LITMIR.BIZ

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pushed me on the shoulder and growled indignantly at me.

      ‘You give Lily back her mouse right now or I’ll tell on you!’

      This was not how I imagined it would go. I stuffed the mouse back into my pocket and looked with some consternation at the growing circle of children surrounding us. The noise from the twins had drawn their attention and with the added bonus of a furry creature it was too wonderful by half. Mrs Pompour’s attention was alerted as the crowd grew. Things were going from bad to worse and any control I had, vanished. The children had started chanting, ‘Give it back. Give it back.’

      ‘Give what back?’ enquired Mrs Pompour entering the melee. ‘What exactly have you got, Charles?’

      I shifted uneasily and was met with a sea of angry faces. Where were my mother and father when I needed them? It was at that moment that Albert chose to make his escape. He scurried out of my pocket, along my sleeve and down my jacket. This caused sheer pandemonium. The girls screamed and the boys yelled with excitement. They rushed to try and grab Albert, who took a despairing leap onto the ground and into the bush. The thundering sound of feet chasing after him gave him the added drive to dash straight into a plant, frantically looking for sanctuary. But the boys were made of hardier stuff. They dived in after him, scrambling and digging their little hands in the dirt and ignoring Mrs Pompour’s commands to stop. With a roar of success, one boy pulled the mouse out by the tail and raised him up jubilantly. It was all too much for the little creature and he expired right in front of them. Lily saw everything and ran away sobbing, with Carla close behind.

      ‘Throw that dirty little thing away immediately!’ ordered Mrs Pompour.

      The boy shrugged and tossed the body into the bush, uncertain at what all the fuss was about. I tried to join the group returning back to class but Mrs Pompour collared me.

      ‘What is the meaning of this?’

      I stared bleakly after the boys as they left me to it.

      ‘Come on. Speak up!’

      I shuffled my feet and looked at the ground.

      ‘Right! If that is how you wish to play it, Master Fenton, then you can go and see the headmaster, Mr Brown. I’m sure he would like to know what your excuse is for bringing wild life into my classroom.’ She grabbed my ear and marched me to Mr Brown’s office.

      The walk to the headmaster’s office was painful. Every step I took was as if I were stepping through a muddy quagmire. I dragged my feet slowly, which aggravated Mrs Pompour into pinching harder on my ear to speed me up. It had the desired effect and I lifted the pace slightly. We reached the door and she knocked.

      ‘Mr Brown. Young Charles here feels it’s appropriate to bring a rat into my school. I caught him playing with it in the playground and teasing the girls.’ She pulled me in, as I started to snivel.

      Mr Brown glared over his spectacles at me, frowning.

      ‘Indeed, Mrs Pompour, indeed. That’s simply not good enough. We have rules for a reason, young lad, and they are not to be taken lightly. Perhaps it is time to be taught how to remember that for the future. I shall see to it, Mrs Pompour. Thank you.’ He nodded at Mrs Pompour, who nodded back and released me. She left the room, closing the door behind her.

      ‘So what exactly inspired you to bring a rat into my school, Master Fenton?’ he asked, coming out from behind the desk and leaning against it.

      ‘It wasn’t a rat. It was a mouse.’ I stared back at him.

      Mr Brown blustered at my response.

      ‘You insolent little rascal! How dare you correct ME!’

      I swallowed and dropped my gaze quickly to the floor, kicking myself for speaking out. It was quite the tactical error and I knew I was in for it.

      He stood up and strode towards the cane propped against the wall. My eyes widened as I watched him pick up the dreaded thing and swish it in the air. I had heard stories of this punishment but had never been a victim to its sting. Mr Brown had the reputation of a tyrant who believed in the saying, ‘Spare the rod; spoil the child.’ Considering I had never even been smacked at home before, I could only imagine the agony I was about to experience. My imagination was superlative and gave me no comfort. He swished the cane again, ensuring I could see him and then turned to face me with a smirk.

      ‘Drop your pants, boy, and bend over.’ He pointed to a stool.

      I trembled as I slowly unbuttoned my drawers. They fell to lie disconsolately around my ankles. I waddled over to the stool and leaned my elbows on it. My little white bottom shivered in the cool air with both cold and dread. Tears bubbled over and trickled down my cheeks onto the stool. I bit my lip trying to hold them back but to no avail. I could hear the headmaster remove his coat and place it over his chair. He picked up the cane again and marched towards me.

      ‘For your punishment, Master Fenton, you shall be receiving five of the best. And let this be a lesson to you, boy, never to bring RATS into the school again.’

      I heard the air whistle as the cane sped down and hit my buttocks. I held my breath.

      ‘One!’

      The pain was sudden and sharp.

      ‘Two!’

      I counted silently in my head, flinching at each wallop. My tears had turned to sobs.

      ‘Three!’

      Two to go, two to go. I murmured inside.

      ‘Four!’

      Almost there, one more, one more. Ouch, ouch, ouch.

      ‘Five!’

      Mr Brown returned the cane back to the wall and put his coat back on. He was puffing slightly as he returned to his chair. My face was red and slimy with tears mingling into snot. I silently pulled my trousers carefully over my buttocks. My bottom felt as if it were on fire as I stood to attention in front of his desk. He was writing a note for my parents.

      

      I walked home with lead in my shoes. The pain and embarrassment were almost too much to bear. I could feel the note searing in my pocket, adding to the heat coming from my nether regions. I had been instructed to go home and give the note to my father who would have to sign it so I could return it as being witnessed. There was no escape from further punishment, which was what Mr Brown was hoping for I could tell. He seemed to be particularly satisfied with himself after my caning and I hated him for it. I muttered to myself all the nasty things I craved him to endure. If the evilest goblins in the world should come to snatch him and take him away to work in their underground caves, then I would have personally cheered them on and strewn their path with flowers. I crossed both my fingers and wished with all my might that this dreadful thing would happen to him. My imagination ran with it and I began constructing different scenarios of torture that the goblins would enforce on my headmaster. This kept my mind engaged and I was somewhat flabbergasted to arrive at my front door. The enchanting images evaporated and I returned with a thump to the present and unavoidable confrontation to be.

      I skulked in, not wishing to see my mother. I was her golden boy and I felt deeply ashamed at my asinine behaviour in front of Lily. It was best to face it like a man and get it over with. I knocked on my father’s study door and waited for the response.

      ‘Come in,’ I heard.

      I breathed in a deep breath and walked in, closing the door behind me. My father stopped writing and smiled initially at seeing me, but the smile dropped quickly on observation of my serious expression. He frowned.

      ‘What’s the matter, son? Why are you home so early?’

      I reached into my pocket and handed him the note. He opened

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