To Be a Senior

  

Have you ever done something that you know is wrong, but the wrong thought doesn't cross your mind until you are sitting across from your Vice-Principal? I sure have. It was my senior year of high school. I had learned many lessons from Miss, hidden in the sound recording booth. I should have known better by this point. Or perhaps I was testing her. Throughout my high school years, I belonged to the swim team. We had a strict coach, who believed that just because we swam alone, didn't mean we weren't a team; he was never afraid to pull the whole team from a competition if one two, or 'five' of us didn't follow his rules. I know this made us a stronger team. We made it to Provincials, Nationals for a cheerleader team. Unfortunately, we never got to compete.

 

It was a three-day competition Wednesday to Friday. We were to compete on the Friday. The night before the competition I had run into some of the Grade Tens on the team. They were off to meet up with some friends they made from another team. This team had managed to sneak alcohol into the hotel and was throwing a party; out of fear of being busted by a senior teammate, they invited me along. I have no idea what I was thinking but I agreed and followed them to the party. You can only guess what happened next. The party got really loud; really fast after all the hotel was full of swim teams from all over Canada and the USA. What teenage party wasn't going to get out of control? An hour in the hotel manager had tracked down all our Coaches at the restaurant across the street. You should have heard the people freaking out as the Coaches entered the party room. People were trying to hide beer bottles, cigarettes, drugs, and themselves. All hell was breaking loose as Coaches from opposing teams collected their teammates.

 

Things were not pretty once Coach had assembled our team together. We were instructed to pack up our stuff, we would be heading home in the morning. We would not be competing due to some of our fellow teammates (me) partying it up down the hall. I was immediately removed from the rest of my team for a thorough chewing out. I was a senior, Coach said and as a Senior, I had the responsibility to encourage the Grade Tens to return to their rooms. How dare I join them in their irresponsible act? And you can just sit right there and listen as I call the VP to tell him I pulled the entire team. It was one extremely quiet 4-hour ride back to school. Finally, I could see the school come into view. I hoped the VP hadn't been talking to Miss. Drinking was one of our no-no rules. One I was still underage. Two it was my last year and I was working on pulling my grades up so I could get into college. I needed a scholarship to do that. So, in Miss’s mind, childish teenage crap wasn't allowed. GULP! Our VP was waiting at the curb for the bus; as soon as the doors opened, he was up and on the bus!

 

"You five! My office! Now!"

 

Obediently one by one we followed Mr Pfeiffer into his office. Sitting side by side in front of his desk we waited for the suspensions to be handed out.

 

"I am not impressed with any of you right now. As far as I'm concerned you five should be suspended if not expelled."

 

Fear was flashing all over our faces. Most of our parents would kill us.

 

"But thanks to your Coach that's not going to happen. You five are his until he says otherwise. You will obey him without complaint. You will not miss one of his detentions or team practices. And you will write me a 5000-word essay on drinking and its effects before a competition. Is that clear?"

 

"Yes, Sir."

 

"Get out of my sight."

 

"Yes, Sir," we all stood to leave.

 

"Sunshine, stay!" My heart sank. I felt guilty enough. I knew better. I didn't want another senior speech. "You are to report to Miss’s classroom first. And then join the others in the gym."

 

"Yes, Sir."

 

"Get going she's waiting for you."

 

Somehow in my fearful daze, I managed to find my way through the courtyard and down the Arts hallway. Lightly, I knocked on Miss’s door hoping she wasn't going to hear. Apparently, Miss was sitting on the table next to the door waiting. After four years she knew all my tricks, she knew I wouldn't knock too loudly. Miss stood and swung the door open. Nothing really needed to be said I entered the classroom listening for the door to close behind me.

 

"Sound room," Miss pointed!

 

"Yes, Ma'am."

 

I could see how tense every muscle in Miss’s body was. I didn't know if her annoyance was more shock or disappointment. Either way, I knew I was in a whole mess of trouble. I knew the rules, I knew the consequences and I knew my time had come. Click went the sound room door; now soundproofed in it was time.

