Mrs. McConnal XXV

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Chapter Twenty Five: Stan's Drill

Stan took his classes standing up for the rest of the week. My guess was that he would be standing for most of the weekend, too.

When we were entering Mrs. Wilkerson's class I heard her softly ask him, "Are you OK?" He wouldn't look at her but nodded, 'yes'. Maybe it'll take him some time to warm up to her again.

She was in a much calmer mood than she had been. She had to be more calm than yesterday, but she seemed more relaxed than she had been since this whole thing started with Stan. To her mind it was resolved, now all that remained to do was to reel him back in. I wondered if she was really as determined to do that as she said she was. I wondered if Stan was really going to do his part as well. Right now it didn't seem like he was, but it had all happened less than 24 yours ago. His butt may need to heal some first before his heart could.

I kept my mouth shut in her class, that day in particular. I remembered how she had sounded irritated with me for ignoring her honor society. No need to remind her of my existence now. I wasn't sure what it might take to set her off again, and didn't want to find out.

She taught by asking questions to lead students through the thread of an idea. She was dealing with what some considered a difficult concept that day. Correct answers were slow in coming.

I wasn't paying a bit of attention to what she was saying. I had learned the trick of always looking at the teacher while she was talking, then you can let your mind wander and she won't know . . . unless she calls on you. And Mrs. Wilkerson almost never called on me, not since I was made a member of the honor society.

My mind was filled with Dianne and going to the dance with her tomorrow night while Mrs. Wilkerson pulled answers out of her class. She would look my way from time to time. I said nothing. She'd look to someone else who would attempt an answer. I checked the clock to see how much longer I had to stay there; only half over.

Suddenly I heard her call my name, "Jeremy."

"Ma'am."

"What's the answer?" she asked. She didn't sound angry.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Wilkerson, I wasn't paying attention." I said, in a flat unemotional tone, dropping my protective cloak of ice around me.

"But you were looking right at me." she said questioningly.

"Yes, ma'am, but I wasn't paying attention." Go away and leave me alone, were my thoughts.

She didn't seem mad. She just stared at me for a few seconds. Then she decided to repeat her question, "If a portion of an equation such as the one on the board contains a square, what do we know immediately?'

"That part of the function goes negative as well as positive, in relation to the constants within the equation" I replied. Now don't bother me any more.

"Yes," she said, "but that's not in the book. How did you know?"

I went to the board and drew the curve, freehand, for the equation she had written. "Because it looks like that." I said, showing where it went negative. (Now leave me alone.)

"You just did that in your head?" she sounded like a teacher's aid or something who had just met me.

"I read the equation. Isn't that what we're supposed to do" was my only reply as I sat down, never looking at her. I was getting irritated now. (Leave me the God damn hell alone, lady. Shit, I'm not bothering you.)

The class remained silent for several moments. Mrs. Wilkerson looked at me, with almost a pleading look in her eyes. (Don't show any vulnerability to me, woman. Hell, I'll eat you for breakfast.)

The rest of the period I sat there as if autistic; not looking at her, not looking at anything. Not listening to a word anyone said.

Clark stopped me in the hall saying, "You shouldn't have been so mean to Mrs. Wilkerson. She's never done anything to you."

"I wasn't mean to her." I said. "I answered her questions, that's all." I knew perfectly well what he meant.

"She was only trying to draw you out." he said.

"She was bothering me." I said in the same tone I had answered her.

The clowns were calling for Stan to show his butt as soon as we entered gym class. He didn't seem too anxious, but few boys are. His clothes had to come off to change into his gym suit.. So when his ass first came in to view it brought gasps of amazement.

"Damn, Stan, she went to work on you with a belt!" A razor strap. "Bend over." he did "Wow, man, she almost caught your balls with that strap." Almost "We're you scared?" Of her hitting my balls? "Yeah." I knew she wouldn't do that. "How'd you get it?" Grabbing my ankles, pants off. "Pants off! You have a hard on?" Yes "How long did it last?" Not long once she started. "Did you cry?" Yes (Did he ever.) "How many licks?" 10 "As hard as the ones she gave you earlier?" Yes "I bet she had you in spank land REAL quick." Pretty quick. "You think you'll ever sit down again?" Not for a long time

Then came the question I was wondering about but wouldn't ask. "Do you hate her?" No. "How can you NOT hate her, man, after she did that to you?" Because I like Mrs. Wilkerson "I would think that would be enough to kill all that LIKE." Well, it's not. "You can't think she LIKE's you after doing that to you, do you." She likes me. She just finally spanked me, that's all. "Yeah? Well that kind of LIKE I can do without." Mrs. Wilkerson's a nice lady. I pushed her too far. "Yeah, you damn sure did that." "You don't think you're going to be her pet again, do you?" She likes me. It's just going to take some time to get over this.

