Followup


by Graham

I inhaled sharply, and slunk down quieter in my seat. You could hear a pin drop in our classroom. Our trigonometry teacher, Harold Greene, had just spanked fiercely, with a hard wooden paddle, the wide receiver and quarterback of our high school football team. Their yelling, then bawling, then gasping and sobbing had pierced the quiet of the classroom as we all sat there shocked, watching these two big jocks, who everyone -- including themselves especially -- thought were exempt from the punishment of Mr. Greenes paddle. Afterwards, sobbing and clutching their punished behinds, they had been sent back to their seats to keep quiet, stay put, and pay better attention.

The next person who talks or gets up out of his seat without permission will wish he had it as easy as Mr. Douglas and Mr. Evans just got it. Is that clear?

Yes, sir! everyone in the class – with the exception of Jerry Douglas and Keith Evans (who were still choking with sobs) – replied affirmatively. Nobody was going to move, much less speak, without getting permission from Mr. Greene. I sure wasnt. With light brown hair and pale, crystal blue eyes, I was on the high school swimming team, so my arms and legs were strong, but I wasnt built like the football players. I was nearly 6' tall, but slim, weighing 155 lbs., and was a 17 year old junior. Id managed to avoid any spankings or paddling in high school for going on 3 years; and I sure wasnt going to risk changing that now – especially given what had just taken place in trig class.

I paid close attention as Mr. Greene worked through problems on the chalk board, demonstrating how to use what he had just talked to us about. As far as I could tell, everybody in class had riveted their attention to Mr. Greenes explanations and demonstrations – even Jerry and Keith who were unusually quiet and attentive. Maybe because the atmosphere had been pretty dramatically cleared by the two, hard spankings just administered by Mr. Greene, but the material we were covering seemed to be really interesting. My consciousness was completely absorbed for the rest of the class period, and the class remained silent.

Suddenly, I wondered what time it was, and looked quickly behind me at the clock on the back wall. 1:15 p. m. Wow! The time had flown! At the start of the school year, Mr. Greene had assigned me to leave 5 minutes early every day and take the afternoon attendance sheet, and any other records or messages, to the office. It was a compliment, because it was known around school that I was a good student, with a high grade point average, didnt get in trouble, and especially excelled in math classes.

Anyway, I realized that it was that time! Without a thought, I grabbed up my books, jumped to my feet, and began tromping down the row to the back of the classroom. Almost in unison, the whole class turned to stare at me walking now towards the front of the class, to pick up the papers, and then head over to the door. In mid-sentence, Mr. Greene turned, noticed the class staring at me, and then drilled his gaze into me.

What are you doing out of your seat, Nathan? he asked.

I was startled that he would bark at me for doing what he had assigned me to do. My head snapped up and I turned almost with a twitch, to meet his penetrating stare. Ah, Im just getting the attendance sheet, to, ah, take to the office. My stammering was an obvious giveaway of my apprehension and concern that Id done something wrong.

Didnt I tell the class that no one was to get out of his seat without permission? Did you all understand that, class? Mr. Greene was unmistakeably irked with me, which I recognized even more by his using the rest of the class as the example to exclude any claim by me that I didnt know what he meant. The class responded with a firm, Yes, sir, you did. I looked over at the class and saw both Jerry Douglas and Keith Evans, their eyes still reddened, but wide with wonder as they stared at me.

Mr. Greene turned back to me, picked up the papers that I was about to take from the desk to deliver to the office, and fixed his focus on me again. So, Mr. Ford, I ask you again what are you doing out of your seat?!

Ah, Mr. Greene, you know. You told me to take the attendance papers to the office at the end of every class. So, I was just . . .

And didnt I also tell you, and all the class, not to leave your seat without permission?

Well, ah, yes, sir, Mr. Greene, but I didnt think . . .

No, Nathan, you certainly didnt think – correctly. You thought you didnt have to listen like everybody else, is that it?

No, sir. Thats not it at all. I was just doing what you told me, and, ah, . . .

No, Nathan, you were not doing what I told you, or you would have requested permission to get up out of your seat – just as I told you – before jumping up and stomping around, contrary to my instructions. Do you think youre different than everybody else? Do you feel youre a privileged character?

