Becky’s grades are low, and her brother’s not too happy about it. Add in a forged note, and she’s earned the trip over his knee!
If there was one thing that Becky hated about high school, one thing more than anything else, was that damn policy of mailing progress reports and report cards home. She was a senior in high school now, not a kid. She didn’t understand why she shouldn’t be trusted to keep her dear brother informed of her academic success, or lack there of, depending on the class. Okay, so she was having a hard time in math. All girls do, right? As she walked home, she clung to the shoulder strap of her bag as if it were a safety line. Okay, so the progress reports got mailed out Tuesday, it was Thursday, so maybe it had come, maybe not. She wasn’t expecting miracles. The last quiz, well, it was way too hard and quite unfair since Mr. Seymour held the quiz on a Monday. Who in their right mind gives a quiz on Monday! It was so unfair. But, hey, she shouldn’t get in trouble over one class, right? Every other class was just going great, well, great for her. No “C’s”, no “D’s” and certainly no “F’s”, so she should be congratulated. It could be a lot worse; a lot worse. Her best friend, Nicki got a “D” on a language arts quiz. How could you get a “D” in language arts?
“You speak English don’t you?” Becky remembered saying to her.
“Fuck you, Becky,” Nicki had said.
“Sorry,” Becky quickly said, not wishing to make her friend feel worse than she obviously already did.
“How’s James?” Nicki suddenly asked.
For a minute, Becky didn’t know who she meant. “You mean my brother, Jimmy?”
“I prefer to call him James,” Nicki said, dreamily. Becky rolled her eyes, knowing what a crush Nicki had on her older brother. It was silly; Jimmy was a lot older than them. She had come out to Rhode Island to live with him. He had been on his own for awhile now, even had his own little house. He left for work even before she rolled out of bed and it was already dark when he got home most nights. She felt sorry for him almost. He seemed to work so hard, day in and day out. Even though he was tired, he always seemed to put together a dinner for her and it was usually much better than anything she could cook. She loved her brother; always had.
“Jimmy is fine. You should pay more attention to Marty, I think he has a crush on you,” Becky said, casting a gaze across the street over at a tall, lanky boy dragging garbage cans out to the front. He seemed to move awkwardly and he had a crooked smile that made him look worse.
“Yuck! You’re too funny, Becky,” Nicki said, turning to go up her sidewalk.
“Hey, are you going on the field trip to Brown?”
“Don’t know, depends on what my brother thinks of my progress report, which depends on the Math quiz. Besides, I doubt Mr. Seymour will give his consent, since I would be missing his class that day.”
“Yeah, I guess. Too bad,” Nicki said. Nicki didn’t sound very sympathetic. Becky guessed it was her chance to get in a dig after the “you speak English don’t you” comment.
Becky only lived a bit down the block from Nicki and she let herself in and she looked down on the floor to see the mail. There, at the bottom, with the familiar light blue ink logo of the high school was her progress report. She ripped it open quickly, fumbling to get it open, only for her heart to sink when she saw the “D” for Math. She sighed. Well, it was just the progress report. Not her actual report card. She still had a chance, but no way was Mr. Seymour going to sign off on her going on the field trip – no way.
She ran up the stairs and sank on the bed, found her iPod and plugged her ears and in a moment the music seemed to push all the thoughts from her head. Then the phone rang and she could see it was Nicki on the caller ID. She picked it up and Nicki was so quiet she had to tell her to speak up. “Well, I got my progress report,” she heard Nicki say quietly.
“Yep, how did you do in language arts?”
“I got a “C” minus!” Nicki was suddenly screaming. “I can’t believe it! I was sure I was going to get a “D”!
All Becky could think was whoopee for her, as if language arts was nearly has hard as math. “Okay, okay, you’re hurting my ears,” Becky said.
“How did you do?” Nicki asked.
“The same in everything – except for Math, I got a “D”.”
“That sucks,” Nicki responded.
“Yeah, it bites.” Becky didn’t feel like talking too much. This surely meant no field trip. Another weekend in the house studying and Jimmy’s pained look. GOD! She hated that look he would give her. It made her feel guilty and stupid. He never got mad at poor grades, although he probably should have, unless he thought you were not trying and were just being lazy and irresponsible. Then he would get angry, really angry and a certain part of her anatomy would pay the price. She winced just thinking about it. But this was just a progress report, so she would have to endure his pained looks and deep concern for her future.
Of course Jimmy wouldn’t just drop it. He talked about it all the time he made dinner and all the time they ate. “Can you get some after school help? Should I talk to Mr. Seymour? Maybe a tutor. Should we get you a tutor?”
“Its okay, Jimmy, I can handle it. I’ll get some help during study hall or during lunch or something. There is a math clinic too. It will be okay,” she kept saying, trying to assure him, assure herself. And then there was that pained expression on his face. He already had sad eyes, although she knew he was a good looking guy by the way her friends acted around him, but he just had these sad, brown eyes, like a Labrador retriever or something that seemed to droop even more now.
