When I was growing up, my mother was always part of support groups in Tulsa for large families. There were about 10 families we knew in Tulsa that had anywhere in between 5 and 12 children and we’d all get together about once every other month. When we did get together it was incredibly chaotic, noisy, and stressful, but all of our mother’s bonded and the little kids always enjoyed having a ton of playmates.

The older I got, the more I resented these events. First of all, half of the families were weird. My family wasn’t exactly normal- I know that. For one, my parents were very strict and old-fashioned about discipline. Secondly, we were home schooled which stamped a “weird” label on us right away. We were God-fearing hicks like the rest of the families, but only to a certain extent. Our fame and time in Hollywood probably helped us be less weird than we would have been otherwise. I attribute the fact that my family doesn’t dress in overalls and tuck Bibles under our arm pits to our fame. It brought us into mainstream culture a little bit more, and that did us some good.

But the rest of the families were conservative Christian hicks who got together to pray every evening. Sure, my mother made us do a Sunday evening Bible study as a family, but we weren’t as intense as some of these families were. It seemed like the grown-ups were always trying to get us teenagers to get interested in each other too. Most of the families didn’t exactly condone dating at a young age (although my parents were always cool about it), but I think they figured if their children were going to become interested in the other sex they might as well make them interested in conservatives evangelists like themselves. I’d even say that I think some of the families favored courtships. I, however, had absolutely zero interest in the 15-year-old girls in plaid jumpers and Mary-Janes.

The truth was I torn between two cultures. There was one part of Taylor that was home-grown, God praising, respectful Taylor who was a well-behaved down to earth hick like the rest of them. Do you get that? And then there was the other part of Taylor that was into fashion and night life and Hollywood in general. Part of me loved girls with large boobs and tiny bikinis. At age 15, I’d tried cigarettes, alcohol, and gone farther with girls than I really wanted my parents to know. I was completely torn between two different worlds and yet I was so much a part of both of them. One day I’d be mingling with celebrities wearing designer clothing in Hollywood, and the next I’d be back in Tulsa in a pair of ripped jean shorts going to church and doing chores.

October 1998. We were home from touring and Mom was missing her large family group and so she planned a group camping trip for two nights about 30 miles south of Tulsa. We’d be heading out into the wilderness with three other families that had room in their schedules to attend. Including my family, there would be 26 children, but I’d been around more kids at once before and so I wasn’t that worried. I planned to spend the weekend just hanging out with my brothers and a couple of the other teenage guys who were less nerdy than some of them. That’s not saying much though. They were the kind of guys excited about getting to drive their father’s tractor and going on a family field trip to a planetarium in Texas, but they could be fun sometimes.

I don’t know when I decided that I would use the trip to corrupt them. I don’t know if I actually did decide, or if it just happened. I don’t remember sitting down and thinking it, but as soon as we arrived at the side by side campsites on Friday afternoon, I think that was when I decided. I think it was right after I was exhausted from being forced to do hours of physical labor.

The dads made us older boys all set up the tents. We had so many tents to set up and we spent nearly 2 hours getting them in place. There were two huge tents for all of us kids who were old enough to sleep in them. Each tent slept 12 people. And then each set of parents had their own tent as well and so we had to set up another 4 smaller tents. We were sweating and bored by the time we finished, and after all that my Dad had the nerve to ask me to blow up a raft.

“I’m out of breath,” I waved him off, sitting down on a picnic table covered in snack foods that the moms were unpacking. “Ask Ike.”

“I asked Ike to blow up another one and he is. Catch your breath and then blow this up for me Taylor. Everyone else is being helpful right now except for you,” he gestured to the masses of children who were collecting sticks, carrying sleeping bags, and handing out juice boxes to everyone.

I just about snapped when he said that. Hadn’t he seen how much time I just spent putting up the stupid tents until they were standing perfectly?

“What was I just doing for like two hours!” I gasped. “I just got done!”

“So did Michael and Jake and are they just sitting back and relaxing? Look a them. They’re carrying coolers back and forth while you sit back.

“Well I’m not Michael or Jake… am I…” I said through gritted teeth- glaring at the short-haired boys in plaid shirts who were lugging the coolers from the vans. I knew I would get a tongue lashing for saying it, but I felt I couldn’t help myself.

He gave me a pointed look and squatted down so he was at my level since I was sitting at the picnic table.

“Taylor, don’t you start with an attitude this early on. I’m not going to tolerate you giving me an attitude this weekend. This is a family weekend and I want a break. I don’t want to spend the weekend keeping an eye on you, so behave yourself without me having to make you,” he said firmly, thrusting the raft forward towards me. “I will not hesitate to take you over my knee if you’re going to smart off to me all weekend. Do you hear me?”

How could I not? He was speaking loud enough for everyone standing around the table to hear. I knew better than to continue fighting him though.

“Sure,” I said casually and resentfully took the raft he was holding out. As I sat there blowing it up and staring off mindlessly at the woods, I think that is when I decided I was going to cause trouble. Again, I don’t remember actually thinking it, but I think that is when my attitude turned for the worst.

I behaved myself for the most part that evening while we made a campfire, played games, and roasted marshmallows. Yes, I did shove Zac when he knocked my marshmallow off the stick and I sassed back to my mother at one point when she asked me to walk Mackenzie and some other younger kids to the restroom that was down a path. But I did do it. I behaved myself enough to get nothing more than annoyed looks from my parents as reminders not to be an embarrassment to their parenting.

Let me tell you something about the kids in this group: they never did anything wrong. I was used to being the well-behaved one around my other friends, but with this group the kids were so submissive! I used to be more like them when I was younger, but as I became a teenage I developed a rebellious streak like my brothers did that these other kids just didn’t seem to get. Sometimes I completely understand why my parents accredited our fame to our growing bad attitudes, because they looked around and saw these nerdy hicks compliant to everything their parents said. Sometimes I felt like my parents were tougher on us around these families in order to prove to everyone that we were not more of problem kids just because our parents had allowed us to enter the spotlight. In turn, I think we acted up more. It was a vicious cycle really.

The next day we all went on a hike. I liked hiking, but I didn’t like hiking with three dozen other people. The crying of toddlers and gossiping of girls sucked any sort of relaxation out of the activity. After about an hour of hiking we found an overlook to sit at and the moms passed out sandwiches and drinks. They gave us older boys permission to sit away from the group as long as we stayed close by. I sat with brothers Jake and Michael, who were 16 and 17 respectively, as well as my own brothers and looked down the small mountain as we ate our sandwiches. The rest of the group was several yards behind us at picnic tables in the shade. I could only see them if I stood up and walked away from the edge a bit.

“Looks like you can climb down there,” I mused, sliding closer to the edge and peering down the mountain. “See over there? I bet you could climb down the side of this. I wonder what’s down there.”

“Gee, maybe trees and dirt,” Zac teased, laughing at his own lame joke. “Maybe a rock or two.”

“Shut up,” I rolled my eyes. “It looks like it could be a cave.”

“A cave?” Zac laughed. “Taylor, we’re in Oklahoma. I don’t know how many caves we have.”

“Plenty!” I insisted, taking a rock and chucking it down over the edge of the cliff and watching it hit a few trees. “We have just as many caves as other places… you just have to discover them. Let’s go check it out.”

