Eva joined our entourage in May when we set out for Europe. She was thirty years old and the wife of one of my father’s co-workers. She was nice, when she wasn’t reprimanding us, and I can’t say that any of us really minded her being on tour.

What we did mind was my mother’s “bag”. It didn’t have a specific title, really, but it was a bag larger than her purse that she carried with her everywhere. Inside the bag were your typical mother things like wipes for washing our hands before fast food dinners and band aids for injured children. But there were also the things we despised: a bottle of soap, a hair brush, and of course, a pad of paper.

My mother worked out a discipline method with my father and Eva the night before we left for Europe for the first time. It was very regulated, and extremely strict, as she knew we’d be running around all over the place and disciplining us would be twice as tough as usual.

My parents sat all 6 of us down in the living room the night before we left to explain it. It applied to everyone except for Mackie, who was too young to share the same rules as us.

They showed us a laminated copy of “Family Rules on Tour”. Isaac and I were snickering as we looked over it, commenting about how pathetic it was that my parents had gone through such efforts to make the rules seem so official.

“What are you laughing at?” My father asked us.

Isaac looked up nervously, afraid to disrespect them. “Nothing. Sorry,” he said, squinting at the rules to take them seriously.

“It just seems silly to type out all of the rules we already know. What’s the point? It’s stupid,” I sassed back to my dad.

He crossed his arms at his chest and cleared his throat. “You already know these, eh? Well I want to know why your mother had to spank you just the other morning because you were using inappropriate language. If you knew that rule, why did it happen?”

I slumped down in my spot on the couch, embarrassed to have my entire family looking at me and remembering my rather painful and humiliating spanking a few mornings before because I had muttered “goddamnit” when I dropped my pop tart on the kitchen floor. “Okay, I get it….” I sighed, tossing the rules off to Zac.

“We’re not going to give verbal warnings anymore,” my mom explained, “Because it seems no one responds to them lately anyway and everyone is just pushing and pushing to see just how much they can get away with. I don’t have time to remember who I’ve sent angry, warning eyes at and how many times.”

I don’t know if it was guilt that caused me to feel like she was aiming that comment at me, as I tended to be the most rebellious of my siblings, but I could have sworn she looked at me when she said that.

“So if anyone breaks any of these rules on this list, I am going to put a check next to your name,” she said, holding up a small notebook. “See look, this is tomorrow’s date at the top of the page and it says each of your names underneath the date. If you break any of the rules that you supposedly already knew,” she narrowed her eyes at me, “And see are on the list, then you get a check and it’ll say why you got one. As soon as you have five, you can expect a spanking and not to leave my side for the rest of the day.”

Zac and I, who usually seemed to get ourselves into the most trouble, looked to each other and swallowed. My parents were really cracking down. They meant business this time, and there would be no getting away with anything.

“Dad can add a check, I can add a check, and Eva can add a check.”

“But she can’t spank us!” I burst out. I couldn’t help myself. I looked panicked after I interrupted and closed my mouth immediately. “Sorry…”

My mother and father exchanged expressions before Mom said, “Right. She won’t be able to, but she can definitely tell us when we ought to.”

Almost just as humiliating.

“So wait…” Zac said, looking down at the list of rules. “For example, it says ‘No hitting/kicking/injuring family members’, ‘No leaving without permission’, and ‘No inappropriate language. Enough said.’ So if I punch Taylor, cuss him out, and storm off without telling you I still can’t get spanked? I just will get three checks?”

My parents sighed, again looking to each other. They were right. We were always trying to see how far we could push it. We were always looking for loop holes to get as close to the line of obedience and rebellion as possible.

My father cleared his throat, “I’m sure you could also get checks for maliciously hurting your brother’s feelings and slamming the door on your way out in that case, don’t you think? You know very well that you would be spanked immediately for all of that. All of the rules aren’t on that list. Most don’t need to be. A lot of those are rules that just apply to tour, Zachary, like no calling long distance from hotel rooms without permission and taking turns with the shower.”

Whether we completely understood the rules or not, we were forced into this new system the following morning.

I did well the first four days as I was in a wonderful mood and excited about being in Europe for the first time. It was the fifth day that I discovered how easily you could slip up so quickly.

