Please not the paddle

See, not everyone gets paddled. Maybe it will be okay.

Mrs. Buchanan came to the door and looked down at her, the next girl on the bench. Beverly could not meet her eyes.

“Beverly, come on in.”

Beverly rose. She trembled. And she started to walk. Mrs. Buchanan closed the door behind her, but Beverly did not hear it. She had seen the dreaded wooden paddle on Mrs. Buchanan’s desk.

Please, no. Please, no. Not the paddle. Anything else.

“Please sit down, Beverly.”

The chair in front of Mrs. Buchanan’s desk was dangerously close to the implement of pain that lay upon it, but Beverly sat down, still trembling. She felt that her face must be as white as her notebook paper.

“Let’s talk about your behavior.” Mrs. Buchanan leaned against her desk, looking down at Beverly. Still, Beverly could not look at her. She stared ahead and down.

“Passing notes. Do you know how many times you’ve been caught passing notes this year, Beverly?”

Not a good way for things to start. “Um….no, ma’am.”

“I doubt that you do. It’s been several. Each time that you have been warned or given some small punishment, it has been recorded in your file here. Every time. So, I know about everything that you’ve done all year, Beverly.”