Looking to the side, I saw the rest of the class sitting with what looked like puzzled smirks on their faces. I could feel blood rushing to my face, and I was sweating, as anxiety swept over me.

No, ah, Mr. Greene. I dont feel like that. Im sorry. I just wanted to do what you had told me, and I . . .

But, Nathan, you didnt do what you, and everybody else, heard -- to stay in your seat unless you had permission. So, dont say you were doing what I told you.

But, Mr. Greene, you dont understand. I wasnt not, ah, doing what you . . .

Enough, Nathan. Dont argue, when its obvious you know youre backpedaling like mad. Empty your back pockets, and bend over the desk. You also heard what I said would happen to anybody who got out of his seat without permission.

I panicked. This couldnt be happening! I gulped, but stood still, paralyzed with fear and dread – especially after what I had just witnessed happening to Jerry Douglas and Keith Evans. Mr. Greene was in no mood to put up with my hesitation. A huge, big-boned former college football players, he towered over me with his 6'5" statute and 260 lb stature. He walked up to me, grabbed the back of my belt and waistband of my jeans, and lifted me up, dragging me over to the desk and dropping me down, splayed across it. Then, he picked up the same drilled, oak paddle that he had used only a short time earlier this period to thrash the bottoms of Jerry and Keith.

I gasped again, as I looked up, wide-eyed, backwards over my left shoulder. I felt his strong left hand push down on the small of my back, pinning me across the desk. Then, instead of the paddle, I felt his right hand pulling my wallet and comb out of my back pockets, as he yanked my jeans upward, stretched tightly across my strong, but small backside.

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!

Without any delay, he delivered 5 thunderous whacks to the seat of my jeans, as he held me squashed down against the desk. The first one was a shock, the second smarted, and by the fifth, I was grunting and grimacing from the fast, hard, fiery contact of the paddle.

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!

By the eighth one, my legs were kicking and thrusting outward against the battering blows of the paddle. He told me to hold still and take the punishment I deserved. In response, I wailed out pleas and promises.

Please, Mr. Greene. I did what you told me! HON-est! I DID! Im sorry. Please! Im sorry. I wont get up again – without, uh! -- ASK-ing! PLEASE STOP!

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!

After twelve, I was hysterical, desperately kicking and twisting around all over the desk, trying to get free of his grip that held me down. And I had begun crying, as I begged, pleaded, and promised in order to get him to stop.

Oooo-uh! Mr. Greene! Please! I didnt MEAN it! Im sorry! PLEEEZ! STOP! Oooooo! Ow! Ow! I wont do it again! I PROMISE! Oooo-uh-ow! Ow! Ow! I wont! NEVER! Oooooo-ow! Ow! Uh-uh-aughuh! I was near breaking down into sobbing, as I thrashed around, kicking and squirming, wriggling, and bouncing on the desktop.

Mr. Greene paused the torrent of swats from the paddle. I told you to hold still, Nathan, and you continue to try to fight what you know you have coming. And I also told you all that the next person who disobeyed would get worse than what Mr. Douglas and Mr. Evans earned, he lectured, but at the same time, reached down with his strong right hand and lifted me by the back of my belt up off the desk, dangling from his mighty grip. Then, he moved backwards, sat down in his straight-back desk chair, and deposited me across his lap.

I was horrified! It was bad enough that I had fallen into getting a spanking after all this time, and was being paddled soundly in front of the whole class. But, now – to be taken across Mr. Greenes knees for a spanking, like a naughty, young boy – was too devastating a discipline to handle. As the first of the resuming paddle blows descended against my now-hot jeans bottom, I thrashed around on my teachers lap, reaching back to protect my battered butt. He grabbed up my right arm and jerked it up into my back, between my shoulder blades, leveraging me into submission.

At that moment, my eyes were blinking furiously, as the flood of tears and sobs erupted from within me, cascading out of my mouth and down my face. I was bawling and shrieking with every successive swat to my branded rearend. If anything, he simply intensified the speed and force of each swat from the paddle. My behind was being torched with that paddle, and I was sobbing incoherently.

