Alright. Okay. I'll admit that it isn't the first time I've been sent to ol' Dean Thomas's office. The swatting I was going to get, and the lecture, and the punishment from both Thomas and my father were well worth it for what I'd pulled off. I could hardly choke back the laughter, and my eyes were tearing up with the strain of not busting out, which would put me in even more trouble than I ought to be in.

I sat with my legs stretched out in the hall, and between classes, my friends and the kids from other grades congratulated and cheered for me. Man, I hadn't thought that I'd have eaten it up like I was.

I got so board waiting for Thomas to call me into his office that I pulled my hat down over my eyes, and that just added to his annoyance when he found I was sleeping.

"Mr. Baker," he kept repeating 'till he finally had to shake me awake. I got in extra trouble for the hat. A bit stupid, if you ask me. Thomas wouldn't give that hat back to me, and it hacked me off something awful.

"Mr. Baker," Thomas started, and I instantly began to tune him out until he said the words, "you're suspended for the rest of this week." My jaw dropped open. Of all the things I've ever done in this lazy Texas town, I have never been suspended. Ever. "Don't look at me like that, Mr. Baker. You've been asking for it, and now you're going to get it. I'd have thought now that you're fifteen you'd realize when to stop, and when it's not funny. You're father was called at work, and will be here shortly."

Man, did my face ever pale. Thomas wore glasses, and I could see my reflection in them. The only thing I was ever scared of was my father. The man just didn't know when to quit. He'd whip out his belt sometimes so fast that it cracked before it even touched us. A couple swats I could take, but now... My brother, Dodger, had gotten suspended once for getting in a fight, and when he and Dad finally came out of the bedroom, Dodge couldn't sit at all. His face had been tear stained, and it was the only time I'd ever seen him cry. The bruises formed into blisters, and Dad made him stay home from school so as not to arise suspicion. And another time, my sister, Jessi, had to call home because she forgot to do an assignment, and when Dad was done with her, she had to tell her friends that she and me and Dodge had gotten into it and that we accidentally hit her. Damn if Dad ever took credit for what he did to us. I'd only been beaten once before, and that was when I came home at four in the morning after I'd been at a party. My back and butt were so sore the next week that it was all I could do to keep from crying every time I had to sit down.

"Mr. Thomas," I pleaded. "Can't you just give me a month of detention or something? Please!?"

"I'm sorry, Blaise. Detention won't cut it this time. You've gone to far." Man, did that ever shut me up. I ended up spending the next twenty minutes cowering in my chair. When people I knew walked by, I felt ashamed at the way I looked. My hair was matted with sweat, and my shirt was soaked in it. I was clammy, and I couldn't stop shaking.

When Dad finally came into the school, it was all I could do to not get up and run and hide in the gym or some classroom; the glare he gave me, and the 'you're in deep shit' look I got made me so nervous that I was sure I'd pass out, or wet myself, or both.

"Blaise," Thomas came back after talking with Dad for about fifteen minutes. "We'd like to see you to discuss your punishment."

"You mean that I get suspended and get another punishment?"

"You sure aren't going to just get off the hook, if that's what you're thinking."

"No, it wasn't." Yeah, it sure as hell was. Like I said, I'd never been suspended before.

It took me like five minutes to inch into Thomas's office. I was so scared, and the look on Dad's face didn't help at all either. Thomas made me sit next to Dad, even when I pressed myself against the wall as far away from him as I could get and still be in the room. I didn't understand how he couldn't tell that I didn't want to be by that man. It drove me nuts, waiting as they talked. My punishment ended up being three days of out of school suspension, and then a month of after school detention after that. I still hadn't stopped shaking by the time Thomas told me to go and wait in the hall again. The last bell of the day rang, and my friends filed by. A couple of girls stopped by on their way out, but I didn't even have the guts right then to try and sweet talk them. I didn't even think that I'd be able to open my mouth with out throwing up, so instead I just smiled and nodded my head when they asked me if I was in big trouble.