I shoved the final pieces of sandwich into my mouth and balled the tinfoil up, tossing it over the edge too.

“Taylor!” Michael, the older of the two, gasped. “Do you know how bad tinfoil is for the environment? Do you know how long it takes to decompose? One time my mom took us to a dump to learn about trash decomposition and it was a really long time.”

For those of you who don’t know, home schooling families can make any stupid activity into a field trip and an educational experience. One time when my Mom was pregnant with Mackenzie she was craving doughnuts during the middle of the day. She turned a trip to Crispy Cream into an assignment where we were forced to interview one of the employees about how you make doughnuts.

“Fine,” I said, a smirk forming on my face. “I’ll go get it and pick it up.”

They watched in horror as I lowered myself down the side of the mountain and began to jump down levels to get to the bottom of the steep edge.

“Mom said to be careful, Taylor,” Isaac gently reminded me. “She said not go climbing off the path. You heard her. She’s watched too many news shows where teenage kids are falling off mountains and dying… she’ll have a heart attack if she sees you down there.”

“They all told us to stay up here,” Michael added.

I shrugged as if I didn’t care, although I knew I was blatantly disobeying. Truth be told I was enjoying deliberately going against my parents wishes. I was 15 years old. I was capable of exploring off the trail and I was out to prove it.

“Taylor, come back,” Isaac sighed as I jumped down to a lower ledge on the mountain and looked around. I spotted not a cave, but a rock formation that looked like a little cubby. It was a mini-cave, I guess you could say.

“Told you there were caves,” I smirked at Zac although I was exaggerating by far.

He leaned over the mountain unable to see what I was pointing at from where he was sitting.

“I can’t see anything. You’re full of it!”

I crawled into the small cubby and ran my hands along the rocky walls. “You’ll have to come down here to see!”

“Mom said no-”

“Mom makes stupid rules,” I shot back, surprised by my own statement. “Besides, Mom is busy with everyone else. Come and see.”

Zac tentatively started down the side of the mountain I had just went down, grabbing onto plants that lined it and using them to steady his stepping. I just stood there grinning like a smug idiot. I was always the one who could convince my brothers of doing anything stupid. Of course, I usually paid for it and usually got them in trouble which always made me feel guilty. But that particular moment I was just proud of my persuasion tactics and didn’t care if we got caught.

“You’re being stupid, Zac,” Isaac muttered, usually the sensible one and at the time a fatherly figure to us. Eventually Isaac loosened up as we got older and Zac became more sensible than the both of us combined, but Zac was 12 at the time and seemed to be looking for trouble like me half of the time. He was at least looking for adventure.

“I think he’s lying,” Zac mumbled as he concentrated on bracing himself on the side of the mountain. “I want to see.”

“Of course he’s lying. He just wants you to come down there. You’re only going to let him get you in trouble,” Isaac sighed.

I stepped out from the little cubby and put my hands on my hips, staring up at Isaac and frowning.

“I’m not lying,” I insisted. “Lighten up, Isaac. Seriously. Have some fun. We’re stuck in this stupid campground all weekend surrounded by kids and bossy parents. We’re allowed to have some fun.”

Zac slipped a bit on the mountain and jumped down to the same level I was on.

“You two could slip!” Isaac gasped and then bit his lip in contemplation. “I’m coming down there and looking after you two.”

I snorted to myself as he began to crawl down after us, quicker and easier than Zac and I had. He tried to pretend he was just protecting us, but he was just as excited to explore as we were. Jake and Michael sat behind him finishing off their sandwiches and shaking their heads in disappointment.

“That’s your cave?” Zac smirked. “That’s like… a dent in the rocks.”

“It’s a cave!” I insisted, crawling inside of it again and ducking. “If I can fit in it, it’s a cave.”

“Remember how we shoved you in the dryer a couple years ago and you fit? Did that make the dryer a cave?”

“Yes,” I sassed back as Isaac ran over to us and inspected it.

“That’s not a cave, Tay,” he agreed with Zac but ran his fingers across the rigid rocks too, taking a step towards the edge and looking around at the side of the mountain that was still below us. My siblings are natural climbers. We love exploring and being in the wilderness and doing wild things. We were standing in our element and loving it.

“Okay, you had your fun, now come back!” Jake sighed in exasperation, looking behind him to see if the parents were anywhere in sight.

“Jacob,” I sighed and continued to climb down the mountain somewhere, looking for another platform or level to stand on and explore. The edges of the mountain formed natural rocky look-outs. “Dude, if you died tomorrow how much could you say you got to enjoy…” I looked for some form of manipulation. They’re very, very, very Christian, I reasoned with myself. Aha! “How can you let God create this… masterpiece around us and then just ignore it as if it’s not as amazing as it is? That’s an insult to our Creator himself. You only live once.”

“Yeah… and I wouldn’t live much longer if I did something my parents told me not to do.”

“Jake!” I shouted back, determined to let the sheltered boy experience a little bit of rebellion and freedom. “You’re missing out! Just c’mon!”

He sighed, exchanged an face with Michael, and then started down the mountain with us.

“Mom and Dad said to stay near the path,” Michael hesitantly reminded his brother of what he already knew. “They were being nice by letting us eat by ourselves… you’re going to break their trust by doing this, Jake.”

“They’re not gonna find out,” I rolled my eyes, answering for Jake before he could change his mind. I was witnessing the first rebellious revolution of this 17-year-old boy. I did not want Michael to talk him out of it and ruin my fun.

Before Michael could say anything back to me, Jake started to slip down the mountain- clearly not as used to climbing as we were. I could see my his life flash before my eyes… and my life. If he fell to his death I would surely die by my father’s hand alone. Oh shit…

Jake’s shoes gave no traction and he slipped down the mountain, grasping for plants and roots, right past the level that Isaac and Zac were standing on. Somehow he managed to brace himself when he reached my level of the mountain, digging his feet into the ground and pulling his body onto the natural look-out. I thanked God that he didn’t keep falling.

“You almost killed yourself!” Michael gasped from the top of the mountain. “You are so stupid! You almost killed yourself! Are you okay?”

My brothers and myself just looked at Jake with guilty expressions as he examined his arms which were bleeding.

“I’m fine,” he mumbled, wiping his bloody arms on his jeans.

“I’m getting Mom!” Michael called down, rising to his feet.

“He’s fine!” I called back in defense but Michael was already running up towards the picnic tables everyone else was eating at.

“Oh shit,” I mumbled. Jake shot my a look that expressed his disapproval at my language. “Okay… let’s climb back up and just… c’mon.”

The four of us began struggling to climb up the mountain as quickly as possible. I climbed up behind Jake, ready to somehow attempt to grab him should he slip again. I didn’t have a plan, but I figured I would at least try. Fortunately for me, he made it up the mountain to the very top with Isaac and Zac easily this time. I was just pulling myself up over the edge when his mother and our mother came into view. I could kill Michael- I sighed to myself.

“You’re brother is… an idiot,” I grumbled to Jake.

“He’s just concerned,” Jake defended just as I would of Zac.

“What happened!?” Jake’s mom- Paula- gasped, taking her sons arms and inspecting them.

