The truck arrived on Saturday morning at 8 A.M. It was huge.

“We have until 4 this afternoon to have everything that’s going to the new house in the van and the truck and ready to go. I don’t want to have to come back here this evening for items that was forgotten,” my father told all his children as we all stood around the living room in shorts and t-shirts, prepared for a long day of moving.

“Why couldn’t we have hired people to do this like normal celebrities…?” Isaac mumbled underneath his breath, causing my father to look up at me. .

Isaac rarely talked back, so of course, my father assumed I was the culprit.

“Ike said it, not me,” I informed my father. I felt bad turning him in, but I was not willing to take the blame for that one.

My father dismissed the rest of us to start getting the truck loaded and packing everything while he gave Isaac nothing more than a tongue lashing right there in the living room for his disrespect. Although Isaac was lucky he didn’t get anymore than that, it put him in a bad mood for the rest of the day which transmitted into Zac and I.

At one point I was crawling under my bed pulling out all the clothes, games, and books that had piled up over the years when I found Isaac’s long-forgotten “Bikini woman” poster. My parents didn’t approve of posters like that, but Isaac had won it at a carnival when he was 12 and had bonded to it immediately. He knew better than to hang it up or show my parents, but he had always kept it stashed in the closet to look at it when he so desired. About a year after he won it, Isaac and I got into a big argument and I had stolen the “Bikini woman” which we affectionately called her and hid her under my bed.

When Isaac couldn’t find her, I never confessed. I had completely forgotten I had taken her until I found the rolled up poster as I was cleaning out under the bed. Since I had taken her 4 years ago, I imagined Isaac wouldn’t be too angry and might be able to look back on it all with laughter. Stupidly, I unrolled the poster, grinned, and held it up.

“Hey, Isaac. Look at what I found.”

He looked up from the closet where he was sorting through old pairs of shoes.

“The Bikini woman! Where did you find her?” He gasped.

“I took her from you years and years ago when I was mad at you. I just found her underneath my bed. I’d completely forgotten that I had stashed her there.”

Isaac’s grin faded into a glare as he stomped over to me and ripped the poster out of my hands. “You’re a jackass, you know that Taylor?”

I was shocked. Four years had passed since the incident! Surely he couldn’t still be angry! It was then that I remembered his lecture and his horrible mood began to make sense to me.

“Jesus Christ, Isaac,” I sighed, “It’s just a poster.” v

Zac looked up from where he was packing up a box of books on the other side of the room, clearly alarmed by my choice of words. Next to the F word, Jesus Christ is the worst thing you can say in our household. It shows a very blatant lack of respect for God.

“You should watch your mouth, Taylor…” Zac warned, always the bossy one.

I rolled my eyes, stomping away from Isaac and kneeling at the bed again. “He swore at me first. Get on his case about it for once.”

“Still,” Zac rebutted, which only infuriated me. Who was the one who had just called his little brother a jackass just moments ago for something that had happened four years prior? That would be Isaac Hanson- not me.

“Shut up, Zac,” I sighed. I was sick of Zac and Isaac playing the role of temporary Dad when he wasn’t around. I never got on their case about the way they spoke or the things they did, but it seemed everywhere I turned there were my brothers pretending to be my father.

“I’m just warning you so you don’t get in trouble! Gosh!” Zac gasped.

The argument between the three of us wasn’t really anything at first. It was fairly normal for us to argue and bicker with each other, but it began to get ugly fast.

“Oh how very kind of you,” I rolled my eyes, always the sarcastic one in the family. “Thanks so much for looking out for me Zac. What would I do without you?”

“He didn’t do anything that earned him your distasteful sarcasm…” Isaac muttered.

“And I didn’t do anything that earned me your abhorrent bad mood,” I spat back, crawling under the bed again. I noticed one of Isaac’s old ratty stuffed animals and yanked it out, sitting up and looking at Isaac.

When he wasn’t looking, I smiled to myself and said, “Hey Isaac. Since you seem so possessive over all of your old stuff, take this too,” I said across the room to him, chucking the stuffed animal at him and nailing him in the side of the head.

His eyes darted at me immediately and his jaw tightened, “You better knock it off Taylor… or I swear…”

“You swear what?” I raised an eyebrow.

