Take 2 - Part 31
by Cadillac Red
Disclaimer: The characters of Fox Mulder, Dana Scully, Walter Skinner, et al belong to 1013 Productions and I and will make no money from their use.
Spoilers: Some references to X-files mythology episodes.
Setting: Sixth Season. Many details and characters come from previous stories I've written.
Rating: PG. Discipline, no slash.
Author's note: This series was inspired by Xanthe's story "Red" and is loosely related to an unfinished work by Mangst and Xanthe called "Reset". I appreciate their generous approval to go ahead with my version of the same scenario. And in this chapter I owe a debt to Dswdiane for a scene that those of you familiar with her "Family Matters" series will recognize!
Summary: The trip to New York City brings Fox and Skinner to an important lesson.
The Wheatley Academy
Alexandria, Virginia
Saturday at 6:54 a.m.
Fox opened the door and sprinted from the car as soon as Skinner had pulled into a parking space. The older kids in the school were due to leave for New York City at 7 o'clock and the boy had been wired with anticipation since he was awakened.
"Fox!" Skinner called after him. "Your bag!"
"Oh, right," the boy said, giving him a sheepish grin. He opened the back door of the jeep and took out the weekend bag they'd packed for him. Skinner's was sitting on the seat next to it. The A.D. had been roped into accompanying the 50 kids and several teachers and other parents on the annual Columbus Day weekend trip. Fiona had finessed it so beautifully he couldn't be mad, or disappointed. And the truth was, he would not have felt secure having Fox go off on his own anyway.
Skinner took the Krispy Kreme Donuts bag from the console next to him. Then he got his own bag out of the back seat and slung it over his shoulder. Locking the car, he strolled up to where the two buses were parked and waiting. He dropped his own bag on the sidewalk with all the others lined up there, then walked up to Fiona Barefoot. She was checking something off on a clipboard and Skinner pulled a large cup of coffee out of the bag and handed it to her. Then he took the second one out, lifted off the lid and took a long sip.
Fiona's face had lit up when he gave her the coffee. "Oh you are an amazing man," she said warmly. "How did you know I didn't have time for coffee this morning?"
"I have ways of finding out things," he said with a mysterious smile. "Actually, I figured you'd be too busy and frankly so were Fox and I. We had donuts for breakfast. Not exactly a health-conscious choice."
"But good! At least once in a while!" she agreed. He offered his assistance and she gave him a job, being 'bus leader' for the first coach. "That way we can ride together."
He was pleased by that, although the term 'bus leader' didn't thrill him in the least. (This doesn't mean I'm the one in charge of roll call, does it?) But in short order, all the kids were accounted for and the two buses pulled out of the parking lot, barely ten minutes behind schedule.
The kids in the back of the bus cranked a boom box up right away and Skinner groaned softly. He got to hear plenty of hip-hop music lately, thanks to Fox's growing interest in the kind of music his current peers appreciated. But at 7:15 a.m., there was something ungodly about it. He could see the two women sitting in the seat across the aisle felt the same way.
Fiona took it all in stride, though. She walked to the back of the bus and chatted with the kids a bit. Then the music was turned down a notch and she came back to the front and took her place next to Skinner.
"How much longer till we get there?" he asked her in the best imitation of a whine the man could pull off. It was decidedly against his nature.
"Well, if we're lucky and don't hit any traffic, it should be about five hours," she said with a half-smile. The man couldn't whine if his life depended on it.
They made excellent time and were pulling up to the Sheraton New York at just past 12:30. The room assignments had been made on the bus and each kid had a tag to put on his or her luggage with their room number on it. The boys would be on the 18th floor and the girls on the 20th.
"And the 19th floor is our Demilitarized Zone, is that how it goes?" Skinner whispered to Fiona when he heard about the arrangements.
"No, the 19th floor is our best hope to making this a relatively chaste weekend," she laughed. "Other than putting them in separate hotels! And I've put you in the room by the elevator, so you can see comings and goings. I have the same room on the 20th floor. And there are parents or teachers in rooms by all the fire stairs, too."
Skinner was impressed by the logistical decisions she'd made. If he had to secure a hotel, he'd have done much of the same things. Only his experience had never required securing guests from getting into each other's rooms before. Until now.