“I slipped,” he said quietly, staring at the ground as his mother looked his scratches over. He wasn’t bleeding badly, but he’d been cut several times I could see. I did really feel quite guilty for it, but my pride wouldn’t let me accept that it was mostly my fault.

“We were sitting here eating and he slipped and went falling but he caught himself,” I filled in. Technically, I wasn’t lying. I was just leaving out details.

Jake gave me a nervous look- clearly fighting a battle between tattling on me and telling his mother what he’d done.

“I got dumb and decided it would be a good idea to go explore,” he mumbled, compromising and only turning himself in. “I’m sorry, Momma…”

“Where would you get an idea like that when you were trusted to come over here and eat your lunch responsibly?” his mother lectured.

Was it obvious that I had four sets of eyes staring at me? Apparently so, because my Mom raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms at her chest.

“Why are you looking at me?” I squeaked.

“How did I know you had something to do with this…” she sighed, and then turned to Isaac and Zac. “Isaac, explain.”

I hated the fact that she felt she couldn’t trust me enough to ask me. Had I lost that much of her trust? Had I proved myself I was that much of a liar… and if so when did I do it?

“Taylor wanted to explore so Zac and I went with him and then we convinced Jake to join us, and he slipped but we’re all fine… sort of.”

My mother’s shoulders fell at the mention of my name. She turned to me and shook her head gravely. Did I have guilty written across my forehead? How did she know I had initiated all of it! Why was I always more guilty in her eyes? Perhaps she knew her children too well.

“Did you convince them to join you?”

I sighed and glanced around. Well, I had to take the blame. I knew I was completely responsible for their corruption. I had pushed and manipulated and exasperated them. I couldn’t let them take the heat for something I was so guilty of.

“It was all me,” I mumbled. “I convinced them to join me… they didn’t want to but I… Mom I just wanted…”

But she cut me off. “Taylor, I don’t want excuses. Can I talk to you aside for a moment?”

I nodded sadly, at least thankful to not have to be lectured in front of them. I wanted to say ‘but they did it too!’ but I felt too guilty. It was my fault. She didn’t seem angry at me exactly, she just seemed frustrated by my behavior. I followed her a few yards away and looked up at her with nervous eyes.

“I want to know why you feel the need to establish yourself as a trouble maker,” she said, crossing her arms at her chest again and looking sternly at me.

I just stood there looking at her shamefully. She cleared her throat. Oh- did she want an answer? I had no clue how to respond to that accusation.

“I don’t know,” I mumbled.

“It’s like you have pride in the fact that you don’t listen to rules and that you disrespect your parents. I don’t want to hear about you convincing other people’s children to do things they’re not supposed to do. It’s one thing to get your brothers in trouble, but you’ve gone too far. They all make their own decisions and they should have known to ignore you, but the fact that you convinced them in the first place really upsets me! I’ve noticed a small attitude problem with you on this trip but it’s still fixable. Get yourself in line and we’ll all have a better time. If you want a spanking, then keep doing what you’re doing because it will work. I promise you. Test us and you will get what you’re asking for.”

It was a long and shameful speech. As she uttered the final words I felt completely stripped of any self-respect, but I think that was the point- to put in my place. I just hung my head and stared at the ground for as long as I could until I could sense that I had to meet her eyes and apologize.

When I had waited long enough, I looked up, clearly my throat and mumbled, “I’m sorry, Mom. I’ll stop.”

“You’ll stop what?”

“I’ll stop… misbehaving,” I sighed. I knew quite well it was a subordinate apology, but if I could get away with it then I would take full advantage of her mercy.

“You can go up and sit with everyone else where we can keep an eye on you. You’re gonna walk beside me for the rest of the hike. I’m going to talk to Isaac and Zac. Go on.”

I looked back as she went over to Isaac and Zac and began lecturing them too. I assumed she was implying what a bad influence I was and not to give into my sinful ways. I sighed. I was the family disappointment it seemed. I could see Paula giving Jake a tongue lashing too as she unzipped a backpack she’d brought over and began to put band aids on his arms. I joined the group of younger kids and parents and sat at a table across from my father. I knew that was what my mother meant for me to do, and I wasn’t about to get stupid and disobey so quickly. That was too risky.

My father gave me a distressed look but continued his conversation he was having without saying a word. It was more than obvious I had angered my mother for the rest of the hike as she made sure I was walking within arm distance the entire time. She even went so far at one point as to hold my wrist when I was lagging behind.

Later that afternoon I was sitting in the tent with a novel trying to block out the sound of kids running around the campsite and parents talking. How could they have that much to talk about? Allison, a 15-year-old prude, came into the tent and looked over hesitantly at me.

“I didn’t know you’d be in here. Can you close off the tent so you can’t see me? I need to put on a bathing suit and ummm…”

The tent was so large there was a zipper that came down and divided it into two rooms. Our families had divided the tents into older kids and younger kids, and then also divided each side by sex in order to keep everything appropriate.

“Go ahead and just change,” I shrugged. “I can just look away.”

“I know but… I’m just going to close this okay?” she said, reaching for the zipper.

“Wait!” I gasped. I stood up and looked over the long-haired girl in the plaid dress. Her parents even made her wear dresses camping. I had no interest in Allison, but I had a lot of interest in stepping as close to boundaries as I could. “How come you’re so uncomfortable around me?”

“What?” she questioned, pulling a modest swim suit out of a backpack and facing me. “I’m not… I just don’t want to change in front of you.”

“I’ve seen girls without clothes you know,” I smirked. I was partly lying. I’d seen boobs before, but beyond that was I clueless. I was a little boy really, but I was pretty convinced at the time that I was an experienced, mature man.

She looked absolutely terrified as she clutched her swimsuit over her chest. I began to feel guilty and bad and even… dirty for trying to mess with the little Baptist girl.

“Sorry,” I muttered, blushing and beginning to zip up the center divider. “Go ahead and change. I’ll just read.”

I sat and studied the cover of my book while I listened to her changing. It was awkward to say the least, especially because of our previous conversation. When she finished she unzipped it and stood there before me in her modest bathing suit. It had a skirt and was short-sleeve. It was hardly a bathing suit at all but more like a wetsuit. I couldn’t help but chuckle.

“What?” she frowned.

“You’re so… modest.”

“My mother is,” she smiled as she rolled her eyes. “Your family is more… modern?”

I nodded. “My mom can be sort of hip when she wants to be,” I smirked, unbelieving that I had actually admitted that. Compared to these families we were very contemporary- spanking or not!

She sighed and sat down on a random sleeping bag near me. “Yeah… not my mom. She believes the whole… wear modest clothing because God wants us to show off our faces not our bodies. I pretend to be happy about it.”

“You don’t agree?”

“I don’t know that I agree or not,” she paused and then added, “Did you know that my parents used to say that I should marry you one day?”

“We hardly talk,” I laughed. “I’ve been seeing you at these stupid things for what? Six years? And we never really talk. How could they want that?”

“Well they don’t anymore! In fact they wouldn’t condone it now-a-days!” she chuckled. “Now Mom’s always trying to get me to date Michael Wilton.”

