I remembered Dr. Cornell’s warning somehow, and clutched the carpet; though I was desperate to reach back and protect my poor burning seat from any more pain.
Then it was over. The room seemed suddenly very quiet, except for the kid that kept going “Hoo! hoo! hoo!” all alone with her misery.
The paddle waved in front of my face. “Kiss it.” I puckered up, smelling warm leather and that damn oil. “Thank me.”
“Thank you.” My voice was full of gravel.
The paddle fell again, many times, hard.
“Let’s try that again,” said Mrs. Kraft. “Try to sound sincere this time.”
I kissed the paddle like I was in love with it. I said, “Thank you, Mrs. Kraft for giving me the hard paddling I deserved!”
“The girl shows promise,” observed Mrs. Kraft.
“Yes,” Dr. Cornell agreed. “I think after another co
