The Drum Kit

By Kelsey Dean

A stupider girl might have taken it as a compliment every time it happened, like she was unique, something special. But the fact that every “Wow, you’re so good!” was accompanied by “…for a girl,” infuriated Jess beyond anything else in the world. It was like they really believed that boobs inherently hindered one’s ability to handle drumsticks or tap out a steady beat.

Every patronizing comment sank into her blood and burned like lighter fluid, each rat-a-tat-tat from her wrists ticking down until she finally exploded.

Afterwards, she played out her rhythms on a fresh set of shiny male skulls.