Note to readers. Don't read if you don't like poor grammar, this is rough.
This is a work of adult fiction. No resemblance to reality should be inferred or expected.
Copyright… are you kidding?

Edited by Amanda Lynn.

I’m back in school and I’m trying to repair that damage my dad did. Mom and my sis, Dea has been backing him up, too.

The whole family’s like “Why not?” I chaperoned Dea as her sis at the kids’ dance party and was invited by Oscar to the junior dance!

So, like I said, I’m back to school and I’m confused cuz I don’t know who I am anymore. Oscar knows me as a girl. But I am a boy. My ID says so.

I wear to school the same things I wore last year, and those are jeans and a tee. Shorts are not allowed. Dresses and skirts are allowed but only Cheerleaders wear skirts. And so do fashion chicks. I’m neither. So I wear jeans and a tee. Like all the other boys and girls.

Most girls have their hair long, but I don’t. Their jeans are skin tight, but mine are loose. Their tees are skin tight and cropped, but mine are loose and long. My tees are oversized cuz I’m waiting for a growth spurt to start any moment now. It doesn’t start. Oh, well, I’m wearing jeans. In my shorts, I look like I’m wearing a dress in an oversized tee.

I’m at school, and I expect Oscar to approach me but he’s busy with his pals. They are all busy with their faces glued to their smartphones, like the rest of the student body.

I don’t have a smartphone. Well, I have it but it’s in my backpack because I don’t have any friends to communicate with.

The bell rings and we are ushered in to the assembly. This school board lady talks about their goals blah-blah-blah, then our goals blah-blah-blah, and returning to Christian values blah-blah-blah. Then principal talks about returning to Christian values. At last the president of the student body talks also, blah-blah-blah. We all are bored to death and ready to commit a mass-suicide.

The bell rings and we go to our homerooms. The kids are the same as the year before. The teacher does some little talk, a couple of new students are introduced and we are dismissed to our classes.

Everything goes as the year before. I’m the invisible loner like a few other kids. We don’t form a clique cuz cliques attract attention.

Days go by filled with some boring classes with no one paying too much attention to me, when one day the math teacher motions for me to come to his desk.

“Principal wants to see you,” Mr. Pearson says and handles me a hall-pass.

The principal isn’t a buddy students want to communicate with. The Councilors are the ones that usually communicate with the students and sometimes VP. The principal is like a last resort.

I’m in the office’ waiting area. The secretary is typing something into her pc.

“Sally?” she asks turning her stare to me.

I nod my head “Yes”. Usually, the staff calls us by our last names with the preceding title. Teachers are more familiar with us calling us by first and last name. Like Solomon Borlaw in my case. It’s Sally Borlaw recently for some unknown reason.

“Mr. Burchard is waiting for you,” she says.

I rap at the door and wait till I hear “Enter!”

I enter the office and say “Hello”.

“Ok, I’ll get right to the point,” the principal starts. “Have you read the student guide book?” he asks.

“Yes, I have.”

“Sure you have,” Mr. Burchard states. “They're only a few dress-code rules and you managed to break one of them.”

I look down at myself and I don’t see anything out of place. Shirt, jeans, trainers – everything clean and trim.

“Are you wearing a bra?” he asks out of the blue.

“No, I’m not,” I try to stay calm. “Why would I?”

“WHY-WOULD-YOU?” The principal is raising his voice and he almost screams the last word.

I’m not used to anyone screaming at me. His rage makes tears well in my eyes.

“School board indicates returning to Christian values and there we have IT – our student comes COMMANDO to our school.”

My lower lip quivers but I manage to say, “I don’t have…”

“Don’t say you don’t have,” he snaps.

He throws the colorful glossy magazine in my direction.

He leans over the table and grabs the magazine and opens it. At centerfold there is a title “Tomboy defeated” and there are images of me in a dress and another in lavender tee and black skirt. That black skirt looks good on me while my ass in it looks something round and…

“You lied to school and registered yourself as a boy,” he says a little more calmly now, “while your mother states in this paper you’re her tomboy daughter. That’s the first major offense. All girls have to wear bras. And you wear one in those pictures but you don’t wear one to school. That’s the second major offense.”

Well… He’s right in that bra’s strap is visible under the shirt and the dress in pics with me but there…

“We have two major offenses here not only in one day but committed constantly in last week,” the principal says. “According to school board instructions I have no other choice… I have to paddle you.”

He extracts an enormous paddle from under his desk. It’s gigantic and heavy. Maybe two feet long. With three holes drilled in it.

“I need you in my office, Ms. Kent,” he says into his phone and the secretary enters the office.

