Page 19 of I Am Sin

I jump up and down, clapping my hands. “I love presents!”

“I know you do, Dragon, and we don’t have a lot of money for presents, but with Griffin arriving, and her getting all the attention, I thought you might like something for yourself.”

He presents me with a large box wrapped in paper with dragons printed on it.

I rip the paper off, open the box, and inside?—

“Oh, wow! A drum!”

Dad smiles warmly. “Yes, it’s a drum, Dragon. When you were a little boy, still in your highchair, you used to bang your hands on the tray, and I swear to God, I heard rhythm in your creations. I said to your mother, ‘Stevie, that boy is going to be a drummer.’”

Dad pulls the drum out of the box and sets it in front of me.

I start beating it with my fists.Bang, bang, bang. Thud, thud, thud.

“You use these.” Dad hands me two wooden sticks.

I take each of them in a fist and bang on the drum. This time it clicks, like a snapping sound. I like it.

Dad smiles. “You’ll get the hang of it. You’re young yet, but someday I think you’re going to be a mighty fine drummer.”

I don’t care about being a drummer. All I care about is that I got a present. My daddy bought me a present, and it makes me feel good. All warm inside. Because ever since Griffin was born, she seems to get all the presents. Mom and Dad say that’s what happens when you bring a new baby into the house, and that I got just as many presents when I was born. I don’t remember any of that, though, so I’m not sure I believe it.

My new drum is red and shiny. The top is white and shiny, and the lines on the sides are silver.

“It’s called a snare drum, Dragon.”

“Snare drum,” I growl. “Sounds like a snarl.”

“Kind of,” Dad says, “but the drum has nothing to do with snarling. The snare drum is a central piece in a drum set.”

“Drum set?”

“Yeah. That’s a collection of different drums and other things that are used in lots of music. But the snare drum is the best drum to learn the basic rhythms on, especially at your age.”

I beat on the drum with the sticks, enjoying the sharp sound.

Dad crouches down and looks into my eyes. “You have to take care of your drum, Dragon. This is an actual musical instrument, and I know you’re young, but I want you to have it.”

“Thanks, Daddy.” I continue beating on the drum.

“Dragon.”

I look up, still playing.

He grabs my hands mid-beat. “I’m serious. This isn’t just a toy. I want you to have fun with it, but it’s an actual musical instrument that you need to take care of. Now, I’m going to help you because you’re so young. I’ll show you how to take care of it, and then, as you get older, I’m going to expect you to do it.”

I nod vigorously. “Okay, Daddy. I promise I’ll take good care of it.”

“And there’s one other thing,” Dad says.

“What’s that?”

“You can only play it in the garage.”

I frown. “Why, Daddy?”

“Because we have a new baby in the house. The drum might wake up Griffin. She needs her sleep, and so does your mom.”

---