I frowned as his name was mentioned. That… bastard… I thought in my head as I reflected back on his tattling only hours before. “Michael’s a pansy.”

She looked shocked by my statement.

“I’m sure he’s nice,” I shrugged to redeem myself and not seem like such a jerk. “But he’s as boring as shit…” I mumbled, loving the feeling of saying something so wrong in front of someone who would be so shocked by it. She was more shocked than my parents were. Maybe that was a sign my mouth was getting too dirty…

“No wonder my parents are pushing for Michael now,” she laughed. “Everyone sort of thinks you guys are big rock stars now and not in touch with your roots and faith.”

I rolled my eyes. “People love to assume stuff about us. We’re still the goofy, dorky long haired kids you knew six years ago, I promise you.”

She shrugged, “You seem different.”

“Just me?”

“Mostly you.”

I contemplated this and fingered the pages of my novel in my hands. “How?”

“You seem… different from the rest of us. I don’t know… more of a smart aleck actually.”

At first I liked that. I grinned.

“Is that what a hit album will do to you?”

I then frowned. Why was everyone assuming my attitude shift was because of my fame! I was not losing my nature because of one hit single! If anything I was changing because I was growing up and testing boundaries and learning who I was, but I was not changing or becoming spoiled because of stardom. Was I?

“Everyone assumes that,” I mused, shaking my head. “My theory is that I’m just 15 years old and doing what 15-year-olds do… but I’m beginning to wonder.”

She shrugged. “Michael’s a year older than you and he never did any of that… I don’t think at least.”

I rubbed my temples and sighed. It required too much thought to think about why I did what I did and where I was heading in life- what kind of person I was becoming. I only liked to think about that kind of stuff if my parents made me, not by choice. The conversation was forcing me to be way too thoughtful, so I changed the subject.

“So do you like Michael?”

“Nope. I don’t like anyone.”

“Ever have a boyfriend?”

She laughed. “I can’t date until I’m 18 anyway.”

“So you’ve never kissed a boy either…?”

“Of course not,” she shook her. “Mom says kissing is for marriage.”

I must have looked stunned because she laughed at my expression.

“I can see wanting to save sex for marraige… but kissing!?” I exclaimed.

“Taylor!” she gasped, glancing around the empty tent.

“What? I can’t say sex?” I smirked. “Sex, sex, sex.”

“You should stop that right now,” she shook her head nervously, but I noticed a suppressed smile.

“You guys are all so sheltered,” I shook my head in disbelief. “And sometimes I feel like a loser. But damn. Not around you people.”

“You can’t choose how your parents raise you,” she finally said.

I nodded. I understood. Boy did I understand. So many times I’d wished they would ground me instead of spanking me or scold me instead of washing my mouth out. I wished I didn’t have to go to church every weekend or have a bed time or a curfew or any of those things, but she was right. You can’t help what they decide to do. They’re the parents. They make the decisions.

“I can’t believe you feel weird about me even saying the word sex,” I smirked, trying to lighten the subject. “Don’t you and your friends ever talk about sex?”

“No and can you stop…”

“Do you even know what sex is?”

“Of course I know what sex is!” she gasped, blushing deeply.

“How about everything else?” I raised an eyebrow. Isaac always knew so much more than me when it came to sex and everything related. And so did most of my friends and so for once I was the knowledgeable one and it felt good to have all the answers. “Do you know what… oral sex is?”

“No?”

I laughed and collapsed into my sleeping bag as she sat there blushing.

“What is it?” she asked hesitantly.

I couldn’t believe I’d hardly ever talked to Allison before and there I was explaining sex to her. But it was fun and I felt cool and I could tell she was hearing things that she had never heard before and needed to hear from someone.

“Okay…” I spoke slowly. “Oral sex… is well when a guy or a girl… hm. Okay…” I tried to figure out how exactly to explain without blushing too badly.

Before I could sort out the words, a voice from outside the tent caused us both to jump.

“Allison, can I speak to you?” a woman’s voice asked. I knew it was a mother, but which one I couldn’t be sure. The look on her face let me know it was her mother. She looked terrified. Now they were really going to hate me. She gave me an apologetic look and crawled out of the tent to go talk with her mother.

When she didn’t come back for five minutes, I sunk down in my sleeping bag and read my novel, laughing about the situation I assumed was not a big deal at all. I found out that I was wrong when I heard my own mother outside of the tent.

“Taylor, get out here.”

I groaned, knowing I had been told on by Allison’s mother. That was the only thing I could think that I had done and so I dropped my novel and scrambled too my feet, unzipping the tent door and stepping outside. I pulled my sunglasses down over my eyes to protect myself not only from the sun but from my mother’s accusing eyes.

“What is wrong with you?” she said in a hushed yell when I stepped outside.

“What did I do?” I asked innocently.

“I hardly think it’s appropriate of you to be telling Allison the things you were telling her in the tent! Where did that come from Jordan Taylor? Why would you do that?”

“She asked!” I gasped. “She asked and I knew so…”

“I don’t even want to know how you know that!” my mother shook her head, clearly taken back that her 15-year-old son was not as clueless as she thought he was.

“I’m 15,” I rolled my eyes.

“Exactly! You’re too young to be thinking or talking about sex period… especially with girls who you know you have no business talking to about it. You know what I think Taylor? I think you’re just trying to see how many of my buttons you can push today.”

“I wasn’t trying to push buttons!” I gasped. That’s when it first hit me that perhaps I was subconsciously trying to corrupt the other kids. Why would I do that? It had to go beyond the thrill of it all. In three hours I had convinced Jake to disobey his parents and almost explained the meaning of oral sex to innocent Allison.

“You are really showing me you can’t trust me today, Taylor,” she shook her head angrily.

I groaned. I hated when she said that to me. First of all I loved my Mom and I had a good relationship with her usually, so when I heard her say that kind of stuff I felt so upset and hurt by it. Secondly, I knew it meant I would be attached to her hip for the rest of the day. As much as I love my mom, that is not a fun thing. She’s be reprimanding everything I did.

“Go get your swim suit on,” she shook her head, hardly able to look at me she was so annoyed by my behavior. I guess I hadn’t blatantly done something against the rules, but I had done something I knew in my heart was not right and not acceptable by the families around me. I guess I had stepped over the line on purpose too. “We’re all going swimming and you can spend the afternoon by my side.”

“Momma!” I argued, stomping my foot a little like a child instinctively. “Momma, I’ll be better. I’m sorry. I won’t even mess with any of them for the rest of the day. I’ll just talk to Ike and Zac.”

“That’s not how I want it to be!” she sighed. “I want my 15-year-old son who claims he’s so mature to be able to be around other people his age without getting them into trouble or giving them inappropriate sex talks! And if you can’t be around them without causing trouble, Taylor…”

“But Jake could have said no to me! I didn’t force him to follow me earlier!” I grasped for any excuse- any justification for my actions. “He’s just as guilty as…”

“This is about your behavior, not his. Get on your swim suit and plan to sit next to me while we’re at the lake.”

I crossed my arms at my chest and glared at her although I don’t think she could completely see, thankfully, because of my dark sunglasses. I was so angry with her. I didn’t want to spend the afternoon on a boring lake period, and to spend it with her and the babies!? I was furious.