“I’ll hurt you.”

“Awww… Isaac is trying to threaten me, Zac. How cute,” I smirked, crawling back under the bed to pull out more old treasures. Only as I reached under, I felt someone kick me from behind. I gasped in pain as his foot burst between my legs and nailed me in the balls.

Isaac realized his mistake as soon as my body clenched and my breathing stopped. I struggled to breathe again, trying to recover from the kick.

“That was really stupid, Isaac!” Zac shouted at him.

“I didn’t mean to, Taylor,” Isaac mumbled, standing there sheepishly next to him.

When I had regained control and was able to put the pain out of my mind temporarily, I rose to my foot and knocked Isaac to the ground, jumping on top of him and wrestling him to the ground so I could punch him where he just kicked me.

“Guys don’t do that to other guys!” I gasped as I struggled against him.

“Taylor, he didn’t mean to kick you there!” Zac said, jumping up from his spot and trying to grab me.

“You want to know how that felt!?” I screamed at Isaac, sitting on top of him and trying to grab his flailing arms so I could hit him where I wanted to.

We never physically fought. Okay, so we did. But only every few months. But somehow in between Isaac’s bad mood, Zac’s yappy comments, and my annoyance with the entire day’s chores, we found ourselves angrily wrestling on the bedroom floor.

“Jordan Taylor Hanson!” my fathers voice halted us from the doorway of the bedroom, “Get off of him now!”

He stepped over to us to yank me off, but I already stopped and was crawling off Isaac. All it took was the voice of my father to get me under control.

I stood up before my father and with emerging tears in my eyes pointed at Isaac, “He kicked me, Dad! He kicked me you know where on purpose!”

“I didn’t do it on purpose! I didn’t mean to kick him there!” Isaac shouted back, sitting up from his crumpled position on the floor and looking at my father desperately.

“He still meant to kick me!” I cried, biting my lips and holding back threatening tears. I had hardly even taken time to process the pain from Isaac’s kick, and it was all hitting me at once.

I was relieved when my father glared at Isaac for once instead of me.

“He was teasing me…” Isaac mumbled, staring at the floor the entire time.

My father turned towards the doorway and sighed heavily, resting his forehead against the frame. He looked exhausted. I knew how much the move was stressing him out, and we weren’t making it any easier. This wasn’t a clear black and white, he’s wrong and he’s not situation either. Even though Isaac was the one who had kicked me, he had walked in on me attacking Isaac.

“They both were being stupid…” Zac muttered, resuming his spot at the box he was packing up.

Isaac and I sent him mutual nasty looks. He wasn’t helping matters. That was for sure.

“Isaac,” my father sighed, “What got into you? You’re 17 years old for crying out loud.”

Isaac’s shoulders sunk in shame. I imagined he was worried he might get spanked for something so juvenile at age 17. This was his second lecture of the day, afterall.

“I was counting on you to help Taylor and Zac get this room packed up and everything ready by 4, and it’s not even 9 and this is how you’re acting? Did nothing I said to you in the living room matter? Did you listen to a word I said?”

“I’m sorry Dad…” He mumbled, still staring at the floor. “I’m just in a bad mood, and I took it out on Tay…”

I stood there contemplating whether or not he really meant it, and would apologize to me when my father left, or if he was just saying it to please my father and get himself out of trouble.

My father turned to me. “Are you okay?”

I nodded, but I tried to look extra innocent and vulnerable, glaring quickly at the big, bad Isaac so my father would pity me and punish Isaac.

“Stay off of your brother, and don’t talk to him unless you have something nice to say. If Isaac is giving you a hard time, leave the room and work somewhere else. It’s not appropriate for you to be jumping on top of him. Do you understand?”

“But Dad, he-”

“Do you want a spanking?” he roared.

I was shocked. Out of nowhere he just tossed that threat out. He clearly wasn’t messing around. I sighed. I was stupid. I should have just replied obediently like Isaac had, even though the entire situation was all Isaac’s fault. I felt ridiculous standing there before my father having to answer that question.

“No sir. I’ll behave.”