They dropped the luggage at the hotel and headed to the Upper East Side by bus. That's where the Metropolitan Museum of Art was located and they had plans to eat lunch in the museum cafeteria. It was a noisy and chaotic experience but Skinner enjoyed seeing what a good time Fox was having. Then the group met their tour guides and headed into the museum proper. Three hours later, they'd seen the Egyptian wing, the American Wing and the European Gallery as well as several special exhibits. The kids were exhausted and they got back on the buses and went back to the hotel.
Their rooms were ready now and so they spent the next hour settling in. Skinner made a point of gathering the boys together in the hallway where all their rooms were located and letting them know the rules.
"Nobody leave the floor without telling Mr. Williams or me," he said nodding at the young Drama teacher who'd accompanied them also. They were the only men, so there was also a class mother stationed on the floor and Skinner included her although she was settling into her room at that moment. "Or Mrs. Ferguson. No one goes up or down the fire stairs unless there's a fire or some other emergency. They're alarmed, so don't think we won't know. And last . . . " he scanned the cluster of boys crowded around, looking them all in the eye. "Everybody have a good time!"
The boys dispersed, laughing. Fox was assigned to a room with Jarrod Kelly, Dylan Kane and another boy named Tyler Ashton. Tyler was the bespectacled, studious type Skinner saw immediately. And he was glad to see Fox and Tyler seemed to have a good rapport. Perhaps there'd be a voice of reason in that room. The other three were good-looking jock types and he could see the girls on the bus had their eyes on all of them.
He sighed as he went into the room to unpack a few things. Leaving his door propped open, he contemplated the dynamic he'd watched on the bus trip. Cat had hung on Fox the entire route, whispering in his hear, brushing the hair off his face, leaning on his shoulder for a nap. He thought her friend Delia was dating Jarrod, but she appeared to have eyes for Dylan, at least to Skinner's reckoning.
And Dylan Kane was a kid with very few boundaries in his life. His parents had let the 16-year-old have an unsupervised party several weeks earlier, one in which alcohol and marijuana were present. Fox had told Skinner those details during his punishment tour after being picked up by the police at that party. The A.D. had thought long and hard about forbidding him to hang out with Dylan but his instincts told him that would only make the boy more appealing in Fox's eyes currently.
(Who are you kidding, Walter? Even as an adult, Mulder couldn't wait to get to anything he was forbidden to go near!)
His phone rang at that moment. It was Fiona, telling him to bring the boys down to the lobby in ten minutes. They had dinner plans, then tickets to see "Saturday Night Fever" at a Broadway theater at 8 p.m. "So now I know what this 'bus leader' deal is all about," he told her with amusement. "I'm the wrangler for 24 teenage boys for the entire weekend, right?"
"And I can't think of anyone I'd rather see in a pair of chaps and spurs," she purred before hanging up. Skinner found himself smiling as he went to gather up his charges. Talking to her did that to him often, he'd noticed.
Dinner was actually quite good. They went to an Italian place in heart of the Theater District, just a block from the show. It served good, southern Italian cuisine family style and their group had a fine meal and just made it to the theater in time. Then the show itself was an experience. Not a classic Broadway show, it was based on the 70's movie with which all of the kids seemed to be familiar.
Skinner had seen the original movie once and not thought about it again in twenty years. "Whoever thought of making this a Broadway show?" he whispered to Fiona halfway through the first act.
"I don't know," she whispered back. "Same guy who thought Bee Gees songs would make great show tunes, I guess!"
Her musical assessment was on target but the show turned out to be entertaining nevertheless, the dancing was outstanding and the kids got into it all. They danced in their seats during the performance and then got up and danced in the aisles when the show ended and the cast came out to take its bows to the tune of "Night Fever." Skinner couldn't help smiling at Fox and the rest of them trying to disco dance. (When the 70's died, I thought it took Disco with it for good.)
Fiona leaned in close to him and spoke quietly into his ear. "I seem to recall you doing the hustle at Joe and Nora's wedding. Still remember how to do it, Walt?"
Skinner found himself grinning from ear to ear. "Well, it's been a while but . . . I think we could show these kids a thing or two." And they did, finding space in the aisle to dance along with about half the rest of the audience while the curtain calls continued.
