SUMMONED BY THE HEAD
Part Five
For an hour we were made to stand against that wall, though at the time it felt like days. My small bot was burning ferociously and only towards the end did the sensation begin to abate, which was of little comfort, of course, knowing that I still had another swat to come to my injured ass. How sorry I felt for poor little Matty, sniffing and sobbing softly at my side. I swear I would have died rather than take another two of those cruelly administered swats!
At last Mr Humphries instructed us to return in file to the front of his desk and we stood once again like soldiers on parade, only he made us stand this time with our hands still on our heads.
'Right then, I hope you spent your time productively, pondering on the wickedness of your ways,' said the head, simpering sarcastically. (Personally, I could ponder on nothing beyond the burning in my butt, yet I had to admit that we had been out of order, and the punishment had been a fair one. I still wanted to wring Hopkins' neck, nevertheless.)
'I have spent MY time reading your, er, "magazine",' continued Humphries, draping the verbal quotes contemptuously around the word. 'One item in particular had come to my attention...' He held up his copy of our latest edition of Epsilon for us to see the offending piece. I felt my face grimace. I had quite forgotten about it...
'WHY I BELIEVE HUMPHRIES IS A QUEER ASS' ran the banner...
'WHO is responsible for this?' demanded the head. We three boys stood silent. We knew very well who had written that article. Well, it had taken a fair amount of revision because it had been so badly written with numerous grammatical and spelling errors, but the original copy had been Hopkins'. We hadn't really wanted to run the piece, but we thought that if we rejected it, Hopkins would probably have withdrawn his offer for help in circulation.
Humphries met our silence with a steely stare. 'Which of you is, so to speak, the editor of this esteemed journal?' he asked.
I was about to explain that it was a joint venture between Matty and myself when my friend piped up with, 'I am, Sir.'
'But...' I started, then fell silent. We all knew Humphries well enough to realise where this was leading. I didn't want the responsibility to fall solely on Matty's young shoulders, not after the bruising he'd just taken. But arguing in front of the Head could only make matters worse for all of us.
'Whoever wrote this has earned twelve swats,' said the Head. 'Now, Johnson, if you have designs on being a journalist, there is an important lesson for you to learn. When libellous articles are published, it is the editor with whom the buck stops. Do you understand what I am saying?'
'Y-yes, Sir,' quavered Matty.
'So, boy, either you give me the name of the author, or else you take the paddling on his behalf.'
Matty's head drooped.
'I should warn you, Johnson, that refusal to disclose this information will result in an additional six swats for wilful disobedience.'
I could not believe what I was hearing! I shot a quick glance at Hopkins, but his expression told me that there was no way the fat young coward was going to face the music. Come on, Matty, kid, I thought. Just tell him! It was Hopkins who turned us in, after all.
Matty drew a deep breath. 'I'm very s-sorry, S-sir, b-but I c-can't say, S-sir,' he stammered nervously.
'You're a stupid little fool, Johnson,' shouted Humphries. 'What are you?'
'A stupid little f-f-fool, Sir.'
Humphries rose from his seat. 'Very well, have it as you wish. Hopkins, as a mere delivery boy, I see no reason why you should have to witness what is about to happen. You may go.'
The fat prig looked relieved and left the room without a word, as the Head walked towards the worn parch on the carpet once again. 'Taylor,' he instructed, 'we may as well get yours over with first.'
'Yes, Sir, thank you, Sir.'
I went across and bent over compliantly. This time, at least, I thought I knew what was coming but, jeez, it was worse than the others put together! My recently paddled ass was so sensitive that even having my shirt pulled out made me want to yelp. When the paddle fell on me with an almighty crack, every nerve in my body was thrown out of kilter... I gasped, struggling with all my being to stop myself yelling out loud, to maintain my submissive posture until instructed to stand. Only the knowledge that I could not have borne another swat like that enabled me to take it manfully, feeding my determination to follow the Head's rules on taking my lick. I struggled to compose myself, took a couple of breaths and then meekly spoke the words which were to draw my ordeal to a close: 'One, Sir.'
'You may stand, Taylor. Hands on head and return to your place.' I did as he bade me, my butt burning with renewed vigour. 'Now,' he continued, turning his attention to my friend. 'I believe it's your turn, Johnson...'