He sighed and looked around at the three of us with a weary expression. “I don’t know who to punish, how to punish… boys I don’t have the time to spend punishing you right now. But I can promise you, you are all three on thin ice now.”

Zac looked up nervously, “I didn’t do anything!”

“I don’t care,” my father sighed, “This entire room seems to be asking for spankings this morning and if you boys keep it up, you’ll get the punishment you deserve. Any bad moves, and I’ll take you over my knee. Understood?”

We all stared at him without saying anything. I think we were all still to resentful at each other to anything. I was angry at Isaac for getting me in trouble and kicking me. Isaac was apparently mad at me for whatever he could find to be mad at me for- including the fact that I stole his poster four years earlier. And Zac… well I’m assuming Zac was fuming we’d somehow managed to drag him into our attitude problems as well.

“Understood?” he said louder.

We all nodded and recited mutually, “Yes sir.” With a warning look, he turned and left the room.

When he left, Isaac peeled himself off the floor and returned to the closet without looking at Zac and me. I returned to my post silently, but Zac wasn’t quite so quiet.

“Thanks a lot,” he muttered, “Your stupidity has Dad watching me like a hawk now too and I didn’t even do anything wrong!”

“Poor baby,” I muttered, crawling under the bed. I didn’t feel bad for Zac. I was in the exact same situation as him, because it was Isaac’s bad mood that had gotten me yelled at.

“Sorry, Zac,” Isaac sighed. He was always better about recovering from attitudes than me. Once I was angry, that was the end. My attitude usually wouldn’t change until I messed up enough to be punished for it. Whether or not it was just a really, really long and painful lecture, or an actual spanking, it took a lot to get me to turn my attitude around.

I could feel Zac’s angry eyes on me as I crawled under the bed and continued clearing it out.

“You’re a jerk sometimes, Taylor…” Zac muttered.

I knew better than to stay in the room. There was so much angry energy in the room, I could tell we were all just itching for another fight because it wasn’t over. I wisely pried myself out from under the bed and stormed out the room, wandering downstairs to help my mother pack up in the kitchen like my father had suggested.

It was a good distraction for me, wrapping plates in newspaper like I was told. My mother could sense I had an attitude, but for the most part she left me alone to cool down. I guess that’s what she expected would happen, at least. I spent the rest of the afternoon helping my family do things around the house rather than packing up in my bedroom. My brothers were annoying me too much, and I refused to be in their presence for longer than a few minutes. I helped my father load the couch into the truck, removed curtains from the windows, and rolled up the large rugs around the house.

At noon, we all met in the kitchen where only our kitchen table now sat for sandwiches that my mother had made.

I sat down in a seat with my cup of soda and got up to get a sandwich, and when I had returned Zac was sitting in my seat. I was livid.

“Get up,” I mumbled, standing next to the chair and trying to push him off of it without causing too much of a scene.

“I sat here first,” Zac whined. 12-year-old’s have such annoying whines, I decided.

“I was and then I got up! My drink is sitting right in front of you idiot!” I gasped.

“Taylor,” my mother warned from where she was cutting a sandwich into pieces for Mackenzie- the way he liked it.

“You didn’t call fives,” Zac said, “If you wanted to come back to your seat, you should have said fives.”

“Fives!” I shouted, giving him a hard shove and moving his body half-way off the chair.

“Mom!” Zac said, turning to her, “Look what he’s doing to me.”

“Zachary, I don’t want to hear your whining right now. Work it out with him. Taylor, settle down. You’re walking down a dangerous slope this morning and I suggest you cool it before you get yourself in more trouble than you want to be in.”

“Isaac started it!” I wanted to shout, but I knew better than to blame him for my bad attitude, even though it was his fault. My parents wouldn’t see it that way. I glared at my entire family and took my cup of soda and plate in my arms, stalking out of the room. Maybe my father and Isaac was happy standing as they ate their sandwich, but I wasn’t about to stand. I wanted my spot at the table and if I couldn’t have it, I’d eat by myself.

“Taylor, come in here and eat with the family!” my father shouted after me.

I ignored him though, pretending not to hear him. I opened the front door and walked outside, collapsing on the front step and sighing. I could hear his footsteps behind me. I was dead, I figured. At first it didn’t faze me that much, until he opened the door and stepped in front of me. He glared down at me with his hands on his hips, and naturally, I shrunk.