“Jordan Taylor Hanson… if you do not get going right now…”

“I’m going,” I sighed. I disappeared into the tent, laid on my sleeping bag for a few minutes to sulk, and then put my bathing suit on. I probably also should have put on a better attitude, but I felt too spited to bring myself to do that. Was it so wrong that I gave the girl a sex talk? Someone had to tell her!

I must have sat next to my mother on the beach for an hour. She sat by the water in a chair close enough to the water that she could put her feet in and watch my four year old brother build sandcastles while she bounced the baby’s toes in the water too. The other mothers sat next to her with their toddlers as they chatted about herbal supplements for colds and weird stuff like that. There were no chairs left for me so I was forced to sit in the sand next to my mother, scratching at my legs and standing up to drain the sand from my swimming trunks every once in a while.

I watched my brothers and some of the older kids playing of rafts in the water. They hardly seemed to notice I was gone and I felt angry by it all. I felt angry at Mom for ruining my afternoon and angry at my brothers for not even acknowledging my suffering. I began to kick at the sand and flick it into the water out of boredom and resentment.

“Taylor, stop it,” my mom muttered although clearly distracted by the conversation.

“Can I get up yet?” I mumbled although I hadn’t completely expected her to hear me.

She did though and turned to me. “You know what I said earlier. I said you could spend the afternoon next to me. We’ve only been here for an hour. Get comfortable.”

“Now you’re just being mean!” I said out of frustration, kicking at the sand again and adding. “What did I even do that was so wrong?!”

I noticed how all the other Mom’s began to silence in order to hear my mother deal with me. It made me nervous because I knew she’d be tougher on me with them listening. She had to prove herself a strict mother around them.

“What did I just tell you?” She reached down and grabbed my leg, holding it firmly like I was just a preschooler like Mackenzie. I felt humiliated. “Stop doing that. You know exactly why you’re sitting here. You’ve been testing rules all day. You wanted to know what would happen if you pushed too far, and this is what happens. I have no sympathy to offer you, Taylor.”

“Then I have no compliance to offer you,” I muttered.

“Excuse me?” She turned to me, moving her arm to my bicep and yanking me to face her. I looked at her furious face and realized I had gone too far. I had something that was far too inappropriate.

“I’m… sor…sorry Mom,” I stuttered, looking nervously at her face and then even more nervously at the group of teenagers coming out of the water and heading over to us. Please go away, please go away, I thought in my mind. They could already tell I was being punished. Did they need to hear me being lectured too? I prayed they were still too far away to hear her angry words.

“I ought to spank you right here!” she said loudly, shaking her head in disappointment.

My body started freaking out and my mind was screaming no, no, no, over again. Absolutely not! She wouldn’t! She’s just trying to scare me! Rationally I knew my mother would never take it that far, but I was still scared. I was probably crimson too.

“Mom! Dad said we could all walk down that road just a bit and get ice-cream cones cause there’s a place!” he nodded at my father who was throwing a laughing Avery into the water with some of the other dads and kids. “Can Tay come?” Zac shouted out as the group of wet teenagers ran towards the shore. Zac seemed completely obvious to my trouble but the rest of them looked at me nervously.

“Taylor can sit next to me for the rest of the night as far as I’m concerned,” she said glaring down at me. Why had I said that? That was just so unacceptable in my family. I had told her to her face that I had little intention of being obedient. I don’t think any Hanson had ever went as far as to do that before. Why did I always have to take everything a step too far?

“He’s in serious trouble and no, he cannot go,” she clarified as they all stood around us.

I was so overwhelmed. I felt little and embarrassed and stupid sitting there next to my mother in my sandy shorts! I was blushing so hard and squirming out of embarrassment and they were all looking down on me and probably thinking just how pathetic I truly was. My body wanted to run and then fight and then hide and then lash out. I couldn’t sort out of my emotions and I certainly couldn’t find enough reason to make a good decision about my actions.

Suddenly I rose from my spot and began stalking towards the back of the beach. I didn’t know where I was going exactly- I just knew I was going anywhere my mother wasn’t. She was right behind me though and before I was more than 10 steps away I felt her grab me, whip me to face her, pull me to her, and then reach out and gift me a powerful smack on the seat of my bathing suit.

I could have burst out in tears right there because of the shock and humiliation of it all. I was supposed to be the cool one! I was the rebel without a cause who wasn’t afraid of parents or limits! I was supposed to seem mature and there I was getting a spank from my mother with everyone, everyone who seemed to matter, watching. I tried not to look at them standing behind her, but I could see their shocked expressions. The mothers turned around in their chair to smugly watch Diana Hanson discipline her naughty son, and my brothers and friends watched in disappointment. Isaac now held Zoe protectively and shook his head sadly. I believe most of the other kids were spanked too when they did something wrong, but I don’t think they usually did wrong things- or nothing bad enough that it constituted a spanking.

“Where are you going!?” she demanded.

“The campsite,” I said bitterly, yanking my arm away from her and stepping back. I don’t know why there wasn’t a red flashing light in my brain telling me to calm down and obey her. But I just kept testing her! “Anywhere that’s away from you.”

“You’re absolutely right you’re going to the campsite,” she said angry, grabbing my arm and digging her nails into my flesh. She held me tightly at her side and turned us back to the other mothers. “I’ll be back in a little bit. Taylor apparently needs to learn what is appropriate and what is not appropriate to say to his mother. Isaac you may for with everyone else to get ice-cream. Ask your father to look after Zoe for me until I get back from spanking your brother.”

If there was any question in anyone’s mind about how exactly she would punish me, they all now knew. I groaned inwardly as my heart began to pick up pace. With her arm still gripping onto me, she swung me around, slipped on a pair of her sandals, and began dragging me back to the campsite that was a five minute walk away. I hadn’t had time to put my shoes on so I winced as we walked along the gravel path, my mom not saying a word. I think that’s what scared me the most.

When we arrived back at the site she let go of me and nodded at a folding chair sitting next to the fire circle. “Bring the chair into your tent and I’ll see you in there.”

When she let go of me and began to walk away, I just stood there. It was stupid, I know. I was already in enough trouble but I guess I figured I’d already disrespected her. What was the good in suddenly behaving? I was determined to get out of the punishment somehow. I stood there feeling completely afraid and yet angry about my impending spanking trying to figure out how to escape it.

She turned when she notice I wasn’t doing what I was told. She seemed just as shocked by my defiance as I was. I was never that bad. I might resist their punishments some, but when a punishment was issued, especially for talking back as badly as I had, I usually submitted and took it. But I was still angry- too angry to be compliant just yet.

I could see her out of the corner of my eye take a big deep breath to calm herself. Finally she said in a controlled voice, “Get the chair and move it. Disobey me again and there will be consequences. You are getting the spanking you’ve been earning all day.”

“I don’t want it!” I cried, turning and facing her. “I don’t want to be spanked here and I don’t want them all to know!”

“I do not want my teenage son talking back to me in front of everyone,” she said sternly but still calmly. “You earned this. I’m not going to ask you again to move the chair.”

