I love band. It's my life, my escape from life. When I'm playing, I feel free. When percussion started halfway through sixth grade, or beginning band, I was a shoo-in. I got my first drumsticks at 8 because my parents saw how I was playing rhythms with sticks all the time. I grew up with percussion, and I easily stood out above others at auditions. I could play everything in the back, and I often showed the others how to do something.

I mostly teach myself new, more complex, rhythms in my dwindling spare time. In class I tap out rhythms and annoy those who prefer silence. I do assignments in band class and I practice more outside of school to the point of my parents soundproofing the downstairs and getting me a multitude of percussion instruments, including a drum set, maracas, a marimba, bells, a glock, and some others. I spend every available second in the basement training myself on each instrument until I can look at any new piece of music and play it nearly, if not entirely, perfect, which takes a couple years of practicing on everything everyday.

And now I'm starting Marching band as a nineth grader.