“Isaac, Taylor, Zac,” Eva called as she walked into our hotel room in Italy at seven in the morning. We were all exhausted. We had been up until one in the morning the night before doing a late night interview in Rome. We were all dead asleep in our beds- Zac and I sharing one as usual and Isaac with his own. “Boys, get up and get into the shower. We need to leave here in an hour and all three of you need to shower.”

We all stirred, but none of us could force ourselves to obey her or even reply at all for that matter.

“Someone needs to get into the shower right now. If someone doesn’t, I’m going to pick someone,” she warned. She wasn’t a mother yet herself, but she seemed like she’d been nagging exhausted teenage boys for years.

I laid there hoping Isaac or Zac would jump up and get into the shower just to make sure I could have a few more minutes of sleep, but the next thing I knew Eva was pulling the covers from me.

“Taylor, get up and go shower. Make it quick and maybe you can sleep in the van on the way to the radio station,” she encouraged.

I yanked my covers back and pulled them over my head, muttering back at her, “Make Isaac first… he’s the oldest.”

We’ve always told Isaac not to feel like he has the most responsibility because he’s older than us, but when we can use his age to our advantage we do. I suppose it’s pretty unfair.

“Isaac has gone first almost every morning so far. I’m asking you, Taylor, to get up and be the first one to get ready.”

I was cranky and tired and I’m always so angry when I first wake up. Perhaps if she was my mother I would have handled it better, but she was just some bossy woman who I had met a week earlier! I guess my response to her was down-right rude.

“Leave me alone,” I muttered, “You do not want to wake me up right now, or I’ll be in a bad mood for the rest of the day, and you don’t want that do you?”

“Are you threatening me?” she asked.

I grabbed my pillow and pulled it over my head to block out her voice. She immediately snatched it away from me and tossed it onto the floor.

“I’m going to add one check next to your name for blatant disobeying. Get up right now and get into the shower or I’ll add another. I can make threats back, Taylor Hanson.”

I sat up sharply. That was not how I wanted to start my day! Oh, absolutely not. I didn’t see it as fair! I was so tired and I just wanted sleep and why did I have to get up and shower first while Isaac and Zac got to rest a bit longer! And I felt so babyish that I was being given checks for talking back by someone who wasn’t even my mother…

“Okay!” I snapped, “I’ll take the stupid shower. Just take that check back and I’ll do whatever you say.”

“You already have one that I won’t take back. Think about how you’re talking to me next time you speak.”

I glared at her and kicked the covers off my legs, standing up and marching over to the bathroom door. I was fuming through tired eyes.

“It’s sort of hard to think about what you’re saying when someone barges into your room and demands that you get out of your bed when you’re exhausted! You could have at least been nice about it,” I snapped back, stepping into the bathroom.

“That’s another check for talking back,” Eva said calmly which infuriated me to no end.

I slammed the door loudly and turned on the shower. A moment later there was a small knock on the door and Eva said quietly. “That’s three Taylor and you’ve only been up for five minutes.”

How had I gotten myself to three so quickly on such a long day!? I felt nervous for my poor bottom which would beg me, if it could, to calm myself down and behave. I felt embarrassed too that I had managed to myself into such trouble so easily. I pulled the bathroom door open and grabbed Eva’s arm as she was about to leave our hotel room.

“Eva, wait!” I gasped, holding my fingers onto her sleeve tightly. “I’m sorry! I accept the first two checks, and I’m sorry I slammed the door but I take it back and I’m sorry, sorry, sorry. I won’t do that again. I promise. Just two so far, please. I’ll turn around.”

My mother wouldn’t have been swayed, but my mother had known my tactics for far longer than Eva had and she was much stronger than the uneasy woman before me.

“Okay… I’ll just give you two so far, but stick to that promise,” Eva sighed.

I nodded gratefully before getting into the shower. Although I appeared appreciative, I don’t think I necessarily was. I stood there letting the hot water run down my back as I thought about how annoying Eva and her demands were, and how I would sass back in the future.

I made it through my interview that morning and a photo shoot at a local warehouse that afternoon without getting myself into anymore trouble. My mom seemed to notice my checks in her notebook that was tucked into her “bag”, but she did nothing more than send me a disappointed sigh.