“What did I just say to you?” he demanded.

I looked up at him nervously, “You told me to come back in the kitchen…”

“And?”

“And I didn’t,” I closed my eyes for a moment. I wondered how badly he would spank me. I wondered if he’d take my fight with Isaac into account when he had me over his knee.

“Why not? Why would you deliberately disobey me like that Taylor?”

I sighed, “Because Zac took my spot… and everyone was bothering me… and I just wanted to be alone before I blew up at someone.”

My dad looked me over for a moment before sighing and collapsing next to me on the step. Was I not going to be spanked after all?

“I’m sorry, but I’m just having a really bad day,” I grumbled. “Ever since Isaac got in a bad mood, it put me in a bad mood, and I’m not blaming Isaac for my disobedience but you know how he can be. His moods are dominating. If he’s not happy, no one’s happy.”

My father chuckled, to my surprise. “Just like your mother.”

I nodded and felt safe enough to take a bite of my sandwich. “You know how it is when Mom is in a bad mood. It puts everyone on edge. That’s how it is when you share a room with Isaac.”

My father smiled, “Not for much longer, right?”

“I still don’t think it’s fair that Isaac gets his own room in the new house and Zac and I still have to share… we’re too old to share.”

“I shared a bedroom with my brother until I was 22 years old! You’re definitely not too old. I’d love for you boys to finally get your own rooms, but I’m afraid we don’t have enough bedrooms for that in the new house if you boys still want a practice room.”

“We do,” I nodded. Having a room to write and play music in was essential in the new house. I would not give that up.

“Are you going to punish me…?” I squeaked when he didn’t say anything.

He sighed, “I should. You deliberately disobeyed me back there, Taylor. You undermined my authority in front of the entire family.”

“I’m sorry…” I muttered.

“Despite the fact that you’ve spent the morning fighting with Isaac and ignoring my requests, you have done a lot of hard work around the house and so…”

I waited, hoping for a declaration of mercy. So rarely did my parents let us off the hook.

“I’m going to acknowledge that hard work and give you a final try to behave yourself. I shouldn’t, and don’t think that this means you can get away with things now. Because I’m going to be watching you even more carefully now. Your behavior is expected to be superb.”

I nodded gratefully.

“Show me that warnings work for you by turning your behavior around for the better,” he said, “And come inside and stand in the kitchen and finish lunch with the rest of the family. This is really our last meal as a family in this house. I want everyone to be present, even if it’s just sandwiches and potato chips.”

I nodded, and picked up my food. Somehow, with my father beside me, it didn’t seem hard to follow though with this request. When we returned to the kitchen, I ignored Zac’s smug look. My mother sent my father a worried look, as it was very obvious I hadn’t been punished for my behavior. To my relief, my father just waved off her concerns and went back to eating his sandwich.

About an hour later, I was helping my sisters pack up all the videos in the living room when I heard my mother call my name in a voice that sent shivers up my spine.

“Jordan Taylor! Get upstairs right now!”

My sisters gave me sympathetic looks as I rose to my feet immediately and hurried up the stairs towards her voice. I had no clue what I had done, but I was sure I had done something. I was just thankful that whatever it was, my father wasn’t home to see it. He was gone taking a load of boxes in the family van to the new house.

I walked into my bedroom to find my mother holding my U2 poster in her hand examining the wall. As soon as I saw her there, it all hit me. Two years ago I had gotten a pretty bad spanking for talking back to my mother. I talked back to her because she had unfairly grounded me for the night. I had been grounded because at the dinner table I had said “oh my god” at one point. My parents certainly didn’t approve of that statement, as it was using God’s name in vain, but they never punished us for saying it! I suppose that’s why it escaped our mouths so frequently. My mother had had enough though, and informed me that I could cancel my plans and stay in for the night.

“That’s not fair!” I had shouted back, completely taken back by the fact that she had grounded me for such a minor offense. “You never ground Isaac for saying that kind of thing and he says it way more than I do!”

“Taylor!” Isaac shouted at me across the table, “That’s not cool, Taylor. Don’t try and get me in trouble!”