"See you around, Blaze," they said as Thomas and Dad came back out. I nodded again, but couldn't find the strength to look at either of the men glowering over me.

"Blaise," I made myself look at Thomas. "Let's not have a repeat of this incident. I want you here first thing in my office Monday morning. No excuses."

"Yessir," I said. Man, I'd never noticed the drawl, er, the "swagger" in my voice until it was gone. The words came out in a high pitched kind of squeak, just like it did when my voice was changing, and it sounded real funny. It still is, changing I mean, but it's not so bad now.

"He's all yours, Mr. Baker."

"Thank you, Mr. Thomas. If anything else ever happens, be sure to give me a call."

"It's nice, or should I say not?, to see you again. Behave yourself, Blaise."

"Yessir," I repeated. Dad waited until Thomas was in his office with the door closed before he started in on me.

"Blaise Matthew Baker. What in hell have I taught you about behavior?"

"Don't act up or I'll get whipped."

"Damn right." I flinched as he grabbed the neck of my shirt and hauled me up by it. "Get out to the truck and on the way home, you can humor me with the apparently hilarious stunt you pulled today."

Man, when you've gotta tell your crazy Dad what the hell you'd been doing that day to get you suspended, you knew you weren't in a good position. The story actually was funny, but when you're scared half to death, it don't sound so funny.

"Start talkin', Blaise. If you don't tell me the same story that Mr. Thomas gave me, you gonna be so sore that you ain't gonna be able to sleep."

I gulped. I hated being threatened, and it just wasn't my nature to sit and let someone have a go at me. It was real hard keeping myself from slugging that man. I hated him. I didn't just realize that either. I knew the first time I ever saw him hit Dodge. I'd been about three or four (I don't even know how I remembered from that long ago). Dodge had been about five or six, and he had gotten a C on his report card (don't ask me why, he's real smart, and usually helps me with mine even though he hadn't even taken those classes when he was in ninth grade). Dad had belted him so hard that the neighbors called and asked if everything was okay because he was screaming so loud. I hated him so bad, and Dodge had only just turned seventeen, so we weren't going nowhere for a while.

"Alright," I started, and went on to tell him about what I'd done. I got here early this morning hitching a ride from some guy on his way to town. When I'd got to school, they weren't letting people in, so I decided to kill some time by stirring up trouble. First, I hid behind some bushes and cussed a couple of the teachers out. After that, I stood by the basketball court and tripped the star players as they were getting ready to practice. But the real kicker was when I managed to put a couple of tacks on my science teacher's chair, and when I snuck into the typing lab and glued caps to all the keys on the typewriters. The noise was tremendous, and seeing how I was cracking up before it even happened, I was the prime suspect.

It sounded real stupid as I told Dad what I'd done. He got real pissed when I told him about cussing out the teachers because they had been girl teachers. I don't usually swear at women, but I was just high off of the change in season.

I found out that Dad didn't think it was only stupid, but it was terribly wrong. Apparently the story I told wasn't the "whole" story, so I got beat extra hard and long for it. After he was done belting me, Dad told Dodge and Jessi that they could talk to me, but I couldn't get up and if I started to cry to let him know (he didn't like us crying. He said it was 'a sign of weakness'). He picked up his keys and went out to go drink at a bar and play poker with some friends. As soon as was out the door I let loose a torrent of tears. Man, I had never, I mean never hurt as bad as I was hurting now. I'd been in a couple rumbles, and I'd been sliced down my side clear to my ribs, and I had never hurt this bad. I heard Bass, our Australian Shepard dog, squeal as that goddamn man kicked him on his way to the truck. As soon as the rumble from the engine had faded off, I stood up and yelled, "you goddamn bastard. I don't ever want to see your goddamn face again."

Man, I was mad. I kicked the wall and ended up with a sore toe to go along with my aching back and butt.

"Blaise?" I turned around Jessi was tearing up, too. "What's gonna happen, Blaise? What's going to happen?"