 

"A party, Sunshine?" I immediately looked at the floor. I didn't want to see the disapproval in her eyes. I knew better and still don't know why I followed. "Oh! Okay! You can't even respect me enough to look at me. You know the rules. So, we're done talking over my knee right now!"

 

Kicking myself inside, I found myself in a very familiar position. Closing my eyes I shook my head, "what the hell was I thinking" kept replaying in my mind. A yelp exited my body as I was forced back to reality by a stinging handprint left on my behind. Just like the first swat about two dozen more landed in fast repetition never waving the fierce firmness Miss started with.

 

"No more messing about. Get up and take these down," I was ordered.

 

Forced onto my feet I stood in front of Miss; hoping I didn't hear her correctly.

 

"Fine. Make it worse for yourself."

 

Miss reached up; and grabbed a hold of my jeans pulling me closer to her. Unfastening them Miss pulled them down around my knees; my panties were next. Bare I looked down at her in protest. Why? I still don't know to this day. With protest in my eyes, Miss pulled me back over her lap.

 

"Hand me the hairbrush," Miss demanded.

 

"No!"

 

"Don't you dare say no to me! You knew this was coming. Didn't you?"

 

"No!"

 

"Oh okay. So, you felt it appropriate to go off to a party on a school outing. Drinking underage; we have a rule about that. Do we not?"

 

"Yeah!"

 

Swat! Spank!

 

"Yes, Ma'am," I quickly corrected!

 

"Not to even mention that you're a senior teammate. You knew what the Coach would do. Didn't you," Miss demanded an answer?

 

"Yes, Ma'am."

 

"You threw away a Provincial competition for a few drinks? You trained all year and then threw it away? But apparently, you think that’s fine and I'm out of line."

 

"You're not out of line," I admitted to both her and myself. 

 

"Well, you obviously think, what we have been working towards the last few months is worth nothing."

 

"No, I don't."

 

"You do, Sunshine. What if the police were called? Do you think any school would accept someone with a juvenile record?"

 

"No, Ma'am."

 

"So, then the last few months have meant nothing to you. Do you even want to go to college anymore?"

 

"I do."

 

"Then you hand me the hairbrush and take the punishment you've earned. Or I'm done helping you," Miss ordered in frustration.

 

"I'm sorry."

 

"I don't want to hear it. You just slapped me in the face. I thought we were past the disrespectful phase."

 

A tear of guilt escaped from my right eye. I reached forward and picked up the implement I will always hate. Nothing more needed to be said here. I was so far in the wrong; I needed what was coming to me. I reached back and handed the brush up; submitting to my punishment. Miss pushed me forward up over her left knee pinning my legs with her right one.

 

"Give me your hand."

 

Obediently I surrendered my right arm. I was scared now. I knew what this meant. I was about to get the holy crap spanked out of me. Miss wasn't going to allow for any fighting. She felt my nervousness.

 

"You deserve this."

 

"Yes, Ma'am."

 

The hairbrush connected with my left cheek with such force I was sure I wasn't going to make it through. Before I registered the full amount of pain, I felt the hairbrush move to my right cheek. I was sure that between the crack of the hairbrush and my yelping, we were going to break through the soundproof barriers of the recording booth. The fear was soon pushed to the back of my mind as the hairbrush again landed on my left cheek and then the right. After about the sixth swat all I was fearful of was making it through the spanking without further embarrassing myself. Swat after swat painted my naughty bottom crimson red followed by spots of purple. It didn't take long for Miss to have me bawling the guilt out. I felt that evil hairbrush over and over again for the next ten minutes. I dared not ask her to stop. I knew I deserved it. Finally, as the hairbrush started to slow, I was able to slow my crying down. I felt Miss’s hold on me loosen. First, my hand was returned to me; then she allowed me to slide off her knee. Kneeling in front of Miss I looked into her softened eyes.

 

"I'm sorry, I don't know what I was thinking."

 

"I know you're sorry."

 

I lowered my face into my hands trying to wipe the tears away. Miss stood taking me by the upper arm she helped me into the corner. She knew all too well that I was better at calming down there. Twenty minutes later I was released from my punishment room with the understanding that I was to return on Monday. Exiting Miss’s room I followed the hallways that would lead me to the gym. After all, I still had to face the Coach.