The next day at school, she couldn’t bring herself to even look at Mr. Seymour, never mind ask for help. It wasn’t that he was mean or anything, it was just that she had plans for lunch and she didn’t want to stay after school. She had plans the next week too. By Wednesday, Nicki was being annoying, bugging her about the field trip, telling her all the people that were going and how it would be a blast, so that by Thursday, she felt so left out she felt compelled to carefully copy Mr. Seymour’s signature on the consent form. She didn’t need to ask him. She knew he would say “no”, so why bother.
Of course she did not have as much fun as what she thought. Mostly, it had been boring lectures as they walked around the campus, looking at the special art and design displays that were visiting the Brown campus for a couple of weeks. On the bus trip back to school, she felt down right stupid. What a waste of time, she thought. Nicki stayed after school for a track meet, so she had to walk home alone.
She was surprised to see Jimmy’s car in the driveway when she got there. He never got home that early. Then she had a sinking feeling. Maybe he’s sick. No, that would be awful! What a thing to think, she said, mad at herself. She let herself in and as soon as she shut the door, she heard his voice.
“Rebecca, come here,” he said with that tone of voice. Her heart began to thump faster.
“Yeah?” she said, finding him sitting on the sofa. He had that look. That angry, disappointed, “you’re in trouble now, young lady” look.
“I got a call at work from the school.”
He didn’t need to say more. She knew what it was about. It was amazing that she could do something like that and not think it would come back around. What had she been thinking? And on top of it all it was not nearly worth it! “I’m sorry! I know it was stupid, but I really wanted to go and see the exhibit and Mr. Seymour…”
He held his hand up to silence her. “Look, you are struggling in Math and you offend the only person that can help you get through it? That’s stupid and completely irresponsible. I can’t even imagine what you were thinking! When you came out here, I thought you could act like a grown-up. Well, you proved me wrong right away and you are still showing me your lack of maturity.”
“I’m sorry,” was all Becky could say. “I am.”
“Go to your room. No iPod, no T.V. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
God she hated herself just then! How could she have been so stupid! She paced the floor of her room, not able to sit or stay still for even a moment. All she could think was that she was in for it. Her heart thumped so loud in her chest and her throat felt dry. She looked at the closet and the thought of hiding went fleetingly through her head. No, that was stupid and immature, as if he wouldn’t know and just drag her out bend her over and really spank the sense out of her.
He didn’t knock like he usually did when he came to her room. The door just opened and he was there, holding that damn, hard, wooden paddle. “You’ve really earned this, Rebecca.”
“I’m sorry, Jimmy really, I am.”
He came for her quickly, crossing the distance between them before she had time to even think. Then, just as quickly, she felt herself going down over his knees. “Wait,” he said, “unbuckle those.” He lifted her and pointed to her jeans. She quickly did as he asked and felt them slide down her legs and then back over his knee. She got a glimpse of him putting the paddle down on the bed and the she felt his hand on her back, high, urging her down still more and then suddenly has hand exploded on her upturned bottom. He spanked her firmly, his hand clapping and slapping her bottom vigorously.
“Please!” she cried, feeling her body angle over as his hand seemed to pound right into the most tender spots on her bottom, quickly making it hot and sore.
“I’m sorry, too, Rebecca, but you need to learn a degree of responsibility!” he scolded, his hand emphasizing his words with firm, pounding smacks into her bottom. It was so loud, her flimsy panties offering scant protection and not muffling the sharp cracks of his hand upon her seat. Then suddenly, he stopped. “Up!” he said.
She rose up unsteadily, only for him to take her arm and guide her up upon the bed. She knelt, as he directed and with a motion of his finger, she pushed her panties down, fully baring her now stinging bottom. He urged her right down then, right down to her elbows. The top of her head pressed into the covers and she thought she would start blubbering even before he picked up the paddle.
His left hand settled firmly onto her shoulders and then the hard wood clapped loudly and firmly into her bottom. She jerked and squealed as the wood punished her bare bottom so thoroughly. “I’m sorry, Jimmy!” she found herself crying out as he spanked the paddle into her bottom, making her jerk and squeal and bounce on the bed. The punishment consumed her and after only a few moments, she was blubbering and whining apologies.
She stayed, kneeling on the bed for a moment, not realizing that he had stopped. “Get up, Becky,” he said, softly. She pulled up her clothes as she eased off of the bed and almost stumbled, but he was there, holding her, hugging her as she cried softly. “I love you, sis. I don’t want to have to do this again, okay,” he said, holding her chin up for a moment. He had that sorrowful, puppy dog look again.
“Okay,” she said, leaning back into him, comforted by the warmth of his arms around her.