I didn’t care about him though. I only cared about anything but my spoiled evening. I was so furious with my mother I couldn’t speak. I had plans to leave for the movies in an hour and a half with friends.

“You can’t do that!” I shouted at her, “You didn’t even warn me! I have plans already that can’t be cancelled and that’s hardly a punishable offense!”

“Maybe that is why it’s always coming out of your mouth!” My mom snapped, “Maybe you’ll think about your language more in the future now.”

“I get the point, okay? I won’t do it anymore. I get the point without having to be grounded for the night!”

“That’s enough,” my father interrupted, “You’re done. Your punishment has been decided, and unless you want to make it worse I’d suggest you stop arguing with your mother right now.”

“Of course you say that’s enough,” I snapped back at him. “You’re not the with the ruined Friday night, are you!?”

He rose him his chair and I saw all my siblings wince. I had touched a nerve. I had talked back to my mother and my father after many warnings, and he had not taken it well.

“Let’s go to my room, right now!” he demanded.

I was getting spanking. To make my horrible night even worse, I would spend the rest of the evening recovering from a spanking. I wanted to slam my fist down and refuse, but I knew better than to do that. Instead, I replied with the only sort of defiance I could get away with without sealing my death wish.

“Let me finish my dinner…” I mumbled, picking up my fork and taking a bite of mashed potatoes. “I don’t want to do this now…”

He stomped over to me, grabbed me tightly by the arm, and yanked me to my feet. I blushed a deep red due to the humiliation of having to be dragged from the dinner table in front of everyone to be spanked in my father’s bedroom.

Spankings usually humble me. I usually see my wrongs, become remorseful, and vow to change my behavior. But I was just so furious that particular time I didn’t settle down at all. I apologized to my father like I was told to, muttered a brief apology to my mother, and then even apologized to the family for disturbing the dinner like he made me.

After all of my artificial apologies, my father turned to me and pointed to the stairs.

“Go upstairs and go settle down. Mom will come up to speak to you after dinner. Your finished eating, as far as I’m concerned.”

I had miserably managed to pull myself up the stairs, and had restrained from slamming the door despite how badly I wanted to. It took all the will power in me to close it quietly. I didn’t even want to know what would happen if I had slammed it. That was a huge show of defiance in my household.

I laid down on my bed and took a pen, beginning to scribble angry drawings in a notebook. At age 13, I had really just begun to discover how to use cuss words properly, so I began writing them all down furiously in the notebook just because I was so angry. But it wasn’t defiant enough for me. In an act of utter disobedience, I turned to the wall right next to my bed and stood on my knees as I half wrote, half carved “fuck parents” into the wall with my sharp, black pen. When I was finished, I sat back and admired my art.

Just as soon as I could feel proud, a feeling of dread swept over me. I was a dead man. There was no escaping it. I licked my fingers and tried to rub it off, but it did no good. What I had done was permanent. I could feel my time running out. It was only a matter of minutes before my parents came up to speak with me. It was then that I spotted the U2 poster next to the window, tore it down, and taped it up over the spot on the wall. When my parents came up to lecture me, they had no clue about the wrong I had just committed. I eventually did show Isaac, who just shook his head at my immature act.

“Did you do this!?” my mother demanded as I snapped out of the memory and rubbed my sweaty hands on my pants. I stepped closer to her and examined the wall. It looked just as it had two years earlier.

“How did this get here, Taylor?” My mom repeated.

“I don’t know…” I lied. Oh no. Why had I lied? There was no turning back now. I had to continue to lie, unfortunately. I should have just told the truth, I decided, but it was far too late for that.

“Did you write it?”

“No ma’am,” I mumbled, trying to appear as casual as possible. I stepped over to it and ran my fingers over the words to try and seem just as confused as she was. I shot her a horrified expression for effect. “Did you ask Isaac and Zac…?”

“Zac said he didn’t do it. He told me it was your poster and I ought to ask you,” she said pointedly. “Isaac! Get up here!”

He appeared in the doorway looking just as nervous as I had moments before. I prayed he wouldn’t turn me in. I instantly regretted all the trouble I had created with Isaac that morning, even if he was the one with the initial attitude problem. He was the only one who knew about the wall and I knew my fate rested in his hands.

