"Enter," a voice said. I opened the door. Kit was right behind me. I was beginning to sweat a little. We walked into the room. It was the first time either of us had had a reason to visit the House Mater's room. It was much larger than a student's room, and furnished a little more plushly. A stuffed sofa and matching chair, heavy curtains at the window, plush carpet. A television. A single bed, small dining table and a kitchenette. Through an partially opened door I could also see a bathroom.
Purvis was one of the younger teachers at Buckley. Maybe thirty years old. He taught Juniors trigonometry and calculus to Seniors. He had no Sophomore classes. He looked friendly enough although he was definitely not smiling as he looked at Kit and me. We stood near the door.
Purvis looked at a book on the table -- the house punishment log. "Which one of you is Andresen," he said.
"I am, sir," I said, my voice cracking a little with nerves.
"Did you have a brother here a couple of years ago?"
"Yes, sir," I said. "Class of '60."
"Yes," Purvis said looking at me closely, "I thought so. I remember him." He looked at Kit. "You're Strickland, then," he said.
"Yes, sir," Kit said confidently. Purvis took a step toward Kit. Like me, he apparently heard the oh-so-slight arrogance in Kit's voice.
"You don't take this seriously do you Strickland?" Purvis said. I was secretly glad to see that Purvis recognized Kit's _c_o_c_k_y attitude.
"Yes, sir," Kit said. I could tell that Purvis's remark had caught him off guard.
"I don't think you do," Purvis said in a matter-of-fact tone. "But I could be wrong. But if you don't, you soon will." He looked at the punishment log again. Kit and I exchanged a quick glance at each other. He flipped to the back of the log book. "First House Master's paddling for you both, I see." He looked up at us both and we knew we were expected to answer this statement.
"Yes, sir," we both said simultaneously.
"Well, the semester is only --- what? --- six weeks old," he said as though that explained why we had not been officially paddled until now. "Hardly time to get into trouble," he said with a slight smile. "Yes," he said to himself, answering his own statement. "Not to worry, boys," he said, "I paddle Seniors just as hard as Sophomores -- or Juniors for that matter." He flipped back to the front page of the log. "Smoking," he said. "Smoking in the dorm," he added. "Right?"
"Yes, sir," we both said simultaneously.
Purvis reached for a pack of cigarettes from the table that I hadn't noticed until now. "I don't condone smoking." He took a cigarette out but then returned it to the pack. "I smoke, so I can't speak with any moral outrage. I'm not a hypocrite. But....well it is against the rules for students. And you were apparently caught red-handed. Not a question of whether you broke the rule is it?"
"No, sir," we both said simultaneously.
"Not a question of whether you deserve the punishment, is it?"
"No, sir," we both said simultaneously.
"You'll both need to initial the punishment log, signifying that you felt the punishment deserved and received it under no objection. You know that?"
"No, sir," we both said, looking quickly at each other.
"Oh yes," Purvis said. "Makes everything 'official' -- in case there's a question later. The whole idea behind the punishment log."
The room was close, even a bit warm and I felt sweat on my upper lip and forehead. Purvis apparently noticed this. "A little stuffy in hear isn't it Andresen?"
"Yes, sir," I said.
"It's all of this stuffed furniture, the carpet." He said. "Keeps the sound of the paddling down though, I suppose. And some of you boys do tend to react vocally." He reached to a box of pop-up tissues on the table. He pulled two out and walked to me. "Here, Andresen, wipe your face, please." I quickly took the tissues and ran them across my face. He held his hand out and tossed them into a waste paper basket. I couldn't see if there were other used tissues in the basket but I suspected there were -- from Cohen and Johnson's visit. The fact that he had a box of tissues easily at hand I took as an ominous sign.
"I don't particularly enjoy this part of House Master's duties," he said. "The last time I had House Master duty, I didn't have to paddle anyone. But....well that was late last school year and by that time even the Sophomores -- the current Juniors -- had learned to either not break the rules or, more likely, to not get caught at it." He smiled.
So far, this visit had been rather congenial, certainly not threatening. Purvis seemed a decent guy. I was almost ready to think that maybe this wasn't going to be so bad after all. Perhaps Kit had been right -- these House Master paddlings were mostly psychological. At the same time, I recalled that Cohen had definitely been crying when he came out of the room. The box of tissues bothered me as well.
