Part 3 (2/2)

”Yes, sir. I put them in grocery sacks.”

Dad looked as if he were trying to think of something wrong with that.

”He was good today,” Mom said. ”He took care of Jasmine this afternoon so I could get some things done.”

Jasmine popped into the kitchen. ”He was too p.u.s.s.y to fight Todd Boyle.”

Jimmy heard his heartbeat in his head. He tried to open the door, but Dad gripped his arm before he could turn the k.n.o.b.

”You say that word to your sister?” Dad shook Jimmy so hard that his shoulder popped.

Jimmy was mad. ”I didn't do nothing.”

Dad opened the door and dragged Jimmy across the yard into the garage. He propelled Jimmy facefirst against the pickup fender and told him to drop his pants.

Jimmy let his jeans and briefs fall around his ankles. Then he gripped the rim of the wheel well, palms up.

He would not cry.

He heard Dad take the piece of fibergla.s.s fis.h.i.+ng rod from its nails. Itwhished through the air twice.

Jimmy shut his eyes and clamped his teeth. He would not cry.

The rod hissed a third time and bit into his b.u.t.tocks. He sucked air through his teeth.

”You gonna teach your sister nasty words?” Dad asked.

”No,” Jimmy said.Eat s.h.i.+t.

The rod hit the backs of his thighs. Jimmy yelped before he could stop himself. Dried mud inside the wheel well crumbled between his fingers.

”No what?” Dad asked.

”No sir,” Jimmy answered. He heard his saliva drip onto the fender.Queer bait.

The rod hit his thighs again, with an even hotter sting. His nose began to run. Tears squeezed past his eyelids.

”You gonna backtalk me any more?” Dad asked.

”No sir.”f.u.c.k Nixon.

”Carl.” It was Mom. Jimmy knew better than to look around. ”Jasmine says that James didn't say that word to her. She says it was another boy, being mean.”

”I ain't whipping him for talking dirty,” Dad said. ”I'm whipping him for talking back.” Mom's shoes crunched on the concrete as she left.

The rodwhished through the air twice.

Jimmy cried.

When Dad was through, he put the rod back on its nails and said, ”Turn around.”

Jimmy did as he was told. His legs and bottom burned as if matches touched them in a hundred places.

Dad put his thumbs in his pockets. ”Was some punk bothering your sister?”

”Yes, sir.”

”Did you whip his a.s.s?”

”No, sir.”

Dad looked at him for a long time. ”Guess I raised a sissy,” he said then. ”Didn't I?”

Jimmy had to answer. ”Yes, sir.”

Dad went to the door. ”Pull up your pants,” he said, and went out.

Jimmy lay in bed reading aGreen Lantern comic book. He had already read it ten or fifteen times, but he wanted to keep its events sharp. The new issue was on the rack at the IGA, and he would buy it on Sat.u.r.day after Mom gave him his allowance.

He was sweating in his windowless room, and the sweat made his welts sting. In a few weeks, when it was hot enough. Mom would let him sleep on the couch in the living room.

After he finished the comic, the welts hurt worse. He wondered how Dad would like it ifhe were the one who was whipped every time he said something wrong. Jimmy looked at his own fis.h.i.+ng rod in the corner. Maybe in a few years, he would see if he could give as good as he got.

He sat up and pulled the rod onto the bed. It was a six-foot length of thick black fibergla.s.s. Its Zebco 404 reel was loaded with a hundred yards of twenty-pound test monofilament. At Christmas, Dad had said he'd chosen the st.u.r.dy pole and strong line so that Jimmy could catch some really big ones. So far, though, they had only gone fis.h.i.+ng once. Dad had gotten disgusted with Jimmy for having trouble threading a worm onto a hook. ”If you ain't going to fish right,” Dad had said, ”you might as well not fish at all.” Then he had thrown their stuff into the pickup and driven them home. Several times over the next week, Jimmy had dug up worms near the septic tank and practiced. But it had been for nothing.

The door opened. ”That's it, James,” Mom said. She pulled the string to turn off the light. ”Time to go to sleep.”

Jimmy put his fis.h.i.+ng rod back in the corner. ” 'Night, Mom.” She stood framed in the doorway. ”You aren't bleeding, are you, honey?”

”No.” The cut on his thigh was small. His jeans had been stuck to it, but it had only bled a little when he'd pulled them down.

”All right,” Mom said. ”Just be sure to be respectful from now on, and you won't be spanked any more.”

”Yes, ma'am.”

”That's a boy. Good night, dear.”

” 'Night.”

She closed the door, and Jimmy lay still, listening. As usual, Jasmine threw a fit at having to go to bed.

Also as usual, Mom soothed her until she settled down. Then Mom and Dad had a fight. Jimmy scrambled the words in his head.

When the fight was over, Dad watched the end of theThursday Night Movie and Mom took a bath.

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