“You’ll be an official witness of student discipline,” the principal says to her.

“Bend over the desk,” he instructs me.

There is a sound like “whoosh-crAck” and sharp pain shots in my butt.

“One,” I hear secretary count. Tears start rolling down my cheek. I bite my lower lip and try not to scream.

Then there is another “whoosh-crAck”…

“Two,” the secretary counts and then “whoosh-crAck” again and she says, “three.”

Tears are flowing and I am bawling. Secretary takes me in her arms and consoles me.

I calm down and the principal says, “I’m against cp but the new School Board’s instructions are very clear and there is not much I can do about it. You may be proud that you are the first student paddled in twenty-six years in this school. I understand if you hate it but you are kind of famous here.”

The secretary leads me back to the waiting area and I wait for her to fill out some forms while I’m rubbing my burning ass.

She handles me a pink slip of paper and another hall-pass, “Go to the nurse’s office. She has to sign your punishment slip. Then come back to the office.”

I go down the corridors to the nurse's office. The classes are still on and the corridor is empty.

I hand the slip to the nurse and expect to take it back and return it to the office immediately.

“Paddled? Oh…!”

She looks me up and down.

“What for?” she asks mischievously.

“Dress-code violation,” I reply. I don’t want to discuss what happened and HOW it happened and WHY. I say that’s what’s written on the slip in the field “Reason”.

“It’s high time,” she says. “Those tomboys are completely insolent nowadays.”

She takes the same glossy magazine from her drawer and opens it where my pics are.

“It’s definitely your color,” she states with her finger indicating my pic in the dress.

“Back to the business, dear,” the nurse says. “I have to inspect the damage. Come nearer and turn around.”

She keeps my shirt raised.

“Lower your pants.”

I unbuckle my jeans and lower them.

“Panties too.”

I pull my briefs down a little.

Maybe I should have pulled them even lower and show her that I’m a boy. But I’m embarrassed already. I have had enough shame for one day. It’s all mom’s fault, not mine.

The bell rings and I hear the noise of students filling the hallways.

“You have one cute butt,” she says, “I don’t understand why are you hiding behind those drab rags.”

There is a rap at the door and it opens without the nurse’s answer. I turn my head backward and there is girl’s head in the door crack.

“May I?” the head asks.

“Come in Becky,” the nurse says. “The same irregular periods?”

The girl enters and she is blushing as red as a ripe tomato.

“Don’t worry sweetie, only us girls here,” the nurse says and handles the girl sanitary pads.

“What happened to Sally?” girl asks.

My pants are still lowered with my paddled butt exposed. I’m afraid to move and cause pants drop to the floor. I feel alien and I don’t want to be here. I’m blushing like crazy.

“Tomboy has got prosecuted for tomboyishness at last, in this school,” the nurse explains.

“Oh, I’m so sorry for you, Sally,” Becky murmurs.

She hesitates about hugging me. Then she hurries out. The bell rings again and the noise in the hallways dies.

The nurse examines the marks on my bum. She touches my butt with her finger.

“Oh, I feel the heat still,” she says. “There is no damage to the vital functions though. Just a healthy rosy color. I expect your daddy will spank you when he gets home.”

“WHAT?”

“In my days…”

I remember her celebrating sixty years the last winter. Then her days were some fifty years ago.

“In my days,” she says with some longing in her voice. “The student bringing home the pink punishment slip could expect a thorough strapping from their father.”

“What? Why?”

“Never mind,” she says and handles me the signed slip. “It’s a different time now. O tempora, o mores!”

I’m back to the office with the signed slip and my mom here. Mom signs the slip and then signs the journal. She takes my hand in hers and leads me to the parking lot.

“How do you feel?” she asks me when we are already in the car.

“It hurts,” I say.

“That’s good. I hope you have learned your lesson.”

“What lesson?”

“Don’t forget to put your bra on.”

“Why would I? Has everybody gone crazy today? I AM A BOY, MOM!”

“I know. You’re my son for sixteen years. The never happy sulking boy all those sixteen years. Yes, I remember. Sixteen years is like a sentence for homicide. Until ten days ago, once you were my daughter, there was happiness in your eyes. The spark I have never seen before. You weren’t acting.”

“Well… Uh-huh…” what can I say here? She’s right about the happiness though.

“How? Well… My ID and… If I’m a girl I don’t want this here,” I look down to my groin.

Mom follows my stare.

“With all modern techniques and a little money we may hide what you don’t want to see. No worries, no surgery here. Other specialists will help with your feelings. If you still have the will to do so – and your ID too.”

I hug mom and tears are rolling down my cheeks again.

“I love you, mom.”

“I love you too sweetie.”