I think that is when the tears started to fall. They at least started to fall immediately or they just pricked my eyes and lingered until I spoke again. Then they definitely fell. I shook my head stubbornly. What was I thinking!? What was going on in my mind that was telling me it was a good idea to get myself in deeper trouble!?

She shook her head, disappeared into her own small tent for a moment, and when she returned she had the paddle in her hand. They had recently found the paddle when we were moving to our new house, and it hurt like hell, but I had no clue she would bring it. I couldn’t help but wonder if she brought it with me in mind. The thought made me sick to my stomach.

“You’ve earned yourself another spanking from your father,” she said as she took the chair in front of me and lugged it towards the big tent that we could both stand in without touching the top of it. “Get in here with me right now! If you disobey me again, I will add on another spanking and I will not stop until you learn to obey me!”

I stood there next to the fire circle just crying as I watched my mother put the chair inside the tent. There was nothing left to do. I’d already earned another spanking from my dad. I really had no choice but to follow her into the tent. I joined her with shaking hands and a quivering lip as the tears continued to fall. I felt so alone and afraid and remorseful and STUPID! Most of all I felt STUPID! Ridiculously and totally stupid!

She sat down in the chair and motioned for me to go over to her. I don’t remember deciding to walk over, but I just did. I guess I was exhausted of defying her and I just couldn’t help but give in both physically and emotionally.

She seemed to be relieved when I joined her side. She pulled me over her lap in one movement and then yanked my swim shorts down in back easily. I felt completely and totally exposed and humiliated. She wasted no time in raising the paddle and slamming it down onto my bottom. My mother was usually a more mild spanker and we usually preferred to be spanked by her, if we had to pick of course. But she was spanking even harder than my dad usually did. My tears kept welling up and tried to keep the tears from falling, squeezing my eyes shut and tensing every muscle in my body, but it did no good. The tears fell from my eyes to my cheeks and eventually hit the bottom of the tent. I was pathetic. I was 15 years old being spanked in the tent on a camping trip. It was so degrading.

I held onto her leg for support as she spanked my flaming bottom over and over again with the paddle. Sometimes she’d pause to catch her breath and it just made it so much worse because I couldn’t tell when the next spank was going to come and even worse, I sometimes thought it was over. After 50 spanks with the paddle, I honestly felt it would never end. I was a mess. I was squirming and crying, moaning out in pain as she made sure I was completely sorry. After about a dozen more spanks she dropped the paddle at her side and composed herself, trying to catch her breath.

I laid there battling feelings of humiliation and anger and guilt… trying to compose my breathing and my pride all at once. It’s hard to have pride after you’ve been taken over your mother’s knee, so I had little faith that I’d revive my self-image at that moment.

After a few moments she pulled my shorts up, pulled me to my feet, and stood me in front of her so I was looking down at her. She took my hands and held them in hers tightly.

“Taylor…” she sighed, shaking her head. “Where is the boy that I used to be so proud of?”

It killed me. There was nothing worse than knowing I disappointed and humiliated my mother. I wanted her to be proud of me. I always wanted her to be proud of me.

“I don’t know…” I mumbled miserably through tears, unable to form a complete statement.

“I used to be so proud of how polite and respectful you were. You respected me, you respected others, and Taylor… you respected yourself. Lately I don’t see any of that. You’re talking back, defying Dad and me, taking advantage and manipulating other people, and mostly… you’re not being the person I know that you are. Have a little respect for the true Taylor and stop covering him up with this defiant guy that no one likes.”

I began crying harder, reaching out to hug her but she wouldn’t let me. Not yet.

“No, listen to me,” she said calmly, squeezing my hands and looking up at me. “You’re trying so hard to impress everyone, that you only end up embarrassing yourself. You’re mature. I know you are. You think about mature things, you realize a lot of things some adults don’t even realize, and you have mature morals. I already know all that about you and you know all that. But not everyone can tell when you act the way you act. Sometimes you act like a spoiled child, Taylor. If that’s how you want to come across then continue this behavior. But if you want to show people how mature you are, then stop getting yourself into situations where I have to reprimand you and spank you. I’m not going to embarrass you just for the fun of it. It’s just as difficult for me as it is for you. If you force me, I will do it. But you’re the one who’s putting yourself into these shameful situations, Taylor. You’re so worried about being cool that you’re making yourself the complete opposite, hunnie.”

I nodded and released a sob, taking in her words completely and letting them soak in. I reached out for her again and that time she stood up and wrapped me into a tight hug, rocking me side to side as she hugged me. She kissed me head and rubbed my back and let me know that no matter how much I messed up, she still believed in me.

“I’m so sorry, Momma,” I whimpered into her shoulder and protectively held her soft hair behind her back to comfort myself. “I’m so sorry… I’m so sorry. I hate when I do that to you…” I choked.

She nodded and continued to rub my back in gentle circles. “I hate when you do too. You’re always going to make mistakes Taylor, but you have to work on self-control. When you feel yourself slip, pull yourself back up again. Don’t let yourself keep falling all the way to the bottom until you’re punished. Catch yourself before it goes this far. Learn how to take control of your own attitude.”

I nodded and stored the advice in my mind for the future. I needed it. I was clearly having a problem that I wasn’t doing a good job controlling. I had never really disobeyed my parents growing up. Sure I did something bad once in awhile but those were just stupid child things. But I hadn’t started talking back until I was 13 or so… and completely defying them was a relatively new thing. It scared me I could do so many bad things and not stop myself. She was right. I needed to learn to control my attitude not just to avoid punishments but because it was actually pathetic I had that little self-control.

Once my crying died out she kissed my forehead and took the chair and paddle from the tent. I stood there composing myself, wiping my sticky face and running my fingers through my hair trying to prepare myself to face everyone.

“C’mon, Taylor. We’re going to go back down to the lake now and you’re going to sit next to me and behave yourself this time. I’m going to speak to your father about your punishment tonight too.”

I had completely forgotten. Oh god. How could I forget that!? My stomach dropped all over again and I began to cry again as I stepped out of the tent.

“Uh uh,” she shook her head firmly. “I don’t mind remorseful, shaken crying, but no pitying. You know how you got yourself these punishments. I won’t have to you feeling sorry for yourself.”

I quickly wiped the tears. How did she know me so well? As we walked down to the beach I tried to calm myself down so I would appear as calm as possible. I had no “coolness” to salvage- I knew that. But perhaps I could look a little less pathetic.

Everything seemed the same when we returned. My brothers and the other older kids were sitting eating ice-creams, trying to fight away little ones who were whining because they didn’t get any. The mothers were still lined up along the water only my father was sitting in my mom’s old spot. He looked funny next to all the mothers holding a pudgy Zoe in his arms. I followed my mother over to him hesitantly.

“Did you steal my spot?” she teased, reaching out and taking Zoe from him and bouncing the baby in her arms.

My father got up and looked around, probably for me. When he laid his eyes on my he gave me a disappointed look and then turned to my mother.

“What happened?”

I hated when they talked about me when I was standing right there. I knew they talked about my behavior all the time, as they did about all of us, but it made it so much more embarrassing and real when you were standing in front of them as they did.

“Taylor was smarting off to me while we were sitting here… I told him he wouldn’t get sympathy from me for his punishment of having to sit next to me and he told me that I wouldn’t get obedience from him.”