After about 15 minutes of this, the cast and orchestra called it quits and they all walked back to the hotel. It was a cool, clear evening and the streets were crowded with theater-goers scurrying for their cars and hotels. The walk took about 10 minutes and by 11:30 they were back in their rooms.
After such a long day, Skinner hoped the entire crowd would be as weary as he but it took until long after midnight to get the boys into their own rooms and assure himself that they'd stay there. The last room he checked was Fox's and the boys were sprawled on the beds and chairs, watching TV. He raised an eyebrow but quickly recognized Fox was worried that he might tell them all to go to bed. So he refrained, simply reminding them that they had to be up and ready to go by 9 a.m.
"We're not gonna go to breakfast with everyone," Dylan told him. "We're just gonna order room service here, okay Mr. Skinner?"
Skinner had already begun to doubt the wisdom of letting Fox room with Dylan and now he was certain it was a bad idea. He shook his head.
"No, Dylan," he answered firmly. "You guys can call for room service earlier if you want to, but we're all going down to the breakfast buffet at 9 o'clock."
The boy tensed a little but then shrugged acceptance. Skinner reminded them they should try to get some sleep, then left the room, thinking that he was sure no one said 'no' to Dylan very often. If ever.
As Skinner shut the door, Dylan tossed a bed pillow at Fox who was sprawled on the chair in the corner. "So, Fox," Dylan teased. "Is your Dad doing it with Mrs. Barefoot, or what?"
Fox turned pink and tried to ignore the question but Dylan was persistent. "I mean, she's hot, don't you think? I bet they're doin' it!"
"I d-don't know," Fox stammered. "And I don't think you should be talking about Mrs. Barefoot like that. It's not . . . too nice." He didn't know if they were 'doing it.' In fact, he didn't even want to think about the possibility.
Dylan leaned back against the headboard and gave Jarrod a meaningful look. "Oh yeah," he said. "They're doin' it."
Across the hall, Skinner was attempting to relax but not let down his guard, a feat he'd never accomplished in any guard duty assignment he'd ever had. He knew from the noise level that most of the boys stayed up well into the early hours but by 2 a.m. the floor had gone silent. He drifted off to sleep shortly thereafter and woke at his normal 6 a.m.
Sunday was a whirlwind of activity, too. The Statue of Liberty first thing in the morning, then Ellis Island. Lunch at the South Street Seaport. Then they all headed uptown on the subway to visit the Museum of Natural History. Skinner thought privately that the idea of corralling and tracking 50 teenagers on the subway was terrifying but Fiona told him they'd done it before. They boarded the express train at the South Ferry station and all went well until they reached Grand Central Station. There the group had to transfer to a local train so that they could get off at the station near the museum.
The Wheatley crowd milled together on the platform, waiting for a #1 or #9 train to come through. One arrived a few minutes later and the adults herded the kids into the train. Skinner was mentally counting the 12 he'd taken primary responsibility for and saw that Dennis Williams was doing the same as they pushed the group forward through the open doors.
He realized quickly that Fox was missing, along with one other boy and began to look around the train frantically. Had they taken seats already?
"Mr. Skinner?" Tyler broke into his concentration. "They're still back on the platform. Cat wanted to buy some gum."
Skinner looked back onto the platform through the open doors and saw Fox, Dylan, Cat and Delia running for the train. The girls were laughing hysterically as was Dylan but Fox looked seriously worried. The doors closed as the kids were still fifteen feet away and Skinner felt the train begin to move. He saw the expression on Fox's face and thought for a split second that the kid might pass out.
Skinner went up to the door and looked at them through the glass pane. "Stay
here," he said exaggeratedly, pointing his finger at them. "Right here. Stay here until I get back!" The train pulled out and Skinner found himself praying his message got through.
"Well, now what?" Cat said, a note of delight in her voice. "We'll just have to figure out what to do on our own, I guess."
"Yeah," Dylan agreed with an evil grin. "What a horror, huh?"
They laughed loudly and Cat offered them each a stick of gum. "I didn't want to go to some boring museum anyway. What should we do instead?"
Fox looked at her incredulously. "We should stay right here. That's what my Dad said--"
"Oh, come on, Fox!" she answered in a teasing voice. "He doesn't really think we're gonna hang around here. . . " She looked around the station pointedly. "I mean, it's full of bums and homeless people and it's smelly and dirty. . . ."