“Did you do this!?”

Isaac’s confused face was far more genuine than mine, as he obviously didn’t remember the event from years early. Only after he came closer and read it, did I see the memory pass across his face.

“Did you ask Taylor who did it?” he asked.

“He told me to ask you two. I want an answer right now. Someone better come clean.”

Isaac narrowed his eyes at me while he spoke to my mother. “Taylor said to ask us, huh?”

I pleaded with him with my eyes, but it seemed to do no good. I had royally pissed off my brother by not only fighting with him earlier, but by trying to push the blame onto him and Zac.

Isaac turned and faced my mother, and then without any hesitation said, “Well, Taylor’s lying to you. He did that two years ago. He told me himself.”

I suppose I could have continued to deny it, but it was my word against Isaac’s and Isaac never lied. I, unfortunately, had gotten caught lying a few times in the past year and I knew had lost a part of my parents trust.

“Is that true?” My mother glared at me.

It was hard to find my voice, but when I did all I could seem to make it say was, “Yes ma’am.”

She grabbed me by the arm and immediately yanked me over to my old bed which was now sheet-less. She sat down on it and pulled me to her side, angrily yanking down my gym shorts in one swift moment. It scared me how she didn’t say a word until she turned to Isaac and demanded, “Isaac, go get the brush from my purse!”

I had been hoping since she wasn’t armed, she might just spank me with her hand which might be somewhat tolerable. But Isaac nodded agreeably and hurried out of the room to obey her request. He almost looked satisfied, in fact.

As soon as he left, my mom pulled my down over he legs and pulled the back of my boxers down. She furiously began spanking me with her hand without another word. Her spanks were harder than usual and burned my skin with each blow. I was in tears before Isaac even returned with the hairbrush. She took it from him and the first smack of it caused my tears to turn into wails.

“I don’t know what I’m more angry about!” my mother gasped and she began spanking me even harder with the brush. “The vandalism, the language, or your lying! But don’t doubt you’ll be spanked for all three!”

I moaned miserably through tears as she continued spanking my bottom so hard that it felt like it was on fire. She covered my entire bared bottom, top to bottom, with at least 50 passionate spanks before she dropped the brush at her side in exhaustion. I laid there crying with my bottom smarting for a full minute before I could even pull myself to my feet.

I shamefully pulled my boxers up in the back and pulled my shorts back up, trying to hide how obviously upset I was about it all. I did my best to hold back tears, but I guess it was pointless. I had already lost my pride with the loud and pathetic show I had just put on during my spanking.

“Come downstairs with me,” my mom finally spoke, rising to her feet and heading for the door of my room. I was instantly obedient, not even pausing to question her. I followed her down with my head hung, whimpering and reaching behind to rub my prickly bottom. Each step sent a splash of pain through my body.

The living room was now empty of our family’s furniture. All that remained were two leather chairs by the window.

“Get a chair and put it in the middle of the room and sit down on it,” my mother demanded.

I went over to drag one of the leather chairs over but she stopped me.

“I don’t think so. You can get a chair from the kitchen table.”

She knew it would be far more uncomfortable and shameful for me to have to sit on the hard, straight chair from the kitchen rather than lounge back in one of the soft chairs that had always been in our living room. My mother was too good at punishing us. She knew all the loop holes.

I sighed to myself and went to retrieve the chair, relieved that the distraction had caused my crying to cease at least. I dragged it into the living room and looked at her, sitting down obediently.

“You can wait here and think about what you did until your Dad returns.”

“Momma,” my younger sister Jessica asked as she hesitantly tapped my mother. I turned redder as Jessica looked me over briefly. I don’t care how many years you have of being punished in front of siblings. It’s always somewhat embarrassing. She held a plastic picture frame up to my mother. “Do you want me to wrap this in towels too? It’s not too breakable.”

“It should be fine,” my mom told her.

As Jessica left the room, she took one final look at me and sighed at my pathetic state. My siblings must have gotten sick of constantly seeing me in trouble. The truth is, I hadn’t been in trouble for three months.