Purvis reached over the back of the sofa and brought his hand holding a paddle. I had heard about this "house paddle" but had never seen it. Unlike the longer paddles that most upperclassmen kept secretly -- and illegally -- in their rooms, this paddle was only about fourteen inches long and maybe four inches wide. It's "squarness" surprised me. It was made from a very dark wood. I couldn't see much of the handle. It certainly looked "mean" enough. It would land on a family large area. A hard smack would no doubt sting.
"The 'infamous' House Paddle," Purvis said. Very effective on a covered behind," he said as he reached over the sofa back with his other hand. He raised his hand holding a longer, much narrower paddle, maybe eighteen inch long and only about two inches. I was guessing.
"I prefer this one for use on a bare butt, though." He held them both up for easy comparison. "This one," he said looking at the narrow paddle, "reaches places the house paddle doesn't. So much for the question of whether or not Kit and I would have to have our trousers and pants down.
I think even Kit became concerned now. This was going to be a painful experience. Two paddles, one especially designed for use on a bare butt. Either capable of inflicting a good sting if handled correctly, bare butt or not.
"I think we should begin," Purvis said. I now mistrusted his falsely congenial tone. He was playing with us and was probably enjoying it. "We can begin with you both removing your shoes and socks." He said placing the narrow paddle in plain view on the table and still holding the house paddle in his right hand. "I'd appreciate you being quick about it," he added.
It didn't take Kit and me long to shed shoes and socks. "Just put them over there," Purvis said pointing to a spot on the carpet. The thick carpet felt strange on my bare feet. I thought to myself that this might be the last cozy feeling I might enjoy in the next half-hour.
"I tend to want you to be first, Mr. Strickland," he said looking at us both, tapping the paddle on his open left palm. "I think I detected a slight chip on you shoulder when you came in. But then that would put the burden as seeing what was in store for him on Mr. Andresen. So, I'll be fair about this." He paused for a second. I felt fresh sweat beads on my forehead. "You will each pick a number between one and one hundred." He looked at me.
"Sixteen, sir," I said, choosing my age. He turned to Kit.
"Seventeen, sir," Kit said.
"Well, you go first in any event, Mr. Strickland," he said. "My number was ninety nine. You were closer by one. Please remove your wallet and handkerchief." Kit slowly reached back and took his wallet and handkerchief from his hop pockets. Purvis reached for them and placed them on the table. He then tapped the back of the sofa with the paddle several times. "Bend forward, head resting on the back of this sofa, turned facing me and Mr. Andresen." Kit took the two steps to place him behind the sofa and then looking briefly at me he bent forward, head on the back of the sofa, face turned so that both Purvis and I could see him. He started to place his hands on the sofas as well.
"No, no, Strickland," Purvis said. "That won't do. Hands behind your back. I don't want anything hiding your face." Kit put his hands at the bottom of his back. He looked back over his right shoulder at us. He still appeared confident. His school uniform trousers were pulled tightly across his butt. "You stand where you can see your fellow 'felon', Mr. Andresen." I took one step to the side giving me an even better view of Kit's face. "The position House Masters have students assume for paddling varies somewhat, I understand," he said as he moved into place. "I prefer this position even though it allows you to see each stroke as it's delivered. It's not too awfully uncomfortable is it, Mr. Strickland?"
"No, sir," Kit said, although it was difficult for him to talk with the left side of his face against the sofa back.
"The punishment for smoking in the dorm is twenty strokes," Purvis said as he checked to see that I was far enough back as to not interfere with his swing. "I have -- as I recall -- the option of delivering the second ten strokes on your bare butt. Is that your understanding as well, Mr. Andresen?" I took me a second to realize that the question had been addressed to me, not Kit. My attention was directed to the sight of Kit bent over with his butt presenting such an easy target.
"Yes, sir," I said.
Purvis placed the paddle gently on the seat of Kit's trousers and rubbed it back and forth a few times. "It's customary that you count the strokes, Mr. Strickland, so that there is no question as to how many are delivered," Purvis said as he continued to tease the paddle across Kit's butt. "Of course, we also have Mr. Andresen here to count as well. You need not yell out the number, just state the number clearly and loud enough for me to hear." With that Purvis slowly brought the paddle back in a wide arc and then quickly forward. The sound of the paddle on Kit's trousers was a lot louder than I had anticipated. I think I flinched slightly.
I watched Kit's face closely. I'll never forget the sight. A second or so after the loud whack sound, Kit opened his eyes wide as the sting hit every nerve in his buttocks. He had a look of total surprise. He then immediately closed his eyes tightly and noisily sucked air in through his teeth. "So," I thought to myself, "it hurts more than you thought."