Wow Stan was talking like an understanding adult. He had never sounded like this before. Two days ago he would have been cursing Mrs. Wilkerson for some imagined slight, now he's talking like he's defending her.

Then he got up, ending the session. and he walked straight toward me, with an angry expression on his face. I instinctively backed up as he approached.

"And as for YOU, you little shit," he almost yelled, poking his finger in my chest, "if you EVER talk to her like that again I'm going to punch your lights out. You understand me?"

"Yeah, Stan, sure thing, man." just don't hit me, was all I could think. Mark that down; be nice to Mrs. Wilkerson, else Stan will hit me. Yeah, I can remember that.

When I began to change clothes I remembered that my own bottom may still have some marks, too. I checked in the mirror that morning and it still had a general redness about it. Maybe no one would notice.

No such luck. "Hay! Here's another red fanny over here." someone called. "Jeremy! My man! Mrs. McConnal whooped you again did she?" Yes. "When? For what?" Yesterday after school. (How could I tell then the reason?) I smart mouthed off to her. She didn't like that. "How'd she do it?" (I hesitated. I knew this would sound childish.) She took me over her knee. "Over her knee! Like her little baby!" (laughter from everyone but me) "Pants down?" No. "What did she use?" Her hand. "Over her knee with her hand! Isn't that sweet!" "Smart mouthing off, huh?" Yes. "You better be glad Mrs. Wilkerson didn't paddle you for smart mouthing off to her today."

I stood up. "I didn't smart mouth off to her." I said adamantly.

"You were mean to her." said Stan angrily. "She's been trying to draw you out of that shell of yours ever since school started and you just treat her dirt."

Don't argue with Stan right now.

"He's right, Jeremy," said Clark, "you hurt Mrs. Wilkerson's feelings this morning. And you didn't have any reason to."

"Hell," cried Stan, "the little bastard's been hurting her feelings all year."

He came over to me again. "How nice does someone have to be to you before you'll treat them like a human being?"

"I just answered her question." I said defensively. "I've never treated her, or any other teacher, like dirt."

With that Stan grabbed me by the shoulders and slammed me up against the lockers. "You damn well do!"

"Hay, Stan, easy." Clark tried to calm him down, probably more from wanting to keep Stan out of trouble than to protect me.

"She got you in the honor society and you won't even show up for the induction. You ignore her meetings. She tries to get you to take part in class because she's proud of you and you just stare at her like she's a stone or something.

"What the hell is it with you, kid? You think because some people don't have as much brains as you that they don't have feelings, either?

"Smart brain!" SLAMMED me up against the lockers. "Smart mouth!" SLAMMED me up against the lockers again. "Smart ass!" SLAMMED me up against the lockers again. "Don't you EVER treat her again like you did today?" SLAM! "You understand me?" SLAM!

I was getting dizzy. If he keeps this us he's going to hurt me. He's a lot bigger than I am! Somebody please stop him!

"Stan! Stan! Stan!" It was Clark. "I think he got the message, Stan." (Damn right I got the message!) "Don't hurt him, man, he's just a little kid."

Yeah, tell him, Clark. I'm just a little kid. Don't hurt me any more.

So much for any joviality in the dressing room that day.

"I heard what happened this morning." Dianne said over lunch.

"What's that?" I asked. Lot's had happened this morning.

"About you smarting off to Mrs. Wilkerson . . . "

I cut her off. "I DIDN'T smart off to Mrs. Wilkerson." I was tired of explaining that.

"Everybody else says you did." that must be what a big sister sounds like. "I also heard that Stan's pretty mad about it."

"Yeah, he was pretty upset." I confirmed. "Stan's pretty emotional today."

"He probably wanted to do that for a long time, Jeremy." she said. "You wouldn't like someone being mean to Mrs. McConnal."

"I haven't been mean to Mrs. Wilkerson." I protested. "She'd have paddled me if I had."

"She's scared to." Dianne said, matter-of-factly. "Everybody is."

"I'm not one for striking fear into anyone's heart, Dianne." That was ridiculous. I sure didn't scare Stan.

"Yeah you do. You work at it." she said.

"I do not." I said. Where could she be getting this?

"OK, Mr. Congeniality," she challenged, "name all your close friends in school."

I stared at her without an answer. "You."

"Who else?" she pressed.

"Mrs. McConnal."

"Who else?" and she sat waiting.

"Well, I like Clark." I said.

"Yeah, you hang out with him a lot, don't you?" she asked sarcastically.

"No." I didn't have anybody else to add to the list.

Dianne leaned to me and said pointedly, "You know what your problem is, Jeremy?"

"What?"

"You're an ass hole!" fortunately she said it with a smile.
 

The End