Fox didn't think this station was any different than anyplace else they'd been in the city. There was one lone homeless person at the end of the station, bothering no one. "My Dad said--"
"Come on, Fox," Dylan broke in. "What are you worried about? We'll catch up with them at the hotel later. . . "
Fox shook his head. "I don't think that's a good idea," the boy said, not exactly sure he wanted anyone to know he was not willing to disobey Skinner. He was torn between what he knew was right and what everyone else wanted to do.
"You're not afraid, are you?" Cat asked him. "I've been in New York a lot with my mother. It's not that scary, really."
"I'm not afraid," Fox answered automatically. "It's just that . . . my D-- they'll be worried about us if we're not here when someone comes back. And . . . and I wanted to see the Planetarium next to the museum."
"Oh, God, Fox!" the girl said with dramatic gestures and a heavenward gaze. "I can't believe you want to do something so . . . lame! Well, I'm going shopping. What about you two?" She looked at Delia and Dylan pointedly and they both laughed and nodded.
"I-- I don't think that's a good idea," Fox said again. "I'm staying here--"
"What are you worried about, Fox?" Dylan asked him, slapping him on the back. "I mean, jeez. You act like Daddy's gonna spank you or something."
Fox fought to maintain an outward look of nonchalance. It unnerved him how close Dylan had gotten to his real fear. "Yeah, right," he said, shaking his head. "I just don't want to . . . worry people, that's all."
The other kids tried for another couple of minutes to convince him but by now Fox had dug his heels in. He sat down on a bench and crossed his arms. The other three finally gave up and headed down the platform slowly, thinking he'd probably change his mind and follow. When he didn't, Cat came back and made one more attempt to lure him. "I know some great hang-out places, Fox," she said, taking something out of her handbag "And I got us all fake ID's, so we can drink. What do you say?"
She held them out to him. They were photo ID's that looked like District of Columbia driver's licenses. The one on top had his picture on it.
"I have a friend who can make these with a computer program," she smirked. "I cut out your picture from a photo someone took for the swimming team. There's one for Dylan, one for Delia, one for me . . . and one for you. An early birthday present, Fox, from me to you. So we can really party!"
Fox was growing tempted, and he was flattered that she'd remembered his birthday was coming up the following week. He could see she wanted him to come badly and the longer he waited, the dumber it seemed to do so. He got up just as downtown train pulled into the station. The doors opened and Skinner sprinted out. He had gotten off at the next station and caught the first downtown train back.
"Thank God you're all still here," he said as he took in the sight of the four of them. "You kids have to stay with the group. We could have lost you for hours."
Cat quickly put the fraudulent ID's back in her bag. "We're so glad you came back," she gushed at Skinner. "We were all getting worried that we didn't understand your message right."
They got on the next uptown train and toured the Museum of Natural History and the Planetarium with the rest of the group. Fox was secretly relieved it had worked out this way and he and Skinner spoke quietly for a few minutes out of earshot of the rest.
"Fox, I'm proud of you for doing what I told you," the A.D. told him. "I know the others might not have wanted to do that." He'd seen the other two at the end of the platform, obviously heading for an exit when he arrived. And Cat was too sugary sweet in her gratitude. It had the ring of insincerity to it, he knew.
"I-- Thanks," the boy mumbled. "But if we did get separated, we'd be able to find our way back to the hotel, Dad. Honestly."
"I know you would," Skinner told him, cuffing him lightly on the back of the head. "Nevertheless. Stay with the group."
By now it was clear that a changing of the guard had taken place with respect to Delia Carlton. Jarrod Kelly seemed to be spending his time with some other girl in the class, and Dylan Kane had moved in on Delia. Skinner was struck by how fast these things happened with kids this age.
Dylan and Jarrod seemed to be avoiding each other, which couldn't be easy when you were sharing a room. And Fox looked like he was having trouble deciding how to play the estrangement between the two. He was friends with both of them.
They had dinner at a Brazilian restaurant with live music and a dance floor. It was a festive place that reminded Skinner of Rio. Or New Orleans during Mardi Gras. They had a raucous meal, and after dinner a cake was brought to the part of the restaurant they'd been given. It was covered with lit sparklers and read "Happy Birthday Fox." The live band struck up the traditional birthday tune and the waiters and the rest of the kids all joined in. Skinner could see Fox was truly shocked and immensely pleased that someone had thought to arrange it.