My father glanced at me and frowned.

“He began to storm off so I decided enough was enough and took him back to the campsite to be spanked,” she explained. I wonder if she realized all of the other moms were listening and nodding approvingly. I hated that so much. “Taylor, why don’t you finish up and tell Dad?”

I was taken back and not prepared to face my dad. I began to shake my head and refuse, but I knew better.

“Ummm… when Mom took me back I wasn’t listening to her very well still so…”

“Young man,” my mother sighed. I was being vague and she didn’t like it. I was trying to escape what I had done. “Tell him the right way.”

I dug my feet into the sad and looked down. “Mom told me to move a chair into the tent so she could… spank me… and I didn’t do it so she said I’m gonna be spanked by you again tonight… but she did spank me anyway a whole lot… and really bad… and she knows how sorry I am. I am.”

He turned to her and she nodded to confirm my statement.

“I told him you’d give him another spanking tonight for his defiance when he wouldn’t move the chair. He just stood there and shook his head.”

My father sighed and glanced out at the lake. A wave of guilt suddenly hit me. It was supposed to be a relaxing weekend… and look what I’d done.

“If he earned himself another spanking, then he’ll get it,” he finally said sternly. “But it’s really unfortunate that he had to be so selfish as to cause trouble on this vacation.”

The words hit me like a ton of bricks. I’d already realized my wrongs and selfishness and immaturity, but hearing it from my father made it hit home so much more. I hadn’t caused trouble in over a month… none at all. Why had I waited until the one weekend my parents really just wanted to relax? What was my problem and why did I never stop to consider anyone but myself? My father eventually kissed my mom, told her he was sorry she had to deal with me (which killed to hear), and wandered off to throw a Frisbee with Jessica. I sank down back in my spot on the sand. Where had talking back and defying gotten me? Nowhere. I was in the same spot I started with a sore bottom, a looming spanking, and so much embarrassment.

That evening I was more than cooperative while we cooked hot dogs on sticks over the fire and had s’mores for the second night in a row. Instead of yelling at Zac, I cooked three marshmallows on one stick and gave him one of mine. When Avery had to use the bathroom, I actually volunteered to walk her. I even thought that I had impressed my parents enough that I might get out of the spanking. Where was I going to be spanked after all? Perhaps they’d decide it was too difficult to spank me at the campground and wait until I got home, or forget about it entirely.

I crawled into the tent around 10:00 at night with everyone else trying to pretend I didn’t remember what my mother had said. I wish I had just stayed out of the tent. It would have been less embarrassing.

As soon as I’d climbed underneath the covers and started conversation with Michael (who I’d forgiven) and Jake (who’d forgiven me), my father’s voice came from outside of the tent.

“Taylor, I believe you and I have something to deal with before you go to sleep.”

I tried not to groan, but I couldn’t help it. It was obvious by my demeanor that I was scared and I was not getting off easy.

“Dad,” I squeaked, refusing to get up from the sleeping bag. I was still hoping he’d just walk away and forget about it. “Can we just wait until we get home tomorrow…?”

The entire group of teenagers in the tent with me was quietly listening to every word I said, and I prayed he’d continue to stay vague with me.

“Taylor, outside right now. I don’t think you have a right to argue with me,” he said in a voice that implied arguing would only make it worse. Then, just to humiliate me it seemed, he added, “You earned the spanking on this trip, so you’re going to get it on this trip. Let’s go.”

My brothers sent me sympathetic looks and Isaac quietly muttered, “Go Tay.”

I tried to ignore everyone else’s curious but sad looks as I crawled out of the sleeping bag, stepped into a pair of shoes, and stepped over everyone to reach the door of the tent. I was red. Crimson. I could feel my cheeks burning and my legs felt shaky I was so embarrassed. But I tried to keep my chin up and my mouth quiet. I wanted to mutter cuss words underneath my breath or angrily unzip the tent door with a heavy sigh, but I knew it would do no good so I just obediently and silently did as I was told.

As I stepped out of the tent into the night, my father was standing there with his arms crossed at his chest looking as intimidating as ever before. It seemed everyone else was already in their tents except for one of the other fathers who was putting out the fire.

“Dad… I’ve learned my lesson. I promise. I’m not lying to you,” I said calmly as I stood before him. I tried to keep my voice steady and honest.

“I’m not sure that you have, Taylor,” he said louder than I wanted him too. “You were good tonight, and I appreciate that, but I have to wonder if it was just to get yourself out of your punishment or if it was genuine.”

The truth was it was both. I was trying to get out of the spanking, but I also was trying to be good because what my mother had said earlier hit me hard. I wanted to be respectful of everyone and be mature and I wanted to be proud of my behavior. I wanted my parents to be proud too.

“I guess it was a bit of both…” I admitted, not willing to lie or manipulate. Being anything but honest would set him off and he was my father; he could see right through me.

“Well you’re getting this spanking anyway. You earned it earlier when you defied Mom so badly. Let’s go,” he said, taking me gently by the wrist and leading me towards our van. At least it was relatively soundproof, I said to myself with a swallow as we approached it.

“I’m so sorry, Dad,” the pleading and begging began as we walked. “I really am so, so sorry for what I did. I wasn’t thinking. I feel horrible. I regret it, Dad… please don’t do this. I already feel embarrassed enough… and my butt hurts… please don’t do this.”

He was silent as he stayed firm and continued to walk me to the van. I took a deep breath to gather courage as he opened the back door and climbed in. This was pathetic. I was so bad that my parents had to discipline me in the van at the campsite. How did I let it all go this far? Why hadn’t I just sucked up my punishment in the first place? I could be chatting with everyone else in the tent if I had.

I climbed in after him and immediately closed the van door. I wanted this to be as private as possible.

“Over my legs,” he said as he sat down on one of the bench seats.

I stood, hunched over, and gave him one final plead with my eyes. The tears were beginning to form. I probably looked pathetic but I didn’t care. He just shook his head and pulled me towards him. I laid down in his lap obediently, finally, and he pulled my boxers and pajamas pants down in the back at once. I’d noticed he hadn’t had anything with him, so I was at least thankful I wouldn’t get anything except his hand… not that that was a walk in the park either.

Before I could analyze anything else, I felt the first smack come down hard on my backside. The spanking my mother gave me earlier suddenly came back into my mind and I juggled the humiliation and shame of both spankings at once. All of the feelings of each spanking merged into one horrible experience in general, and I found myself laying there crying wishing I had just behaved myself and made my parents proud.

With each hard spank the pain grew. I think he was hitting me harder each time, but it might have just been because of the spanking earlier that made it all hurt so badly with each additional spank. I couldn’t be sure. I didn’t really care. I just knew that it hurt like hell. Whimpering turned into crying and eventually I was laying there squirming across his lap as I sobbed.

“Dad… I’m so sorry…” I mumbled as the tears fell down on my cheeks and I rested my cheek against the van seat. “Please stop… I get it… please stop…”

He didn’t though. In fact each time I cried out something and begged him, he seemed to hit me harder. I tried to suck all the tears and pleas in and take it like a man, but I was just so humiliated and pained by it all it was too hard.