Back in February, I had made my father so angry for some crap I pulled at church that he had actually dragged me outside to the woodshed and laid it on me with the belt in the freezing cold. I cannot tell you how much the cold doubled the pain of the belt. It was an experience I never wanted to repeat. So all throughout March and April I had been an angel. I had obeyed my parents, hadn’t looked for mischief, and had been very careful about my language. I had done a fair share of talking back of course, as it seemed impossible to be perfect, and even got a brief spanking on the seat of my jeans one afternoon for it, but for the most part I hadn’t found myself in any trouble for so long.

My siblings had actually begun to believe I was done with my long defiant streak until they all saw me sitting there in the chair like the punished child I really was.

“I spanked you for writing on the wall in the first place, and for what you wrote,” my mother informed me. “Your father will spank you for the lying, as you promised him your behavior would get better today, and you broke that promise by lying to my face.”

She walked out without another word, leaving me to my aching bottom and humiliating shame. I felt so ridiculous. I couldn’t really help what I had done two years before. I couldn’t escape that punishment. It was bound to come at some point, I reasoned. But the lying? Why hadn’t I just fessed up right away! Surely I would have been a lot better off if I had just told my mom the truth. I had to have known that my brother would turn me in anyway. He definitely didn’t want to be blamed for it.

What killed me the most, was that my father had given me a chance. He had dared to have faith in me, and I had let him down. It was as simple as that. Surely I had lost another portion of his trust and had ruined his compassion in the future. I shuddered when I noticed his car pull into the driveway. He walked inside and looked at me with curiosity on his face.

“Why are you sitting there?” he asked as he closed the front door.

“Mom told me to…” I mumbled quietly. There was no need to tell him what I knew my mother was going to tell him any minute. She rushed down the stairs as if on cue.

“Walker, could you come with me for a second?”

He sent me a death glare before following my Mom up the stairs. I couldn’t hear his reaction to what she showed him on my bedroom wall, but I could hear them as they began their descent back down the stairs.

“I just can’t believe he had the nerve to lie about it, Walker. He tried his best to pin it on Zac or Isaac, but Isaac told me the truth.”

“I’m just flabbergasted that he had the nerve to lie after my talk with him earlier. You were right. I should have spanked him then, but I honestly believed he’d turn himself around and make better decisions for the rest of the day, Diana.”

I heard my mother sigh, “This is Taylor we’re talking about. You know he doesn’t learn his lesson easily.”

They silenced as they reached the bottom of the stairs, and then walked over to me. They stood in front of me both just silently glaring down at me. I couldn’t look back at them though. I stared nervously at the floor.

“Diana, do you remember what we found when we were cleaning out the kitchen cabinets this morning?” my father asked.

My mom looked confused at first.

“Do you remember what we used to spank the kids with until we lost it a few years ago?”

The paddle. I knew it before they even had to say it. My parents had found the old paddle that we detested. I remembered about three years ago both Zac, Isaac, and I had all been spanked with it hard for a huge lie we all told. Then together, we had collectively decided to hide the stupid thing in the very, very back on the kitchen pantry to never be used again. We feared our parents might just go out and buy another one, but they never did. They resorted to using the hair brush all the time, and to our disappointment, introduced us to the paddle’s evil cousin- the belt.

“Want me to get it?” My mom spoke quietly to him.

He nodded, “Why don’t you.” Then he looked at me and commanded, “Get up!”

I rose to my feet immediately and let him take my spot in the chair. He wasted no time pulling me down over his legs. My mom returned with the paddle and handed it to him. In one whole movement, he pulled both my boxers and shorts down to my ankles so I laid there bare on top of him. I could hardly remember how the paddle had felt, but as the first crack hit my nervous bottom, it all came back to me. It was worse than you could even imagine.

“I cut you some slack, Taylor! I gave you a break and this is how you respond? You committed to better behavior for the rest of the evening!” My father lectured as he kept on spanking my bottom with the horrible paddle.

“I am so astounded that you actually had the nerve to lie to your mother’s face and try and get your brothers in trouble! How selfish of you! How incredibly selfish!”