Lunch time was difficult to say the least. We opted for pizza, as it was cheap and Italian and we all liked it. The trouble is, I was not in the mood for pizza at all. As my entire family, and a few of my managers and security guards, sat at a table in the small restaurant, it was growing increasingly obvious I was expected to eat the pizza with everyone else and be happy about it. As I saw it, I was making a thousand dollars, if not more, by the day for promoting like crazy, and I figured I deserved the pasta on the menu that I wanted so badly.

“Momma,” I said sweetly, looking across the table at her, “I don’t want pizza. Can I get lasagna?”

“We’re just going to make this simple and easy and everyone is going to get pizza. No exceptions. I’m sure you can get something like lasagna for dinner later tonight,” she reasoned fairly, although at the time it seemed 100 percent unfair and spiteful.

“But I just don’t want pizza. It’s not fair…”

She narrowed her eyes and said softly, “I’m not going to argue with you. End of discussion.”

I slumped down in my chair and chewed on my straw, which my mother glared at me for, probably implying that it was ill-mannered. I did stop that, but I made it very obvious to everyone at the table just how angry I felt.

When the waitress put three large pizzas down at the table, I refused to take a piece. I just sat there drinking my soda and stubbornly staring at the wall behind my mother.

“Taylor, take something to eat,” my mom instructed from across the table. “I know you’re still sulking about not getting what you wanted, but you need to just stop and have a piece of pizza. You’re the only one causing a problem about this.”

I hated her for that. She had introduced the problem loudly to the entire table, made me look like a spoiled brat, and had uttered the “s word”. I hate the “s word”. Sulking. How babyish it sounded, and my parents knew it. I think that’s why they used it all the time.

“Mom! I’m not hungry!” I snapped. Then I muttered, although I shouldn’t have, “Not for this at least. Don’t force me to eat something I never wanted in the first place.”

I watched in horror as she took the pad from her bag out in front of everyone at the table, who was half chatting with each other and half listening with interested eyes to my mother scold me. She took out a pen, put a check mark, and held it up to me so I could see the three checks next to my name. Beside them it said talking back, talking back, talking back. How had I managed that? I noticed my siblings had hardly any, except for Avery who had been throwing temper tantrums all day and I was convinced was minutes away from a spanking herself.

“Fine. But I still don’t want to…”

“Do you want another?” She snapped.

I couldn’t win. I had to just take a piece despite my resentment and force it down. I shamefully reached out and took the smallest piece of pizza I could find, and began eating it and wincing with each bite just so she knew how much I was hating it all. She gave me one of her warning looks and then turned back to a conversation she’d been having with our guard- Jason. The truth was, the pizza was good and I enjoyed it. I wanted another piece, honestly, but I knew for the sake of my pride I couldn’t take one so I just sat there staring off into space when I finished. I would be starving until dinner all because of my pride and sulking. Yes. Sulking.

After lunch we did three more interviews, which sounds overwhelming, but they were fairly manageable since the day before we’d had five consecutive ones in the afternoon. I behaved myself for all of them, mostly because my parents weren’t really around except for my dad sometimes who just stood off and let us handle ourselves on our own. It’s amazing how I can be so mature and grown up when I need to be, but as soon as I’m with my parents I’m a disobedient child again.

We all went back to the hotel after the interviews to clean up before dinner and just take an hour long breather. I know my mother was dying to give us time to sleep for a bit, but it just didn’t work into the schedule since we had school work to complete. She knew how tired her boys were, but she knew there wasn’t much to do about it. Exhaustion comes with a hit single.

I was sitting on my bed in the hotel room drawing in a notebook when my mother came in the room looking for Zac to go over a math test with him. I admit when touring got nuts, our education suffered. We still did a couple hours of school work a day, but it was never enough. We were all falling behind and my mother didn’t know what to do. It was either geography or sleep, and at that point, she saw sleep as a top priority.

“Do you know where he is?”

I shrugged, “No clue. He probably wandered down to the game room here or something like that without telling anyone.”

I guess I figured if I was going to have checks, other people needed checks too so I didn’t feel quite so pathetic about my status in the notebook.

“What are you working on, Taylor? Did you do those examples in your grammar book like I asked you to yesterday?”

I hated grammar. I could get my point across just fine without fancy punctuation, and that was good enough for me as far as I was concerned.

“Yes ma’am,” I lied casually, hoping to escape having to stop my drawing to do it. Truthfully, I hadn’t even looked at the page yet.

