boys... the consolation of being beaten in the best private school

He held the strap.

I knew the heaviness and rounded edges and how it raised a welt.

At recess the clan gathered.

“Don’t draw your hand back, it just makes him madder and he adds another two if you do.”

Big, moist eyes watching.

“And hold your hand steady, Pete—you don’t want him to hit your wrist—he did that to me and it really hurt.”

The circle of boys silent.

“Cold today—I’ll bet it’s ten below.”

“Try sticking your hands in snow.”

“Maybe you should cry.”

It was a whisper, scarcely audible above the wind.

“He can’t do that.”

The clan nodded grimly.

The dark terror rose and gripped my chest. I stared down at our rough boots.

We were hardened to it, but it still hurt. You couldn’t go through a year unscathed.

The offence? Being late.

Two lashes on each hand…provided you didn’t draw your hand away.

The memory of Mitch still fresh. The Master swung and he pulled back and the strap hit the Master’s thigh.

There was silence on earth and in heaven.

Giddy with fear, we wanted so badly to laugh, but didn’t.

Later, I puked outside the school. Brown and red in the snow, scuffed over … easily forgotten.

Mitch got ten and was a week off school.

The bell sounded. The dark circle broke.

He was waiting at the front.

Walk up the aisle, stare straight ahead.

Boys on the right and girls on the left.

“Do you know what you did?”

I nodded.

“Put out your right hand.”

I did.

He pulled the strap though the fingers of his left on its way up the arc and down onto my right.

The shock was blinding. Knees buckled and I almost fell.

The Master smiled and waited again.

I did.

He pulled the strap through the fingers of his left—

“STOP!”

He did.

Linda Arrigo was on her feet trembling.

“You can’t do that.”

The shock was blinding. My knees buckled again. She fled.

“Put out your other hand.”

I did.

A blinding shock. Again and again.

“Take your seat.”

I did.

We studied grammar, parsed four sentences and broke for lunch.

My hand ached. My wrist ached all the way up to my elbow.

Hands slapped my back. Rough boy hands. “You did good.”

Around me the clan gathered. Wolf faces gleamed.

Everyone laughing—at Linda Arrigo pleading.