I wasn’t sure what hurt more- the spanking or his lecture. It was all pretty bad, that’s all I know. After about 50 painful smacks, he dropped the paddle at his side and pulled the uncomfortable material of my boxers and shorts back up. I laid there sobbing, trying to catch my breath and find my dignity all at once. I stood up and turned away from him, sobbing to myself and letting the humiliation of it all sink in. He had spanked me bare in the middle of the empty living room where I’m sure the smacks and my cries echoed around the house and I could only wonder how many family members walked by to catch a glimpse of it. He stood up in stormed out of the room, leaving me to my crying.

When he returned, he was carrying a rag and a bottle of Windex.

“I want you go to upstairs and scrub that the best you can off the wall. What do you have to say to your mother?”

I looked to my mother who was standing by the stairs shaking her head at me. She looked so utterly disappointed. It broke my heart to see her heart in pieces. I’m not a bad kid! I wanted to scream at her. It’s still me! It’s still Taylor! I’m still the good, nice, caring kid you raised, even if sometimes I act out of character! This is not me doing these terrible things, it’s just some crazy defiant streak!

“I’m just so disappointed in myself that I keep letting you down, Mom,” I said in between whimpers. “I should have never wrote it and I should have owned up to it when you caught me. I’m sorry that I keep messing up. I’m trying… I swear that I’m trying! Just not hard enough, I guess…”

She nodded appreciatively. “What do you have you say to your father, Taylor?”

I looked him in the eyes and felt even more shame. I had let him down even more. He was counting on me! He had fought for me with my mother- insisting that I would shape up and a spanking wasn’t necessary, and I hadn’t come through for him. He had given me a second chance, although I did nothing to deserve it, and I had simply blown it. Why couldn’t I just make the right decisions?! Why had I lied!? How could it be so absolutely difficult to be good? I just couldn’t seem to avoid trouble.

“You must think that because I screwed up, I didn’t appreciate the final chance you gave me,” I said, sniffing in and wiping my eyes of tears that had finally stopped falling. “And I don’t blame you if you think that… but I want you to know that I am thankful and I’m just… so sorry I didn’t change my behavior for you. I really meant to, but I just couldn’t control myself I guess.”

He seemed to know I was genuine, because he reached out and pulled me into a fierce hug. “I can tell you’re working harder,” he mumbled as he hugged me. “And I don’t think if given the chance again, even if you thought you might not get caught, you would write that on the wall or lie about it if you did. I think you really have learned your lesson, and I hope it sticks Taylor. I’d like to see something stick for once.”

I swallowed and looked up at him, nodding. “I’m so sorry Dad… I really am.”

He patted my back and then stepped away, nodding at the cleaning supplies. “Son you have some scrubbing cut out for you.”

I looked at my parents apologetically one final time before taking the supplies and heading for the stairs. I wanted to behave for their sake so badly. I winced as I walked, my bottom on fire, but I realized it wasn’t even my tender backside that I was looking out for anymore. I wanted my parents to know how much I appreciated their love and that they were making a difference in my life. It was just a matter of learning control, learning to think before I acted and make the right decisions. I was getting closer, I felt. Sure, I was still messing up and putting my own selfishness before everything else. But I could feel that I was getting in trouble less and less, and feeling more and more remorseful when I was punished.

As I walked into my bedroom, Isaac and Zac looked up from what they were working on and shot me nervous looks. I’m sure Isaac was wondering if I was mad he’d turned me in, but I wasn’t. I had done it to myself two years earlier when I had written it on the wall. And he certainly hadn’t forced me to lie to my parents about it.

“Are you okay…?” Isaac spoke quietly, “It sounded… bad.”

I shuddered at the idea that the whole family had heard the whole thing.

I sighed and went over to the wall, cringing when I saw my scrawled out words. What was I thinking writing something so absolutely defiant and wrong and… disrespectful on the wall?

“I’ll be okay… but… the paddle is back,” I mumbled to Zac and Isaac.

They both exchanged worried, unhappy expressions before going back to packing.

I stood there and scrubbed at the wall and although I couldn’t remove it completely, I did get most of the ink off the wall at least. I vowed to turn my behavior around. It felt like the millionth time, and I knew I couldn’t be perfect, but I vowed to stop lying. Lying was just so wrong on so many levels. It was so cowardly. As my family moved from the old house to the new house, I could feel I too was moving- in the direction of growing up.