“Let me see.”

I should have known. I really should have expected it, but usually if we were confident in our replies, she didn’t ask for anything more.

I sighed and tossed my pencil down, looking up at her for forgiveness. “I haven’t even started…” I mumbled. I was moments away from being revealed as a big fat liar, so I figured I’d better fess up first.

“So you just lied to me?”

“Yes ma’am,” I sighed.

She pointed to my backpack angrily, “Get up, get your grammar, and sit at the desk and do it. I don’t want to see you up or doing anything unless until you can show me it is done.”

“But it’s hard…” I grumbled, getting up and walking over to my backpack.

“Would you like me to explain the lesson to you again?”

No! I understood it, and I suppose it wasn’t really that difficult, but I’m never great with grammar and it took time to think about each example, and I was lazy. The last thing I wanted though was to have to sit with my mom for another 15 minutes going over the same thing I had the day before.

“I’m fine,” I mumbled, flopping down in the desk seat and begrudgingly opening my grammar work-book to the page I had been assigned.

“I’m going to go look for Zac. If you see him, tell him I am looking for him. I’m also putting another check in my notebook for your lying, Taylor. You are on thin ice, young man. I suggest you do a 180 with your attitude right now or you’re not going to have a pleasant night.”

I just nodded, refusing to turn around and look at her. I pretended to act very consumed in my work, but as soon as she left the room I turned around and flipped her off despite the fact that she was gone. At first it felt good, but as I settled in on my school work I began to feel guilty. She hadn’t told me to neglect my school work and lie about it. In fact, I was lucky all I was getting was a check. My father might have given me a spanking for lying alone. I mentally took back the raising of my middle finger.

That night we were scheduled to do an evening news show in Italy. We were told we’d get dinner at the station where there would be catering. When we arrived, all I wanted was food. I was starving after the episode at dinner, and to be frank I didn’t care what they were serving my family.

When the van dropped us off outside of the station, there was the usual mob of screaming teenage girls roped off around the back entrance of the building. Zac and Isaac got out and went to shake some hands before they went in. They smiled, let girls run their hands down their arms, and signed an autograph or two. I knew I should, but I was just too eager to get inside, find the food, and relax before the show. It’s important to remember that we were always on the go when we were overseas. We never had a chance to rest, and so we craved times when we knew we might have the opportunity to.

I began to follow my family inside when I heard my father call out from behind me.

“Taylor, go shake a couple hands!” he said loudly, partly because he was annoyed with me and partly because the screaming was so loud.

My parents were always reminding us to be appreciative of our fans, rather than resentful and rude towards them, so I’m sure that’s why he said it. But I saw it as if he didn’t understand. Surely he couldn’t imagine how hungry and tired and done I was. I guess I never stopped to consider my father was on the run just as much as we were. In fact, the entire family was.

I ignored him, hoping he’d assume I didn’t hear him, but he knew better. He knew how loud his voice was been, and that out of all my siblings, I’d always had impeccable hearing.

“Taylor!” He shouted out to me as I stepped through the doors into the building. I would not turn around and greet the fans. I had already made my decision, and not only did I not want to see them, but I couldn’t let them see my daddy had forced me to be pleasant. If I was going to say hello, I would do so because I wanted to, and that just wasn’t the case that day.

As soon as he stepped inside too, he grabbed my arms and turned me around. He glared at me and searched my face, I think, for my intentions. I think he was trying to see if I looked spiteful or confused. I probably shouldn’t have pursed my lips so stubbornly and maybe I would have gotten away with pretending I hadn’t heard him.

“You do not walk away and ignore me when I tell you to do something!” he said firmly, “Go out there right now and shake some hands! Act appreciative towards the people who support you, Jordan Taylor.”

I knew he was furious with me, but I was furious with him. I felt like a scolded dog with my tail between my legs as I turned towards the door again. I wanted to protest and ignore his request again, but I remembered what my Mom had said about being on thin ice so I swallowed, pulled my arm away from his grip, and turned around to go outside again. I stepped outside just as Isaac and Zac were coming in. They both sent me disappointed looks, as it wasn’t like me to be so neglectful of the fans.