“Daddy, please!” I yelled at one point, accidentally reaching back and trying to cover my backside. It just happened. As soon as it happened, I moved my hand back before he could do anything.

“Taylor! You’re getting the punishment you yourself earned. Stop moving so much or it’s going to last longer,” he said in an exasperated voice and continued to strike my bottom until it was burning.

I tried to obey him. I stopped begging and I tried not to move, but the crying I couldn’t stop. I laid there crying on his lap until he must have reached 50 or so. Then he stopped and immediately pulled my pants up in back. It stung so badly.

“Get up and have a seat next to me, son,” he said calmly, pushing me softly so I would get up off of him. I peeled myself off of him, wiped at my wet cheeks, and continued to shudder as waves of tears went through my body. I hated it all. Everything about it… his anger, his disappointment, his shame in me. The humiliation and the degradation… not to mention the fact that I was crying like a baby! I felt ridiculous. Worst of all was the pain in my bottom. I sat next to him and tried not to wince.

“Mom said she talked to you,” he said calmly, “But I had some things to say too. I am so embarrassed by your behavior… I’m so embarrassed of the problems you’ve caused this weekend and the attitude you displayed. I’m usually so proud of how you conduct yourself during interviews, when you’re meeting people, around professionals… but then you do things like this and it makes me wonder if my son is the 15-year-old mature professional I thought he was, or just a young boy who can’t mind his parents.”

It hit me as I was sitting there. I had never thought of the idea before, but perhaps I didn’t want to be a professional. Perhaps that seemed too old and difficult and that put too much on my shoulders. Perhaps sometimes I wanted to just be my parent’s son… the son that could still be spanked and the son that could be naughty. Maybe I was too scared to grow up, and sometimes to a certain point I needed to know that I was still young and protected by my parents.

“Are you listening to me?”

“Yes,” I nodded quickly, wiping at my cheeks again. “I don’t know what I have to say about that.”

He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, looking out the window of the van and looking at the lined up tents. What was he thinking?

“Dad,” I said in a voice just above a whisper. I was surprised he turned and looked at me I spoke so quiet. “Dad… maybe I am both.”

“Both of what?”

“Maybe I am… a professional and a boy. We all have different roles… and… and different moods and personalities sometimes. Maybe I am both… maybe it’s too hard to be professional all the time and sometimes I just mess up.”

It wasn’t profound. It was simple. It wasn’t even worded that well and I prayed he’d understand what I meant… that I just needed the balance of them controlling me and me controlling myself. I was at the age in my life where I could manage my own life most of the time, but there were still times I was still a child and needed them too. I didn’t want them to see me as completely mature and self-reliant! I wasn’t ready to be that.

“I’m not… angry that I was punished,” I said quietly. “I deserved what I got. I know that. I want you to know… that I don’t think you’re unfair anymore, Dad.”

He nodded, just watching me.

“I agree with what you did… and what Mom did… even though I hated it all. Even though I think I deserved it, and you’d think I’d be able to behave all of the time… I can’t. I just can’t do it. I know for a fact that I’m not mature enough to behave all the time, I guess…”

I don’t think ever before I had told my parents I didn’t feel mature enough for something. I was always convincing them that I was mature enough to go to the movies with my friends or do my homework without being nagged. But never before had I laid my heart on the table and admitted my immaturity. It felt cleansing, actually.

“You sound very mature right now, Taylor,” he said quietly, reaching out and patting my knee. “But I understand you’re going to mess up every now and then, and I’m glad you understand you’re going to be punished every now and then. I’m glad we have that understanding with each other, because sometimes I don’t even think Isaac gets that. I’m proud of you for that. I just wish you didn’t get selfish and immature on weekends when the whole family just really needs a break. That wasn’t right of you.”

“I know,” I said quietly, the guilt of what I did to my parents weighing on my heart.

“But I’m not going to hold it against you. You’ve been punished… and it’s been fixed. I just hope in the future you consider how your actions affect more than just yourself.”

Fixed. I needed to hear that. Fixed. I studied my hands for a moment in shame before looking up and meeting his eyes. “I’m sorry, Dad.”

He sighed, nodded, and looked out again at the tents. “I know you are, Tay. What do you say we head to bed? We could both use the sleep.”

I sighed too, gratefully. I needed it more than he could imagine. I was emotionally exhausted from the entire day’s stress and worry. I felt horrible for the trouble I caused, torn about how cool I actually was, and humiliated by everything that had happened. Sleep was the perfect remedy.

He hugged me when we walked over to the tents, gently patted my back, and told me ‘good luck’. He understood just embarrassed I was of going back in that tent. He actually understood, and I was so thankful he at least got that. I carefully unzipped the tent door and sneaked into the tent where all the other kids were quietly talking amongst themselves. They stopped when I stepped in and everyone was quiet for a moment just looking at me. I ducked as I walked over to my sleeping bag, trying to hide my tear-stained face.

“Are you okay?” Allison quietly said as I walked past all the girls and climbed over to the boys side of the tent, kicking off my shoes and crawling into my protective sleeping bag. It felt safe and guarded me from so much embarrassment for some reason. I wasn’t sure if I resented her question or appreciated it. I think I was thankful that she cared, mostly.

“I’ll be fine,” I said quietly, laying on my stomach and sighing loudly into my pillow.

“Good,” she said quietly before going back to talk to another girl lying next to her.

Isaac, who’s sleeping bag was next to mine, nudged me.

“Seriously, you okay? Do you not want to talk about it or do you want to?”

I shrugged and pulled my messy hair out of the loose pony tail, letting it fall onto my pillow and protect me too.

“Was everyone talking about me?” I asked quietly as my cheeks began to blush again.

“Not really,” Isaac shrugged. “These people have been spanked before. It didn’t really seem like a big deal. Don’t worry.”

“But everyone knew where I was going?”

“Taylor, Dad flat out said it. Of course they did.”

I sighed. Damnit.

“Dad mad at you?”

I shook my head, “Not anymore. He forgives me. I’m not mad at him either.”

“You’re not? “he asked, surprised. Usually as sorry as I was after spankings, I was still usually pretty angry at my parents for them. I got over it usually quite quickly, but I was usually a little mad at them for having to give me on in the first place.

“Like Mom and Dad always say… I got what I earned. I was really fresh to Mom this afternoon and I wouldn’t stop. I knew what I was getting myself into… I just couldn’t control myself.”

Ike paused and then chuckled quietly, “You know… sometimes I think you’re really immature Taylor and you just try to act cool to cover it up. But then you say stuff like that… and I realize you’re a lot more mature… and well… you’re a lot more cool than I thought. And I think it’s really cool of you to realize that.”

I was cool? What? But the entire day’s events only proved how utterly uncool I was! Maybe I wasn’t the kind of cool I wanted to be. I wasn’t a natural rebel. Sometimes I misbehaved and before I got caught I felt cool about it. But in the end, I never felt cool as I was over my mom or dad’s knees getting a spanking. That was the least cool thing I could imagine. But maybe Isaac was right. Maybe accepting my mistakes and respecting my parents was actually cool in itself. Maybe my parents had been right all along… that I Taylor Hanson was cool without my attitude and without my sass. Maybe I was kind of cool just being me… and maybe that was cool enough.