In fact, so was the A.D. He threw Fiona a look of gratitude for remembering Fox's birthday was coming up on Wednesday. After cake, and coffee for those who wanted it, they returned to the hotel.
There was one more stop planned for the next day, the Museum of Radio and Television. Then they'd start the journey home at 1 p.m. Fiona issued instructions to everyone to be ready to go at 9 o'clock in the morning, bags packed and outside their rooms. Then they all retired for the night.
Skinner was exhausted himself and he suspected most of the kids were too. He gave them all time to settle down and by 11:30 it appeared everyone was down for the night. So he took himself off to bed, too, hoping for a longer night's rest than the night before.
Across the hall, in room 1836, the phone rang at 11:45. It was Cat, calling Fox. But Dylan answered first and she told him what she was calling about. "Hey, that's an awesome idea, Cat," Dylan whispered, shaking Fox awake in the bed beside him.
"Wha-what?" the boy answered. He'd been asleep all of twenty minutes but he'd fallen into a deep slumber.
"Cat's on the phone. She knows a club that's open all night. And she has those ID's so we can get in. What do you say?"
Fox's eyes widened. "Are you kidding? We'll get in so much trouble--"
Dylan listened to something from the phone, then he answered. "Okay, hold on." He handed the phone to Fox. "You better explain to Cat why you're afraid to do anything. . . "
Fox colored deeply and took the phone. "Hi," he said quietly. Then he listened for a little while.
"It's not that," he said. "I-- I just don't know where this place is. Or how we're gonna get there--" He stopped and listened again for a while. Dylan was up and getting dressed, shaking his head.
"Who else are you gonna ask?" Fox said suddenly. Cat had hit on something that seemed to elicit a reaction like she intended. He hated the idea that she'd ask someone else to go in his place. "No. I guess . . . I guess we could go for a little while. . . "
The two boys dressed quickly, stopping only once when Jarrod woke and asked them what they were doing. He didn't say anything to Dylan but he whispered to Fox quickly when Dylan was in the bathroom.
"Are you out of your mind?" he said. "I've heard of the Tunnel. It's got a bad reputation, Fox. Your Dad's gonna go ballistic when he finds out."
"He's not gonna find out," Fox said, with more bravado than he actually felt. "We'll be back in a little while."
The boys opened the door and quietly snuck into the hall, silently closing the door behind them. Then they went to the elevator, pressed the call button and waited with baited breath for it to come. They met the girls in the lobby and left the hotel through the main entrance.
They found a cab and Cat told the driver where they wanted to go. It turned out she had VIP passes for the club, another gift from her 'friend,' and no one took a second look at the fake driver's licenses the kids flashed. Once inside, Fox was amazed at the sight and sound of the place.
Music blared in the dark club and people were jammed up against one another. The entire place was bathed in a red light that made everyone appear unreal. Dylan went to the bar and got four beers, handing them each one.
"Well, we finally got away from the 'field trip from hell'," Cat shouted clinking her bottle of Corona against Fox's. "I thought we'd be stuck for the entire weekend!"
"I was beginning to think so, too," Dylan shouted back, trying to be heard over the pounding music. They spent the next couple of hours dancing and drinking. Fox had three beers but what remained of his common sense kicked in around two o'clock anyway and he tried to talk the others into leaving and going back to the hotel.
"No!" Cat told him defiantly. "If you're gonna keep acting like such a little boy, I'm gonna find a real man." With that she stalked off to the dance floor to look for another partner. Fox followed her, trying to grab her hand.
"Come on, Cat," he yelled. "Come back. I'll stay as long as you want."
Which turned out to be longer than the boy could have imagined. He was exhausted and worried sick, and feeling ill from the effect of the alcohol but he fought off the symptoms and tried to keep up with Dylan, Cat and Delia.
Skinner awoke suddenly at 3:50 a.m. He saw the digital readout on the clock on the nightstand and wondered what had disturbed his sleep. Then a knock on his door told him what it was. He threw on a robe and went to the door.
Jarrod and Tyler were standing there, both in sweatpants and tee-shirts. "Is something wrong?" Skinner asked them immediately.