It was so obvious to the crowd of people as I walked back outside that my father had told me to. They’d heard him yell at me and I’m sure they’d seen him grab my arm and scold me some more through the open door. I felt ridiculous as I went over to the group, put on a fake, forced smile, and shook a few hands.

To say I half-assed it all would be an understatement. I must have shaken three hands before I called it quits and scurried inside after my brothers. My father saw and apparently wasn’t pleased with me.

He walked beside me when I came back in. I could tell by the clearing of his throat that he was getting ready to lecture.

“It’s embarrassing to see my son walk right by the very people supporting him so selfishly, and then it’s embarrassing to see him so blatantly disrespect me. I gave you a chance to go outside and fix it, but I can see you’re testing me tonight, huh?”

I didn’t answer. He was making me feel stupid and little, and I didn’t know what to say in reply that wouldn’t be considered talking back. I was too angry to come up with anything polite.

“I’m adding a check next to your name in your Mom’s notebook when I get a chance.”

I froze. But he would see I already had four checks, and his would be my final one. And the worst thing about it was he would probably give me the spanking, not my mother. That meant it would hurt a heck of a lot more. I nodded though, praying that maybe, just maybe, he’d forget to do it. Not so lucky.

As soon as arrived into the back room that was reserved for us my father went over to my mother’s bag which was sitting on a chair near her. She was sitting braiding Jessica’s hair and looked over when my dad reached for it.

I stood off to the side watching with one eye and eyeing the hot food lined up on the tables for us with the other. I rocked from foot to foot, debating exactly what to do.

“Who’s causing problems?” my mom asked as my dad pulled the notebook out and flipped it to the right page.

“Who do you think?” my father grumbled.

My mother’s eyes shifted over to me immediately. I felt pathetic that I was the first one she looked to. Growing up, I had never been the problem child. My mom always said Mackie had the worst terrible two’s and Zac was always getting himself into the most trouble as a kid. As I got older though, I had become the son who was always causing problems. In the two years prior, I had quickly become the misbehaved one in the family, and I didn’t like the title very much at all.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” she said glumly. “Because that’s five for him today, I believe.”

My father nodded, “I see that. I’ll handle him.”

No, Mom! Tell him you can do it! Tell him you’ll discipline me! Or rather, tell him you think I’m just really exhausted and it’s causing me to act up and I don’t need any punishment at all!

My father walked over to me in slow motion it seemed. I grew more and more terrified by the moment. Fortunately, the punishment was stalled when Isaac stepped in front of him.

“Dad, Taylor and I were talking earlier and we were thinking about playing Where’s the Love instead of MMMBop tonight. Do you think that would be okay? We obviously wanted to run it by you,” Isaac asked, completely oblivious to the fact that he had interrupted my father’s march to my bottom’s death bed.

“I think you should play MMMBop as it’s what people over here want to hear. They don’t see you three on television as much as the states do,” he replied, finally prying his eyes off of me and addressing Isaac.

“But Taylor was saying that he’s sick of playing MMMBop today, because we’ve played it four times today and we’re just… we were thinking about mixing it up,” Isaac sighed.

My father laughed and glanced over at me, “We’ll talk about this after we eat. Taylor doesn’t have much of a say in anything, right now.”

It was then that Isaac looked over and noticed my panic-stricken face. He knew that face well. It was the face of a fearful boy who was about to get turned over his father’s knees. He sent me a mixed look of disappointment and sympathy before walking back over to the catering and getting himself a plate.

My father stomped over to me and grabbed my arm. He looked around and began pulling me towards the bathroom in the corner of the room.

“Dad, give me a final chance!” I yelped as he dragged me, “I’m just so tired today, Dad! And two of those checks are from this morning when Eva woke me up and I swear I was half asleep, Daddy. Please don’t count that. Give me one final chance and I promise you won’t regret it!”

He wouldn’t hear it though. He just pulled me in and closed the door, replying angrily, “You knew exactly what was expected of you, and you made mistake after mistake. You knew exactly what would get you a punishment, and you’re going to get the punishment you earned. It is 100 percent deserved, and I think you know that!”

He wasted no time in sitting down on the toilet seat and pulling me close to him. I was too scared and so I couldn’t help myself from fighting his hands off as he tried to undo my belt so he could take my pants down. I was just panicking and I didn’t realize what I was doing!

