The sun had set, turning the sky from orange to dark purple. The Riggins' boys rode along in a friendly silence as the warm wind rushed in through the open windows. Tim was slumped down in his seat, starting to nod off. After awhile, Billy looked over at his brother and noticed how young the boy looked as he slept.

Billy looked at the stars twinkling in the dark sky. The moon was bright, and the man remembered a moment when four-year-old Tim realized the moon followed him everywhere he went. No one in the family had the heart to tell the boy any different.

The man sighed. That had been an easier time. But now it was just him and Tim. Now he was raising a teenager by himself. When their dad took off, shortly after Tim's fifteenth birthday, it was a relief. No more drunken battles. No more cops showing up or loan sharks with baseball bats. For awhile, the brothers enjoyed being able to sleep through the night without any drama. Life without their father was peaceful.

But then came the first time that Billy got a call from the school because Tim had been fighting. Suddenly, he'd been a twenty-something parent to a teenager. It had not been an easy transition.

Tonight he was debating when would be the best time to enforce the trouble-at-school-followed-by-trouble-at-home rule. On the one hand, belting Tim today for getting paddled at school made sense because it connected with the boy's actions today with his immediate consequences. Billy also liked the idea that each day was a fresh start. He didn't like the idea of Tim having to wait a whole day for a whupping. On the other hand, Tim had already taken a paddling and a whupping today. Granted, they had been delivered about 12 hours before. Billy knew his whippings did not usually leave marks that lasted very long. Not like the punishments his dad had doled out. …Dammit… why did parenting have to be so complicated?

Finally, Billy pulled into the driveway and shook Tim awake.

"Hey, we're home. Help me put all this stuff away," the man said.

"Ok," Tim mumbled, pushing the truck's door open.

After they finished unpacking the truck and putting the fishing equipment away, Billy called his brother to the kitchen table.

"Listen, I can't decide, so I'm gonna let you choose. When should you get the whuppin' you got comin'? Here are your options: if you have no bruises or marks, tonight or tomorrow morning or tomorrow afternoon. If you do have any marks, you can only choose from either tomorrow morning or tomorrow afternoon. Whaddya think?"

"Tonight," Tim said without hesitation.

"Okay. Go change into your pajamas and we'll see if we can do it tonight."

Tim nodded and left to change. After 5 minutes, Billy knocked on the boy's bedroom door.

"Come in."

Billy couldn't help but laugh as he walked in. His brother's pajamas were at his knees and the boy was mooning him.

"I was just tryin' to see my butt in the mirror. Can't really do it though," Tim said.

"Ok," the man said. "You get your wish. There's no marks on your behind that I can see."

"Oh good, so now you're gonna put some there," Tim joked.

"Nothin' that lasts, I hope. Go ahead and bend over. Let's get this over with," Billy said, pulling his belt off.

Tim walked over to his dresser, bent forward and grasped the edge. He steeled himself for what was to come.

Billy folded his belt in half and swung it back, snapping it back across his brother's backside. The man tried to keep the force of the blows minimal.

Again the belt landed. Tim winced and held his breath. Two. The boy gritted his teeth as the next smack fell.

"Tim," Billy said. "You have a behavior contract." Whack, the belt hit its target. Damn, the teen almost let slip. He had not expected his brother to lecture him during his punishment.

"You had been doin' so well." The boy gasped as the belt lashed his ass.

"You gotta pull yourself together, ya hear?" Fuuuuuuuuuck you. Thwack, pain spread to Tim's upper thighs.

"You hear?" Whap.

Through gritted teeth the teen replied, "Yes!"

"Good. I don't want any more calls from the school, ok?" The belt landed with a dull thump.

"OK, Billy! I got it!" Tim snapped.

Whack, smack, thwack, three rapid-fire wallops sliced the boy's sore backside. The teen gasped, tears running down his face.

"Watch your tone, little brother." Three more smacks found their target.

"Please, Billy," Tim pleaded. "I'll be good."

"You better be." Three last licks left their sting.

"We're done," the man said, setting the belt on the dresser.

Tim stood, pulled his pajama pants up, and rubbed his behind. As soon as he turned around, his brother pulled him into a hug. Suddenly, the boy felt like crying again. He took a deep breath and tried to calm down.

Billy waited for Tim to finally step out of their embrace. The kid looked so young and so tired.

"You need to get some sleep. Don't set your alarm. I'm gonna let you sleep in. I'll call the school tomorrow and let them know when you'll be there, ok?"

"Thanks, Billy," the boy smiled.

"Ok, brush your teeth. Lights out in 10 minutes."

"Sure. Night, old man."

"Night, kiddo."