The two boys looked at each other guiltily. "Well, we don't know if anything's wrong but . . . " They explained in halted half-sentences what had happened earlier. And that Fox and Dylan had not yet returned. Skinner got the name of the place from them and sent them back to bed. Then he telephoned Fiona and told her the news.
"I'll come with you," she said quickly.
"No. I can handle it," he told her. "I just wanted you to know, in case there's a problem. I'll call you if I run into anything."
"They've probably been drinking," she said quietly.
"I know. I'll get them back here and drop the girls off with you. I don't know how you handle this stuff with other parents."
"Well, some of the other parents in question probably won't be surprised," she said evenly. "Good luck. And call me if you need me."
The Tunnel Night Club
New York City
4:25 a.m.
Skinner had flashed his FBI badge at the door and been let in and guided around by the manager. They'd already checked several private rooms and now they were back in the main part of the club. Sweaty bodies bounced up and down to the beat of a dance tune that Skinner thought had already lasted for fifteen minutes, ever since he entered the place. The manager had asked a female security officer to check the ladies rooms and she came up to them now and reported that there were two 'possibly underage girls' in the ladies room. They were sick and half asleep.
"And there are two boys outside the ladies room," she added. "Also 'possibly underage.'"
Skinner knew she knew for sure but was protecting the establishment from possible legal or civil action. All he wanted, however, was to get the kids back to the hotel. He instructed the manager to get a couple of cabs to the front door. Then he told the female security officer to get the girls out of the ladies room. "I'll handle the boys," he said with authority.
Despite his half-stupor, Fox's face took on a look of abject terror when he saw who was making his way across the dance floor. The A.D. gave him a brief hug, then squatted down and looked into his eyes. Even in the dim light, he could see they were bloodshot. And you couldn't miss the smell of beer on the boy's breath. Dylan was nearly passed out and Skinner hoisted him up from the chair and threw an arm around his waist. "Let's go, Fox," he said evenly.
Once outside, Skinner asked the female officer to get in the cab with the girls and accompany them back to the hotel. He prepaid the driver and showed the man his badge, just to make certain there was no problem. Then he got into the taxi with Fox and Dylan.
There was an angry silence in the back seat of the cab as they made their way back toward the hotel. Finally, Fox couldn't stand it any longer.
"I'm sorry, Dad," he whispered, trying to hold back tears.
"I'm sure you are," his father said. "And you'll be even sorrier when we get home. We'll talk later."
Skinner could see how worried the kid was though, and he reached over and caressed the back of his head. "Anything could have happened to you, Fox," he said softly. "We'll talk more about it tomorrow. After we get home."
The next morning, Skinner stayed behind at the hotel with the boys and another parent stayed with the two girls until check-out time. The four kids slept until it was time to go. The ride home was subdued compared to the ride up on Saturday, with all of the kids realizing something had happened. They arrived in Alexandria at 6 p.m. and Skinner and Fox made it back to their house by 6:30.
"Are you hungry?" the A.D. asked him once they were in the house. They had not spoken about the night before since the cab ride.
"No," Fox answered truthfully. His stomach was in knots, waiting for the ax to fall.
"Well, I want you to have a glass of milk then," Skinner told him firmly. "You've barely eaten anything all day. And that's not good . . . when you're hung over."
Fox flinched at the term. He knew without a doubt that drinking was an offense that brought severe punishment. And sneaking out. He took the glass of milk Skinner offered and drank it as quickly as he could.
"Wait for me upstairs."
Fox nodded tentatively, then began to walk slowly toward the stairs. He picked up speed as he approached them, then he took them steps two at a time and raced for his bedroom. Flinging himself down on the bed, he found himself in tears, dreading what would come next.
Skinner let him stew for about 15 minutes. He'd given this a great deal of thought and knew he could not allow the boy to get away with any of the behavior of yesterday. This felt like a crossroads and he knew he was the only thing that was keeping the boy from heading down the wrong road right now. With Cat. And Dylan. He'd thought about it long and hard and knew it was time to put his foot down about Fox's continued friendship with them.
He walked through the open door of Fox's bedroom and the boy sensed his presence. He sat up and looked at Skinner, his face tear-streaked already. Skinner's heart began to soften but he knew that would prove disastrous for this headstrong, impressionable adolescent. So he steeled himself to do what he knew had to be done.
"Well?" Skinner said, hoping the boy would take the opportunity to confess.