“I’m going to actually use this belt on you if you don’t stop it right now!” he shouted at me, and I moved my hands behind my back immediately. It’s amazing how the threat of the belt can straighten me up right away. I hated that thing more than anything in the world, and I hated spankings with it more than any other punishment ever. I knew better than to keep angering him.

He was finally able to undo the belt and pants, and push my pants to the floor so they sat at my ankles. He pulled me closer to his side and in one movement, pulled me down over his legs.

I didn’t cry. You know why I didn’t cry? The truth was, I knew I deserved it. That’s what’s so incredible about the notebook my parents take on tour. You can see how all the behavior added up. As I remembered the five things I had done that day to earn myself the spanking, I realized that technically my parents could spank me for each one of them as they were all forbidden in my family. But they didn’t. They did understand we couldn’t be perfect, especially when we were so exhausted and worn out, and so we were given five chances really. What was I thinking begging for another chance when I had blown so many?

As he bared my bottom and I clenched every muscle in my body, I fully accepted the spanking. It’s rare that I do. Usually after I’ve cried, been lectured, hugged, and had time to reflect I accept it. But even before the first spank I knew I deserved it all, and my father was only doing what I had forced him to do with my behavior. It would have been so easy to not have talked back to Eva, to have been mature at lunch, told my mother the truth, or obeyed my father outside. I had just been selfish, stupid decisions, and I was getting the punishment I had asked for.

As my father’s hand came down on me for the first time in weeks, I realized the spanking would be quite severe. I had caused my parents a day’s worth of trouble, really, and my father didn’t seem to take it lightly. I was thankful he hadn’t brought the brush with him as that would have been both embarrassing and it would have hurt more, but he made up for it with his force and steadiness of his spanks.

I was strong and didn’t cry for the first ten smacks or so, but after that I felt tears release from my eyes and I began to whimper. I braced myself by holding onto my father’s leg as usual and finally gave in, relaxing the muscles in my body and just taking what I knew I deserved. My body was too tired to fight and my bottom was in too much pain to resist. After twenty spanks I was crying. I am proud that I wasn’t actually sobbing, just crying moderately. I was taking the spanking like more of a man than I had in the past, and I was quite happy about that despite how miserable and embarrassed I was.

I figured my father would stop after fifty spanks, as he usually did, but he just kept spanking my flaming bottom.

I couldn’t help but begin my pathetic begging.

“I’m sorry, so sorry,” I babbled as tears poured down my cheeks. “I’m sorry for it all… please stop, please stop. I’m sorry Dad.”

After another ten spanks or so, he stopped and pushed me up to my feet. I stood there before him looking at him with tear-streaked cheeks, hiccups, and a red hot bottom behind me.

“Look at this, Taylor. You’re fourteen years old, you’re about to go on television to play for millions of people, and you’re still getting yourself into messes like this. You’re always saying how critics and the media don’t take you seriously. I take your music seriously Taylor, and I see it was mature, I do. But sometimes I just don’t see any maturity in you. You need to grow up, son, and start learning to control yourself. You know right from wrong. Start proving it.”

It was a very powerful speech by him. It hit home, and it hit home hard. It was all so sadly right; there was no denying it. I did need to learn to control myself. Sometimes I couldn’t respect myself because of how bratty I could be. How did I expect my family, managers, and critics to respect me if I could barely gather respect for myself? He was very right.

I wiped at my tears and pulled up my boxers in the back. I winced as I pulled my jeans back up and carefully buckled my belt back up. As I fumbled with the metal buckle, I realized how lucky I was that he hadn’t used the belt on me after all. I deserved it, I was sure.

“Come here,” my father said quietly, opening his arms wide.

I stepped eagerly into them and accepted his embrace thankfully. I let my body relax as he hugged me and gently rubbed my back.

“Taylor, prove to me I am not ridiculous for letting my fourteen year old son travel around the world, interview on TV, and be responsible for so much. Prove to me that you can be responsible for your own behavior so I don’t have to feel crazy for letting you be responsible for so much more. Turn this behavior around now, son.”

I nodded and hugged him back. I would.

“I’ll try really hard, Dad,” I muttered into his chest. “I can’t say I’ll be perfect, but I’ll try harder than I did today, Dad. I promise.”