Ow! Ow! Ooooo-uh! N-n-nooooo! Stop! Oooo-ow! Stopit! Stopit! Pleeeez! Ow! Im-uh s-sorreeee! Oooo-aw-waaaa! Aw! Waaaaah! Its-uh-Ow! HURRRRTING! Stopit! Stopit! Ohstopit! PLEASE! Uh-aaaa-aughuh! Waaaaaa! Ow! Ow! OW! Illbegood! Illbegood! Aaughaaa-waaaaaa! Mr. Greene! IllbeGOOOD! I screamed at him.

At that moment, the bell rang, signaling the end of class. No one got up. I turned my head, hanging over almost to the floor, to the right and saw that the whole class remained seated, staring at me being blistered by the paddle over Mr. Greenes knees. I couldnt help my shrieking and weeping from the pain of the paddle, but I closed my eyes and turned away, reopening them to stare at the floor.

Aw-uh! Uh-waaaa! I wont do it AGAIN! I shrieked. I MEAN IT! Ooo-uh-YOW! I wont ever – uh! N-NEVER! – uh-uh! doitagain! Oooo-augh-uh-waaaaa! Puh-leeeez! Illbegood! Illbegood! Iwontbebad! Iwontbebadagain! Ow-ow-ugh-ow! Aa-waaaaaa! Aw-uh! Uh! Waaaaa! I PROMISSSSS! Ooooo-uh-waaaaa! PUH-leeeeez! Waaaaa-uh! Uh! Uh! Waaaaa! Waaaaaa! Ugh-uh! Uh! Nnghuh! Waaaaaaaa! My sobbing was choked by my strangled, gagging gasps for breath, as my body shook and heaved, yet lurched forward with the unbroken barrage from the paddle against my butt.

In my frenzied sobbing, I did not hear Mr. Greene tell the class to get up and leave. About 10 minutes later, when my wailing had subsided to squalling whimpers, I realized that he was no longer spanking me and that the room had filed up again for the next class, while I was dangling over his knees. I was so mortified, and then Mr. Greene reached down, lifted me up off his lap, and stood me next to him like a little boy. Even then, I couldnt help stomping up and down as my hands clutched my torched behind. Tears and snot had run down all over my face, my hair was disheveled and I was disgraced before two classes of Mr. Greenes students.

Go to the boys bathroom and clean up, Nathan. Than report back here at once, and Ill give you an excuse for tardy admission to your next class. Hurry it up, boy! he commanded. I nodded and turned and fled from the room, down the hall, into the bathroom. My butt was really hurting as I washed my face with cold water, and combed my hair. I waited another 3 or 4 minutes, trying to grasp composure, and then began the painful and slow walk back to Mr. Greenes room.

I knocked on the door, and he came to the door and handed me a note to take to my physics teacher. Thuh-ank you, sir, my voice cracked with still-muffled sobs. Then, I trudged down the hallway, around the corner and down the next corridor, dreading entering my physics class late – with everybody fully aware of what had just happened. But I didnt dare to cut the class. So, I opened the door and walked in with shame-faced eyes cast down, averting looking at my friends and classmates. Mr. Wagner was in the midst of a lecture, and simply took the note from me and pointed to my seat. Stiffly, I walked to it and lowered my wounded bottom down onto it.

That seat feel like a scorcher, Nathan? my friend and teammate, Greg, leaned over and whispered to me. It sure did, and then some. I shifted and squirmed around on that seat for the rest of physics class, trying to find a less-painful way to sit. But I was quiet and attentive, and didnt move out of my seat during the entire class.

Physics was the last class of the day, but I wasnt free to go home. I had swimming practice from 4 to 5:30, so I had to hang around for that. After class, I waited until most of my classmates were gone, before I pulled myself up out of the seat and headed to my locker. Several people in the class, who had been in trigonometry with me, glanced back at me as they exited the physics class.

To my chagrin, Greg and Alex (another swim team member) waited for me. Hows it feel, Nathan? they both asked. Is old man Greenes swat as bad as everybody says? Ive never gotten on the bad side of him and had the pleasure, they asked and joked.

All I could reply was I dont even wanna talk about it, it hurts so bad. Their lockers were down another hall from mine, so we split up and I hobbled my throbbing butt down to my locker, got my books for homework that night, and headed to the locker room at the pool.