"I-- I don't know what to say," Fox said miserably. "I know . . . I shouldn't have snuck out. . . ."
"Then why did you?" Skinner asked him immediately.
"Because! Because everyone else was doing it . . . "
Skinner's hands went to his hips. "Stop. Everyone else was not doing it. Not even everyone in your room was doing it, son."
Fox hung his head at the correction. "I know. I guess . . . I guess I just didn't want Cat to think I was afraid to go. Or Dylan. . . ."
Skinner watched him for a solid thirty seconds. "You'll find, Fox, that that's usually the worst reason to do something," he said quietly. Then he began unbuckling his belt, slipping it through the loops in his jeans and doubling it over in his hand. He took a seat on the bed.
"Take down your pants," he told the boy and waited for Fox to comply.
"Please!" the boy pleaded with him. "I'm . . . I'm too old to be spanked! I don't want--"
Skinner's eyebrows rose and he pressed his lips together and stared at the boy. "Fox, don't make me tell you again. Or you will regret it."
The boy blinked and looked like he might protest again but instead he unbuttoned his jeans and pushed them down.
"Take them off," Skinner instructed him.
Fox wasn't certain why but the man's voice brooked no protest. So he did as he was told and found himself laying across his father's strong thighs a moment later. Skinner hooked a finger in his shorts and hauled them down to the boy's knees.
"What's this punishment for?" the A.D. asked him succinctly, delivering the first three licks to the fleshiest part of the kid's bottom.
"Oww! For sneaking-- Ahhh! For sneaking out!" he replied, already crying. "Ouchhh!
"Don't ever, ever, EVER, do anything like that again, Fox," Skinner told him, laying one burning stroke after another on the boy's backside.
"I won't... I WON'T! OUCHH! OHHH!" the boy responded, sobbing.
"And what about drinking, Fox?" Skinner asked.
"I'm sorry! Ohhh! OWWW! I'll never do it again. I promise!"
"And how did you get into that club, Fox?"
"Ahhhh! Unnhhhh... I used a fake ID! I'm s-sorry! Oucchhh!"
"Don't ever do that again either, Fox," his father said as he continued to lay one lick after another across the boy's backside and upper thighs. "That's illegal. And dishonest."
He gave the boy another half dozen strokes. By then Fox's cheeks were glowing a bright red and there was real heat coming off the skin. The A.D. knew from personal experience his backside had to be stinging mightily. He finished with another three licks, all laid right on the part of his butt the kid sat on. He'd be returning to school tomorrow with a still sore bottom that would make sitting through his classes a discipline in its own right. And that was exactly as Skinner intended.
Fox was sobbing with each stroke as well and when the A.D. finished up, he dropped the belt on the bed beside him and pulled the boy up into a hug. Do you know how worried I was when I knew you were gone?" he said softly into Fox's sweaty hair. "Do you know the kinds of things that could happen to you, when I don't know where you are?"
Fox sobbed uncontrollably into the man's shoulder. Skinner held him for several minutes, the boy kneeling at the side of the bed, the man embracing him and rubbing his hand up and down Fox's back soothingly.
"I'm s-sorry, Dad," he said finally, his sobs slowing down to intermittent hitches.
"I know you are," Skinner told him gently. "And you're gonna be sorry for a while, I'm afraid, son." He took the boy by his arm and brought him to his feet, then he marched him over to the corner of the bedroom. "I want you to stand there and think about this situation you got yourself into, Fox. And what the rest of your punishment should be."
Fox started to turn around but the A.D. lifted the back of his tee shirt and issued a stinging slap to his bare bottom as a warning. Fox immediately turned back into the corner and sobbed.
"Now I'm going to require you to hold your shirt up in the back, Fox," he said. "So I have a clear shot at your bottom if I need to give you any further correction."
"You won't!" the boy cried. "I promise!"
"I don't know if I can trust you right now, Fox," the A.D. said, positioning the boy's hands so he was holding the tail of his shirt up. "And I'm not willing to take any chances."
Fox laid his head against the wall and sobbed miserably. Skinner stepped back and surveyed the boy, his underwear around his ankles and his stinging, red backside uncovered in this way. He found himself remembering a similar situation he'd found himself in many years before.
