Foster Forest (3): The Schoolyard Fight

The anger was fading quickly. As it went, it was replaced with a deep sense of dread. This time, she knew what to expect. This time, she couldn't claim that she hadn't known what the rules were. It was clear that she was in trouble, and in some serious trouble at that.

Elizabeth fidgeted. The red was slowly beginning to go out of her face, and she was finally able to unclench her fists. The shaking wouldn't quite subside, and she closed her eyes, blinking back the hot, angry tears of shame that had built up in her eyes. She didn't want them to see her crying -- not any of them! The two sixth graders had already been picked up and sent home, and the other fourth grader had gone back to class. It figured. She'd known that everyone would take the side of the paying kids. Nobody ever sided with a foster kid. That was just how the world worked, and the sooner a foster kid had it all figured out, the better. At least she wouldn't be too hurt when Becky took her home and gave her the spanking she was sure she was in for.

Becky would probably do some yelling, Elizabeth thought as she gripped the hem of her white school blouse in her hands, twisting it back and forth. The anger was quickly giving way to fear as she realized how glad she was that school paddling was no longer popular. Mrs. Laurel had pointed out to all three guilty students that their situation would have been much worse if she was still allowed to apply the paddle to their backsides. Elizabeth thought she was nothing more than a stupid, sadistic old biddy who needed to keep up with the times. Becky could do with having an attitude adjustment for the age, too.

Indignation was easier to accommodate than fear.

It would be a while before Becky arrived. The two sixth graders had parents who lived within ten minutes drive of the school. Becky had to come from nearly an hour away, twice a day. Elizabeth had at least another half hour to sit and contemplate her crime.

***

"Hey! Hey you!"

Without her book, Elizabeth had been struggling to assimilate at recess. Though she still didn't "play actively" with the other students in her grade range, she'd managed to keep herself out of trouble by finding a quiet area where she could jump rope or bounce a ball. Nobody had bothered her.

Until today.

The boy was big, at least by comparison to her. She didn't know him, and didn't care to know him except that he wasn't in her class with Mr. Becker. He had a head of bright red hair that stuck out in several directions, making Elizabeth wonder how he was within school regulations. Was this the way that the rich kids took care of themselves? If being rich meant looking like that Elizabeth supposed that she was glad she was a foster child.

A bit cocky, she tossed her long blonde braid over her shoulder, brown eyes narrowing at the boy who had approached her. She didn't see his friend behind him, shifting anxiously from one foot to the other.

"You're that scholarship kid, huh? Right? The little foster girl?"

Elizabeth flushed a deep crimson, the color painting her cheeks and creeping down her neck. Her ears felt so hot that she reached one hand up to touch one, testing to see if it felt so hot to the touch.

Nobody was supposed to know that she was a foster child. She'd worked hard to keep it a secret, and although she knew that her teachers were aware of her situation, she thought it was being kept private. A foster child in a public school had a hard enough time. A foster child in a private school, on a scholarship, was mince meat.

Elizabeth gripped the ball she'd been bouncing up and down tightly between both of her hands, her brown eyes taking the boy in. He seemed laid back but cocky, his shoulders square. Whatever he wanted, he meant business.

"What do you want?" Elizabeth spat, eager to get the boy to leave her alone so that she could go on with her "active play." The recess periods were becoming torture enough without having to deal with playground bullies.

The boy laughed, turning to his friend and gesturing toward Elizabeth. "I guess we got ourselves a feisty one, huh?" He turned back and grinned broadly at her. She half expected to see a gold tooth. The thought made the corners of her lips twitch.

"Hey!" the other boy, whose presence Elizabeth was just beginning to recognize, exclaimed. "I think she's laughing at you, bro! Yeah! Pretty sure she's laughin' at you!"

Elizabeth's blood went cold. She'd been dealing with bullies for the past three years. There were bullies in the schools, and bullies in the homes. There were biological kids who thought they were better than the foster kids, and foster kids who had been around longer and had seniority. There were nasty bullies on every playground, ready to trip you up or steal your lunch. Most of all they seemed to like to trap the foster kids into doing something that would get them into trouble.

"Just leave me alone," Elizabeth said, struggling to keep her voice from trembling. Her hands dropped the ball and clenched into fists at her sides, betraying her willingness to defend herself if necessary. One foot was slightly in front of the other, making it very clear to both of the older boys that she didn't intend to run.

The boy in front threw his head back and laughed. "Leave you alone?" he said finally, the dark eyes meeting her astonished gaze. "Oh, but we're just getting started," he said as he took another step forward, toward her. "Why ever would we want to leave you alone when you're so much fun?"

A warning chill went down Elizabeth's spine, and the hair at the back of her neck stood up on end. Everything in her screamed that she should take a step back, away from them. Her spot had been intentionally secluded from the view of the playground monitors. Now she wished that there was more visibility.

"Don't touch me," she said, her voice low and even. "If you do I'll scream. I'll tell Mr. Becker and Mrs. Laurel. If you touch me you'll get suspended for sure."

The two boys looked at one another with mock seriousness, then burst into a fit of giggles. "You get her, Greg!" the boy in front said gleefully. "Hold her for me!"