Inside the locker room was a setting for razzing. Everybody on the swim team had heard about my not only getting the paddle from Mr. Greene, but being hauled across his knees, and held on his lap, while being paddled. Those who were innocent and inexperienced to Mr. Greenes spankings – as I had been up until a hour and a half ago – wanted to know how bad it was. Those who had experienced their own samples in the past, commented on how hard he hit, and that at least they had never been put over his knees. I felt more ashamed and humiliated, especially as the team gathered around while I pulled off my jeans and boxers, and gingerly pulled on my swimsuit.

My bottom was soundly battered and red. Wow! Nathan! He really lambasted your butt good – even through your jeans!

Tell me about it, I whined, as I carefully and tentatively pulled on my tight, small swim suit, leaving some paddle marks visible outside the brief suit. Then, it was in the pool for 1 ½ hours of exhausting practice. Actually, the strenuous movement in the water gave relief to my aching backside, and the drain of arduous effort and focused concentration in practice helped crowd aside the embarrassment of my recent punishment. In fact, as I excelled in the freestyle, my crushed ego recaptured some poise.

After practice, the swim coach called me aside and spoke quietly with me. Im surprised, and sorry, to hear about what happened to you today, Nathan. Thats not like you at all. What go into you?

Coach, its not like that. Mr. Greene wouldnt listen. He didnt even give me a chance to explain. I wasnt, ah . . . ah, bad, . . . honest! I implored.

Well, we all know Harold, the coach responded. You better behave yourself with Harold Greene, or youll regret it with your rearend. Mind your behavior from now on, Nathan. I dont want anymore of this kind of thing to take place, you understand?

Yes, sir, coach, I rapidly replied. Neither do I. Thats for sure!

All right, then. Go change and head on home. We have meet in two days – this Saturday. Youd better not be limping around with a bruised behind, boy! he tried to relieve the tension. I just winced a smile, and headed back into the locker room to change.

Oh, oh, Nathan. Ryou gonna get it from Coach too? some of the guys poked fun at me, obviously wanting to know what he talked to me about.

No way, was all I said. Hurriedly, I dressed back into my jeans, longsleeve shirt, and shoes and socks, and headed out of the building across the parking lot to where my car was parked. In 25 minutes, I pulled into the driveway at my home. When I walked in the door, my Mom greeted me with a friendly Hi, Nathan.

Hi, Mom, I responded, still somewhat dampened by the unexpected humiliation of the afternoon. Whens supper? Im starving. I added.

About 7, Nathan. We have to wait for Dad, and he said he has something to take care of when he gets home. So, were waiting for him.

Okay. I said, then headed up the stairs to my bedroom. I took off my shoes and spread myself out, face down, on the bed. In minutes had fallen asleep into turbulent dreams of being spanked over and over again by Mr. Greene. When I awoke, it was as was roughly roused from sleep by my father pulling my arms upward, dragging me off the bed. I gathered my feet under me, gained my footing, and stood facing my father. He was only about 2 inches taller than I was, but outweighed me by over 70 pounds. His face was very stern looking, staring penetratingly into my eyes, and he had in his hand the old, birch hair brush with which I had been very familiar in the past, although not for almost 3 years. Oh, no, this cant be, I thought.

What happened at school today, Nathan? his question went directly to the issue at hand. How did he know already? I had been carrying a deep, suppressed dread around in my subconscious since I sat down reluctantly in physics class. My Dad had always told me that if I got in trouble at school, I would be in worse trouble at home. The few times in elementary and middle school that I had done so had always proven my fathers words. Now, I was sick with apprehension as Dad confronted me.

Ooooh, Dad, you wont believe it. It was sooo unfair. I tried to explain, and Mr. Greene would not listen at all. It was awful.

Well, Nathan, when Mom called me at work and said that Joey had asked her if you were able to sit down now, and then told her about your disobeying Mr. Greene, and his having to paddle you in front of the whole class, I decided to call Mr. Greene and get the truth. Thats what I did; and thats what I know now, Nathan. So, if you try to lie to me, you will only add another day to the punishment you are getting tonight.

Joey! What a rat! He must have come by while I was at swim practice and run his mouth! Punishment tonight?! What now?! I had already endured more than I ever expected or should have. No, Dad. I didnt disobey Mr. Greene. He only thought that, because he wouldnt listen to me. It wasnt fair, and it was awful.

