The Mute

Chapter 4

I hang around after school with Alex before band practice. We've both already gotten set up. I got my hands on a pre-calc textbook, so I'm reading it eagerly.

"I don't get how you can just read that," Alex comments.

"I find math interesting," I sign back to him.

Some other people walk by and eye me. I recognize some of them from band practices, but I don't know their names. I feel my heart start to race, and Trixy nudges my foot. I place my hand on her head to calm myself down.

More people are walking by, so he switches to just signing.

"How can math be interesting? It's just a bunch of numbers and letters, and if anything, it's confusing."

"That's your opinion." I sign back. "I find it comforting because everything has an answer, and it's always the same, no matter what. It doesn't differ from country to country."

"Okay. Ready for band practice?"

"Not if they keep yelling at me for not responding when asked a question. None of them know sign language, except for one who knows some very abstract words." I almost hit someone who wasn't paying attention to where they were walking.

"Watch it!" They shout.

"I wasn't in the way. You ran into me," I try to sign to them, but they've already left.

I attempt a sigh, but there's no sound other than that of a forceful breath. I see other members of the pit moving outside, so I walk out with them. I've mastered the art of not making a single sound when I walk, no matter what I'm standing on. I get in the rack and wait for practice to start.

"Is Alex out here?" The section leader asks.

I'm kind of short, and I'm tying my shoes, so they probably just can't see me.

I try to answer, but I forget I can't speak. I switch to signing, but their looking away from me. I switch to morse code and tap out the answer on the rack, but they don't hear it. I roll my eyes and grab a mallet from my mallet bag.

"-.--  .  ..." (Yes) I tap out on a cymbal.

They look my direction, and I tilt my head and give them a small, coy smile.

"You know morse code?" The instructor, Jess, inquires.

I nod and she smiles.

"I don't know sign language, but we both know morse code. Wanna use that to respond when I ask a question?" She suggests.

I nod again, and we both smile. We go on break as the drumline sets up behind us. I get hit with inspiration, which is weird. I write down what I thought about and do a simple sketch on my hand, even though I'm not an artist or a writer by any means.

We start up and repeat a spot that is just a bunch of bass drum gong hits for me. My arms are getting increasingly more tired with every rep.

"Alex. Start doing every other rep after this one. Okay?" Jess instructs.

I nod and smile slightly before the rep begins. I play with newfound energy from the promise of a break, no matter how small.

I do as she commands and I set my mallets down to massage my arms when the next rep starts. People look over at me because they're used to me playing. I get to hear the other parts without myself covering them up to my ears.

My arms cry out with relief and pain when I move them down. They make a creaking sound that the entire pit and drumline seem to hear, as they look over to me in confusion and mild panic, while playing. I let loose a small, soundless sigh and rub my shoulders.