“What’s a dress rehearsal?” Tommy asked.
“A dress rehearsal is a way to practice for the actual show. The entire school will go through a dress rehearsal on Friday to prepare for Saturday,” Ms. Sanchez said. “And this way, the rest of the school can also enjoy the show.”
“It’s like we’ll have two talent shows!” Maggie said.
“Yes,” Ms. Sanchez said. “One for the school as practice, and one for the parents on Saturday. Isn’t this exciting?”
Walnuts! I had even less time to come up with a talent than I thought. I had to be ready by Friday. That was just three days away! I needed a miracle. A miracle is when something amazing happens right when you don’t expect it.
At lunch, Tommy took out his blue-and-yellow yo-yo from his lunch bag.
“Watch how the colors change,” he said. The yo-yo flashed up and down, turning green as the colors spun fast.
Daisy stood up on her toes and danced around the lunch table, looking like a pretty butterfly flitting on a breeze.
Linnie moved her hands on the tabletop, her fingers flying up and down the imaginary keyboard.
At the next table, Maggie Milsap talked loudly. This wasn’t anything new, because she always spoke loudly. “I played my violin piece perfectly yesterday. My teacher said I’m gifted. I don’t even need to practice! I’ll definitely win first prize Saturday night.”
Everyone had a talent except me. I thought about Mom’s special sticks. I didn’t know where she was taking me after school, but it was definitely going to be better than sitting around surrounded by talent.
* * *
Mom was waiting for me after school. I slid into the backseat of our car and put on my seat belt. I was excited to hang out with her. And maybe, just maybe, I would discover what my talent was!
“Where are we going?” I asked quickly.
“When I played taiko in college,” Mom said, “I belonged to a group of taiko players. One of the other players just moved back to Los Angeles. She says she’ll be happy to teach you a song you can play in your show.”
“Wowee zowee! That’s fantastic!” Good thing I had a seat belt on, because I was so excited, I almost bounced out of my seat.
Mom drove through a gate that said BEACH WALK. We curved around the little street past tan town houses until Mom pulled into a driveway. When we walked up to the door, we didn’t even need to press the doorbell. The door swung open and a woman with long brown hair and a big smile flew out and hugged my mom.
“Sandra!” the woman squealed. “It’s been forever!”
Mom grinned. “It’s great to see you!”
The lady turned to me and smiled. “You must be Jasmine.”
I nodded. It was weird to see my mom with a friend, all hugging and grinning.
“You can call me Kat,” she said. She turned back to Mom. Kat reminded me of a hummingbird. She was fluttery and quick. “Come on in.”
I followed Mom and Kat into the living room. Inside, there were two funny-looking drums. They were not like any drums I had ever seen. One drum was shaped like a barrel and sat on a low stand. The other one was smaller, like a slice had been taken off the big drum and put on a higher wooden stand. Black dots circled the rims of the drums.
“Taiko,” Kat said, facing me, “is the Japanese word for drum. There are a lot of different kinds of taiko. This one”—she pointed to the barrel-shaped drum—“is called nagado-daiko. The smaller one is called hira-daiko.”
“Cool,” I said. I couldn’t wait to play. I reached out to touch the big one.
Kat held up her hand just as Mom grasped my arm, holding me back. “There are rules to taiko.”
I sighed. Of course there were rules. There were always rules.
6
THE RULES
“First rule,” Kat said, smiling at me. “We respect the drum. We don’t touch it, or lean on it, or put things on top of it.”
“If we can’t touch it,” I said, “how do we play it?”
“Good question!” Kat said. “We use bachi, or sticks.”
She picked up two sticks like the ones Mom had at home. She handed them to me.
“The first thing you need to learn is how to hold your bachi at rest.” Kat took another pair of sticks and held them in her left hand, down at her side. And she stood with her legs together. I copied her.
“Good job, Jasmine,” Mom said.
Her words filled me with a bubble of joy.
“Okay, come stand in front of the hira-daiko,” Kat said as she moved to the bigger barrel drum. “Now I’ll teach you the ready position.”
She jumped her legs apart and held the sticks just above the center of the drum. I copied her again, holding my sticks over the smaller drum.
“Excellent!” Kat said. “Let’s practice.”
She had me go from rest to ready three times. It reminded me of doing jumping jacks in school. Wowee zowee! I was a natural!
“Can we play now?” I asked.
Kat laughed. Her laugh was low, like a cat’s purr. “Okay, we’re going to hit the drum once. Raise your right arm high, like this, but don’t bend your arm backward behind your shoulder.”
I copied her. She nodded and gave me a big smile. I glanced at Mom and she was smiling, too.
“After I say ichi, ni, san, SO-RE,” Kat said, “strike the drum hard. I’ll show you.
“Ichi, ni, san, SO-RE,” Kat said in a strong voice. She raised her right stick and brought it down on her drum, making a big booming sound.
“Awesome!” I said.
“Do you know what the words mean?” Mom asked me.
“Well, ichi is one, ni is two, and san is three,” I said. I knew some Japanese words, even though I couldn’t speak the language really well like Mom and Dad. “But I’m not sure about SO-RE.”
“It’s called a kiai and it doesn’t mean anything. It’s a gathering of your energy with your voice that comes from