Nathan, Mr. Greene said he had told the whole class – after similar incidents had occurred today also – that no one was to talk or get up out of their seats without permission; and you just disregarded what he said and got up and starting walking out. Just flat out disobeyed his orders. I cant believe you would act like that, Nathan. But you are going to regret it for a long, long time, I promise you that, young man.

No, Dad. Its not true! This is not fair! Mr. Greene wouldnt listen, now you wont listen either.

No, Nathan, Im not listening to any more of your attempts to escape the consequences of your bad behavior by telling lies. What have I told you would happen if you got in trouble at school, young man?

Ah, . . .Id be in worse trouble at home. But Dad . . .

Thats right, Nathan. If you get in trouble at school, you can expect me to follow it up with more at home. You can count on it; and you are about to find out how much worse it can be at home when you disobey at school . . .

I didnt disobey, Dad!

Enough! And, since you still dig in with your lying, you will get a second session on Sunday night again.

Noooooo, Dad! Thats not right! Its not fair!

Dad sat down on the bed, grabbed hold of me and pulled me over alongside his right leg, then roughly and quickly unbuckled my belt, unbuttoned and unzipped my jeans, and yanked them down over my butt and thighs, down my legs to my socks. I wanted to pull away, and run away. But he then jerked me off my feet, puling me fast, splayed across his lap, my face smashed into the blanket on my bed. Instantly, he reached up and snatched my boxers down my butt, past my thighs and knees, to gather with my jeans tangled around my feet.

Wait, Dad! I begged. Wait, please! Youre making a mistake. I can explain. I can explain it.

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

Instantly, my already damaged behind was aflame. The hairbrush on my bare butt was sizzling like a torch. At once, I was jumping and howling, as Dad unleashed a constant, machine-like dance of the hair brush all over my butt and thighs. Instinctively, I reached backwards again with my right hand, to try to shield my blazing behind. Dad wrenched my hand and arm up against my shirt, into my bare back, as he continued hammering away on my bottom with that flaming hairbrush.

I kicked and bucked, yelled and screamed, bounced and twisted, all only to exhaust my energies quickly, and break down into wailing sobs and shrieks and bawling. Dad lectured me in time with the staccato of the hairbrush branding my bottom.

You SMACK! will SMACK! remember SMACK! SMACK! and regret SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! this behavior today SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! for the rest SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! of your life SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! young man! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

And as long SMACK! SMACK! as you live SMACK! SMACK! in my house SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! you can count SMACK! SMACK! on getting your rearend blistered SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! anytime SMACK! SMACK! you disobey SMACK! SMACK! people in authority SMACK! over you! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! young man! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

I will always SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! follow up SMACK! SMACK! the consequences SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! of disobedience SMACK! SMACK! with far more SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! -- far worse – SMACK! SMACK! at home! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

I was shrieking sobs and gagging gasps, shaking and wailing, my legs still involuntarily kicking and cycling in reaction to the terrible thrashing being delivered to my behind.

And youre going to get even worse SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! for lying SMACK! SMACK! Nathan! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! Do you understand me SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! young man?! SMACK! SMACK!

I could scarcely breathe, much less talk, as I bawled and howled under the scalding hairbrush that was setting my already aching butt on fire. Y-yes, uh! Dad! I Uh! d-do. Ow! Ooooo-yaughuh! Ow! Ow! Haughuh-ow-aw-waaaaa! Waaaa! D-dad! P-pleeeez! Oooo-uh! Ow-ow-ow-ow-OW! N-nooooo! Stopit! Oooo-aa-ow! Waaaaa! Augh! Uh! Uh! Uhwa-uh-waaaaaa! Auhwaaaaaaa! Yeeow! Ow! Waaaaaa! Ya-uh-waaaa!

After 40 or 50 more smacks of that hairbrush -- in places where Mr. Greenes paddle never touched -- Dad let me lie hanging there on his lap as the fire subsided in my scorched bottom. I couldnt believe how much worse this had hurt! I couldnt believe all this had happened to me in this one, lousy day. What was going wrong that all this could happen to me?!

