The Sony cassette player Alexis's parents had bought her years ago was used mostly to block out the obnoxious blabber of kids during bus rides. Maybe that's why she liked heavy metal so much: It was loud. Screeching brats were no match for its sheer volume. Now that she was drumming every day, the cassette player's duties had shifted from earplugs to the professional tool of a musician. Earbuds in, audition music on, Alexis sat in the garage for hours, every day, copying the drum-hits note for note from the audition tape. When she was too sore and tired to drum, she consulted a book she'd bought with her allowance, or listened to drum lessons from a teaching series that Isaac had given her. He'd bought that along with the drums when he was still interested in playing.
It seems that with Isaac, she didn't need her parents' assistance. She regarded their previous reluctance with triumph. If they were too cheap to help, then she would find new ways to achieve her dream.
"Aren't you practicing a little too much?" Isaac had asked her on the second week, when he noticed that she just happened to be practicing every time he came over, and when she'd talked about nothing else at school.
"No way! I only have one month," she'd retorted with urgency. Couldn't he see how necessary this way? He should have been praising her.
"Well, I guess I am proud of you, even if you're overdoing it."
One Saturday at noon, Isaac came over and was greeted at the door by Alexis's mother. "Hello, Miss Alice."
"Hey there, Isaac. If you're looking for our sleepyhead daughter, she's still in her room passed out."
"Oh. Should I come back later?"
"No, no," she declared, backing from the door and sweeping an inviting arm toward the parlor, where the staircase was. "The girl doesn't need to be sleeping away her entire weekend. Go wake her up."
Isaac and Miss Alice shared a grin. She was almost as much of a prankster as him. Upstairs, Isaac knocked on the door just in case she was already up. If he came barging in while she was still dressing or something he'd get an earful. "Alexis?" he called, just for good measure, but there was no response, so he opened the door a crack and peeked in. The light was out and a desk-fan was quietly humming on the nightstand beside the bed. She was sleeping, alright, and the little light coming in through the window wasn't waking her.
Smirking, he opened the door and hit the light-switch. "Alright, lazy-bones, it's time to get—"
He never got to "up" because what he saw surprised him into silence. All of Alexis's blankets had been pushed down toward the foot of the bed, as if to get them out of the way. Ice packs were all over her: On her arms, behind her head, and it looked like they were under her back, too. Isaac didn't have to wonder why. He knew immediately. Looking at her there, in the dim, still room, his face twisted into disapproval.
Alexis stirred, groaning. "Isaac?" Her voice was so pitiful that he almost decided not to scold her.
"Alexis," he said sternly. "I told you that you were pushing too hard. What are you doing to yourself?"
It was obvious when she panicked. Isaac could see her eyes change from drooping to wide and alert as her mind worked to think of a good way to spin the situation. "It's, it's nothing," she croaked,and her dry throat gave way to a coughing fit.
Isaac stood patiently, unimpressed.
When Alexis had finally recovered, she tried to look confident and natural. The ice packs didn't help the image she was going for. "It's just my body getting used to the exercise. My muscles will recover soon and I'll be stronger, O.K.?" She tried to punctuate with a cheerful grin, and it was only almost convincing.
Isaac crossed his arms defiantly. "No. Not O.K. That's not how it works. I mean, it does, but when do you think the muscles actually get time to heal? It's when you rest. Look at you." He gestured toward the ice-pack on her forehead, drooping pitifully down over her eyebrows. "You look like you were run over. Twice."
There was a long pause while Isaac waited for her to repent.
"Isaac," Alexis said quietly.
"Yes?" His tone softened.
"Can you hand me my drumsticks?"
"Why?"
"I like to mentally practice when I'm too sore to practice normally, and it helps to hold them."
"That's it," Isaac said, turning toward the door. "I'm taking my drum-kit back."
"No!" Alexis bolted upright, sending the ice-pack launching from her forehead. It plopped down at the edge of the mattress with a squishing sound, tumbled over the precipice and splatted onto the floor. With a sharp bark of pain, Alexis flopped limply down again. Every muscle in her body seemed to ache with painful urgency. "You can't," she whispered, and Isaac could hear by the tightness in her voice that she was about to cry. "I need this."
She seemed so small and weak that Isaac couldn't keep up a good head of steam. Sighing, he turned toward her again. "You can't keep exerting yourself like this," he said gently. "Look at you, you're crying and we've only been talking for thirty seconds. You're hurting yourself." His voice was insistent, but soft.
Alexis was quiet, staring at the ceiling with hot tears leaking down the side of her face. "I just want to be good at this." Her voice was like a flower petal, falling in the dead air.
"I know. You will be. How much are you practicing?"
He heard a sniffle, then an almost imperceptible mumble.
"What?" he asked, taking a half-step forward and turning an ear toward her.
"Five hours a day," she murmured.
"Dude! Are you kidding? Tone it down to two hours, at least."
"But—"
"I'm not gonna be a part of this. I won't let my own drums be the reason you injured yourself horribly. Two hours."
Her expression became sulky, and with the teary eyes, Isaac thought she looked anguished. It softened his heart, and maybe he would have relented, but she must have thought he wasn't going to budge because she said, "Fine." With a sniff, she raised a shaky arm to wipe the moisture from her face on the sleeve of her night shirt. "But if I'm not good enough in three weeks, you owe me for ruining my life."
"Deal!" Isaac said cheerfully, walking to the bedside and giving her shoulder a pat.
"Agh!" she groaned.
"Sorry!"