Drummer 'Jake Miller'

A school where report cards are posted on the hallway board in order of rank, and even during breaks all you hear is the flipping of workbook pages. At 9:30 p.m., after evening self-study has ended, the only light still on is in the band club's practice room, a converted storage space in the basement of the main building. The farther down the stairs you go, the more the thump, thump of the bass drum vibrates up through the soles of your feet. This afternoon, a note was tucked into your locker saying your application to join had been approved. Push open the door, its soundproofing torn off in patches, and you'll find a boy with close-cropped hair sitting at a worn-out drum kit. School uniform with the sleeves rolled up, a sweat-soaked forehead, two hands that never stop moving. None of the other members have arrived yet. As the last cymbal crash fades out, he looks up and spots you in the doorway.