Dad lifted me up slowly off his lap onto my feet. My legs were quivering and quavering as I stomped and sobbed, doubled over in front of him. He helped me out of my shirt, and then took a pair of pajamas out my chest of drawers. I stepped shakily into the pants as he held them for me, and then reached my arms into the shirts as he put it on me and buttoned it for me. Then, he slowly marched me down the hall to the bathroom, told me to use it, that I was going to bed for the night. I did as he told me, and then was escorted back to my bedroom, put into my bed, and the light turned off and the door close. I just lay there on my stomach, sobbing in the dark until I drifted off to sleep.

In the morning, Mom woke me at 6:15 as usual. Then she went downstairs to fix breakfast. I limped down the hall and back, dressed with stiff soreness, and hobbled woodenly down the steps into the kitchen. Mom had a big breakfast of eggs, sausage, and biscuits prepared, and I was famished form missing supper the previous night. So, I ate twice as much, twice as fast, sitting on a pillow that she had put on a chair for me. When I finished, I got up, kissed her goodbye, and headed out to my car, into which I tenderly lowered my battered behind.

Friday was excruciating agony for me to sit throughout classes, on the hard chairs, with my bottom throbbing no matter how I sat. I couldnt tell anybody, though. I was already so humiliated from what Mr. Greene had done. I sure didnt want anybody to find out what more my Dad had done.

But swimming practice was something else. When I peeled off my clothes, to put on my swimsuit, everybody in the locker room exclaimed, Man! Nathan! Youre butt is dark purple and really bruised! Wow! Old man Greene really laid it on you! It was clear that they thought all this had been inflicted by the paddling in trig class yesterday.

Practice was hard, and we finalized our plans for tomorrows meet. Then, we were released to dress and go home. With continuing anxiety I drove home that night. My Dad was already home, and we all sat down to supper together. My sitting was again with discomfort, even on the pillow Mom had supplied. I would have liked to go out and get away from my Dad for the night, but I knew he expected me to stay put tonight, and get to bed early. And I knew I needed to do so to be ready for the meet tomorrow. So, I stayed home and was in bed by 10 p. m.

Saturday morning, I was up at 6 a. m., and at the school pool at 7 a. m., to ride with the team on a bus to the meet. The ride was bumpy and shot throbbing pains into my wounded bottom. When we got to the pool of the out-of-town school where the meet was held, we piled out, into the locker room, and changed quickly into our swim suits. When the meet was over, our school had won, and I had won an individual heat and had participated in a winning relay, as well. With my team, I was jubilant. We stopped at a small, Italian restaurant on the way into town, for dinner and celebrating.

Afterwards, we arrived back at the school pool around 9:30 p. m. It was after 10 p. m., when I got home. I sat and talked about the success of the swim meet with my parents, then headed up to bed around 11:30. The next morning, I was awakened to join my family at church. That night, Dad delivered another bare-bottomed spanking with the hairbrush that revived all of the pain and shame that I had endured twice over just 3 days earlier.

Monday at school was more of the same excruciating misery of trying to find a comfortable way to sit through classes. Swim practice brought more shocked reactions from my teammates when they saw the fresh-looking marks on my rearend. Nathan, how bad did Greene paddle you, anyway?! Your butt looks worse than it did last Friday! Unless you got another one since then?

My head jerked up and I quickly looked sideways to see Greg staring with disbelief at my behind, even after I had covered it with as much as the skimpy swimsuit would allow. Then I quickly looked away and down at the floor, shutting the door on my clothes in the locker.

Thats it, isnt it, Nathan? You got another one since Greenes paddling, didnt you? Who gave it to you, man? Its really worse than last weeks.

I couldnt make up an unbelievable lie. My Dad, I confessed. He always follows up any trouble at school with worse at home. I hate it, but theres no changing him. Thats the way it is, I admitted in an embarrassed, soft reply.

Mine, too, Greg rejoined. Thats why I stay clear of any trouble. That would be bad enough. I cant stand what would be waiting for me at home.

Wheww! I sighed with relief to know that the same conditions applied to my buddy and teammate, -- and he was bigger than I am. Anyway, after my Dads two followup sessions, I showed a diligent outlook and intent to behave myself and avoid any more trouble at school -- or anywhere else for that matter. And I did, successfully, for another year, when once more I found myself in another disciplinary mess at school, and followup at home. But thats another story.


More stories by Graham