His own father had only put him in a corner and made him display his punished backside twice. One time had been for drinking under age and Skinner had never done that again. The other had been for driving while intoxicated. And that was another thing he'd never done again in his life. So the A.D. knew this was an effective deterrent.
"I'll be back in a little while," he told the boy quietly. "And if I come back in here and find you doing anything other than what you're doing right now, you'll be back over my knee again before you know what hit you. I'll expect you to have good suggestions for the rest of your punishment so . . . start thinking!"
The A.D. came by the room several times over the next half hour and each time he saw the boy perk up and stand a little straighter. The next time he came by, though, Fox had slackened a little in holding up his shirt tail and Skinner strode over, raised it again and issued three stinging slaps to the boy's bottom.
"I want this shirt up, Fox," he said after the third smack.
"Okay!" the boy sobbed hurriedly. "I'll keep it up! I understand!"
In another ten minutes the A.D. returned and took a seat in the desk chair. "Now let's talk, Fox," he said. The boy began to turn around. "No. You stay right there. Facing the corner. I think it will help your concentration."
Fox turned back, lifting his shirt a little higher to make sure it was not slipping again.
"Now, let's talk about the kind of punishment you think you deserve for that stunt last night."
The boy hesitated for about thirty seconds and, in a flash, the A.D. was on his feet and delivering another swat to his sore buttocks. "I thought of something! " Fox said quickly. "I think, um, a punishment tour!"
"Okay," Skinner said, settling back into the chair. "That's better. And I agree. How long?"
"Um, two weeks?" the boy asked tentatively. No answer was forthcoming and he held his breath.
"Two weeks is not a long time, Fox, given everything you did. Try again."
"Three weeks?"
"That's better," Skinner said. "I think three weeks is good. What else?"
"A bedtime spanking?" the boy added, his voice almost a whisper.
"Well, that's part of a punishment tour, Fox," Skinner said. "I'm not counting that separately. What other punishment do you deserve?"
Fox felt tears coming to his eyes again. "I could write some lines, I guess."
"You guess?" the A.D. asked incredulously.
"I mean I should write lines. Five hundred lines of "I will never drink again."
Skinner smiled to himself. Mulder was always an extremist. "How about 'I will never drink alcohol again until I'm twenty-one.' That seems more accurate." (And will take longer to write.)
The boy nodded, hoping that would do it.
"Anything else, Fox?"
"Um, I don't think so," he answered slowly, trying to gauge what more the man might want.
"I see. Well, I think there's one other thing. You're not going to be hanging around with anyone much outside of school for the next three weeks because of your punishment tour. But I think you let Dylan and Cat lead you into making a really bad decision last night. Do you agree?"
Fox nodded but it was almost imperceptible.
"So I think we need to come up with a way to make sure that doesn't happen again. I'm not going to tell you you can't see Cat or Dylan any more. But there will be a cost to those friendships. From now on, when you spend time with Cat or Dylan during the day, I'm going to ask you to tell me about it that night. And depending on how much time you spend with them, we'll decide together how many whacks you'll get with the paddle."
"What?" the boy exclaimed. He'd made a paddle in the workshop in the garage, at Skinner's behest, a few weeks earlier. It stung a lot and he hoped that, with the thing hanging on the wall in the kitchen, the A.D. would forget it was a paddle and start to think of it as a kitchen decoration.
"That's right. We'll decide together. And I know I can trust you to tell me the truth, Fox. That's something I know about you, you're not a liar."
He let the words sink in, knowing that expectation would be a commitment the boy wouldn't easily break. It wasn't his nature.
The A.D. continued. "The whacks with the paddle will be delivered in the morning, before you go to school. So your stinging butt will remind you about the price you pay for choosing friends who try to lead you astray."
The boy was leaning his head against the wall now and fresh tears began to slide down his face. He was angry at himself for having gotten into so much trouble, and the punishment tour and additional punishments felt overwhelming to him at that moment. Skinner seemed to sense it.
He opened a drawer and pulled out a pair of Fox's pajama bottoms. Then he pulled the boy away from the wall and handed him the pajamas, pulling him into a tight embrace.
"It'll be okay, Fox," he murmured as he hugged the boy fiercely. "Believe me. I've been through this myself. It's a tough lesson to learn but . . . it's a good lesson to learn early. Choose your friends wisely."
End of Chapter 31