He believed me and even smiled. I was so thankful I was forgiven for all my actions. I knew though as we stepped out of the closet and I had to face the room full of family and managers, that the punishment wasn’t over. Sure the spanking was over and done with, but I still had the horrible humiliation of facing everyone. They knew exactly what had happened. They saw my red, tear-streaked face and had heard my pathetic whimpering as my father led my to the bathroom. For all I knew they’d heard the actual spanking too. You can never be sure, but I was sure my brothers would inform me later. Gee, thanks.

My father nodded at the tables full of food before he walked away to go talk to some of the men who worked at the television station. I hesitantly walked over to the tables and picked up a plate. I began to get food when my mother and our manager Chris came up behind me.

“Are you going to behave yourself now that your father spanked you?” she asked me without flinching at all. She took a plate herself.

I was so humiliated that she had said that in front of Chris, and she had to bring it up when it was over. I knew my parents did that type of thing to make us realize if we have embarrassing behavior in front of everyone, they would embarrass us right back with the punishment. But I was still irked nonetheless! I tried to gather some pride despite my flaming backside and ruddy cheeks.

“I don’t really have a choice, do I?” I asked quietly. I suppose it wasn’t the worst thing I could have said, but it certainly didn’t sound remorseful or obedient.

I was shocked, as I was putting some vegetables onto my plate, when I felt a swift smack on my already smarting bottom. I whipped around to look at her angry expression.

“I suggest you turn the attitude around right now, Jordan Taylor, or you’re going to be back in that bathroom with me and the brush! Do you understand!?”

That time she spoke loudly. The entire room had to have heard. I even saw most people turn to us. I wanted to disappear. It was humiliating. For the few people who weren’t sure of what my father had done to me, she let them know. Why hadn’t I just replied obediently? Why had I tried to scrape up some pride that I really just hadn’t deserved?

“Yes ma’am,” I mumbled, looking at her with pleading eyes. I’m sorry, Momma, my eyes were trying to say. I’m ready to behave. I really am.

She raised an eyebrow and then nodded at the trays of food, “Go ahead. You must be hungry. Keep getting your dinner.”

I knew she had understood my eyes, and I knew she trusted me. I can’t say I was perfect for the rest of the night, but I was pretty damn good. Like she’d warned before we left for Europe, I was expected to stand with her for the rest of the night when I wasn’t working. I sat next to her in the van back to the hotel, I stood next to her in the elevator, and she looked over one of Isaac’s essays in our bedroom while I got all ready for bed. She was out to make sure my behavior was exceptional.

At one point, in the elevator, I snapped at Zac because he accidentally smacked me with his backpack.

“Cut it out!” I yelled at him when he whipped around and smacked me in the side with me.

My mom responded by swiftly giving me yet another swat on my still hurt bottom in front of my family, and so I stopped my whining immediately knowing the situation wasn’t looking too badly, but it would get ugly as soon as I continued the bad behavior.

I turned to Zac and apologized right away, like I knew I was expected to. “I’m sorry, but can you just be careful?”

“Oh like you haven’t accidentally done those before Taylor! Shut up….” Zac grumbled. It was eleven at night and we were so tired we were grumpy.

“Zachary, you know I don’t approve of you speaking to anyone like that and I think I’ve heard you tell at least three people to shut up today. That’s your fourth check for today. I suggest you really start considering the way you’re behaving,” my mother reprimanded.

Want to know the truth? When I was brushing my teeth for bed and Isaac was already laying down with his eyes closed, trying to fall asleep, I heard Zac talking back to my mother from the bedroom.

“I don’t want to fold my shirts!” Zac snapped at her, “I like my shirts messy, and so I’ll keep them messy. They’re my shirts and it’s my suitcase, and so I want to keep it the way I want it.”

Within seconds I could hear Zac crying and babbling off apologies, and the sharp sound of a brush hitting flesh.

As I stood there brushing my teeth listening to my brother being punished, I found myself happy. It’s wrong probably to enjoy knowing Zac was getting punished to, but somehow it reminded me that I wasn’t the bad kid. We were all bad kids every once and a while, and yet that is not our essence but just a behavior we sometimes mess up with. I hadn’t turned into the black sheep of the family after all. I was gray, just like everyone else. I wasn’t an angel, but most of the time I was trying, trying very hard, to respect my parents and their rules, and I think deep down they were proud of me for that.