Elizabeth darted to the side, but she wasn't quick enough for the lanky, dark skinned boy. Before she had time to catch her breath he had her hands pinned to her sides and one hand clamped over her mouth. "You're not going to scream," he whispered in her ear. "Because if they find out what you've done, you'll be expelled."

***

"Where is she?"

The voice snapped Elizabeth out of her reverie immediately. She gave a shudder, glad that she wouldn't have to relive what had happened only an hour and a half ago. She didn't want to think about it, and true enough, she hadn't said anything about what happened to the teachers. Cilla, the other fourth grader who had already been sent back to class, had told everyone what she'd seen. Elizabeth hadn't heard the story she'd told, but she didn't expect it to speak well for her.

Before Elizabeth could even quite raise her head, she felt her chin being grasped in a firm, rough hand, and her tear filled brown eyes went wide with alarmed fear. "You were in a fight," Becky said. It was a statement of fact, not a question. The woman turned the girl's head from one side to the other, examining the dark bruise on the child's cheek.

Very little time was wasted. Becky rose back up to her feet and gripped Elizabeth's shoulder firmly, moving the little girl up onto her unsteady feet. She could tell that her charge was frightened, and that was something new. Even in the face of upcoming punishment, Elizabeth had been bold to the point of disrespect. "We'll talk about this at home," Becky said firmly, beginning to guide Elizabeth toward the door.

"Ms. Thomas."

The voice stopped Becky in her tracks. There was a firm authority in the tone that made her back straighten as she turned around stiffly. She'd spent years dealing with bureaucrats and she'd hoped that part of her life was over and in the past. School authorities were just as bureaucratic as any department of social services. There was a scowl on her face as she turned around.

"Ms. Thomas, may I please see you in my office for a moment?" Ms. Laurel said. It wasn't a request, but a demand.

Becky frowned and glanced down at Elizabeth. "Sit down," she instructed the girl. She jerked her purse straps back over her shoulder instinctively, straightening her back boldly as she went through the door to the principal's inner chamber.

***

The ride home was another one of those silent affairs. Elizabeth sat in the back seat, her arms crossed protectively over her chest, staring out the window. It had begun to drizzle a little bit, and she figured that was just perfect for the way that she was feeling. The late May weather was becoming warmer and more humid, and the air in the car felt stifling with the windows up.

This time the ten year-old could feel Becky's eyes on her in the rear view mirror, and it made her feel even more self conscious. She didn't know what Mrs. Laurel had said to her guardian, but she could only figure that she'd been expelled just like the sixth-grade boy had predicted.

The silence was strange, and awkward. She'd been with Becky now for nearly two months, and since her last spanking in the kitchen of the home, things had been different. They'd been talking more, and Becky seemed genuinely interested in the things that Elizabeth cared for. While the child still struggled to remind herself that she wasn't really wanted.

As far as Elizabeth was concerned, there was nothing to talk about. They would go home, and doubtless she would have her bottom turned up over Becky's lap. Her guardian had made it clear that she would be dealing with misbehavior with a spanking, and it was obvious to Elizabeth that Becky believed the story about the fight. That was the line that the boys had fed to the principal, and Elizabeth hardly believed that anyone would come to her defense.

At home, Becky let the pair into the house and tossed her keys on the table, gesturing toward the stairs. "Go on up to your room. I will be there in a minute. I just have to... take care of something first."

Elizabeth should have been scared, and she knew it. Being sent to her room undoubtedly meant that she was about to be punished, most likely turned bottom's up over Becky's hard muscular thighs. The fear pulsed within her, her heart pounding in her ears. She wasn't sure what she had to b so afraid of. A spanking was nothing. There were much worse things that she could expect as a punishment in some of the other homes. Becky never made her do more chores than she could handle, and she hadn't restricted Elizabeth's access to books. Even more promising, she hadn't so much as threatened to send Elizabeth to another foster home. In spite of herself, Lizzie was beginning to settle in at the Forest Home.

Besides, she was finding that it was nice being just the two of them. Even if she did sometimes get spanked.

By the time she reached her room, Elizabeth had almost managed to convince herself that she was just in trouble for some normal "kid thing." Just some normal rule breaking, nothing out of the ordinary. What if it had been "just a fight?" She'd take her spanking, wait out her suspension, and then it would be over. The school wouldn't really expel her. Would they?

It seemed like forever before Becky arrived. Elizabeth started out pacing the room, walking across the carpet back and forth until she was exhausted emotionally and physically from the ordeal of the day. Finally she sat down on the edge of the bed.

The uniform blouse was torn on the sleeve, and the hem of her skirt was coming down. Both would need repairing, and Elizabeth reminded herself that she knew how to sew. Perhaps, if she didn't trouble Becky with such things, she'd have more of an opportunity to stay. It wasn't so much that she loved the Forest, but more that she was tired of going from one place to another.

The ten year old started when she heard the bedroom door open. Her head snapped up, and her brown eyes met with the green gaze of her guardian. Becky's eyes were slightly puffy, and there was moisture at the collar of her shirt. Elizabeth frowned. Becky had been crying? She shook her head and crossed her legs, putting it out of her mind as she lowered her head again and stood up, already reaching under her skirt for her panties.

"Lizzie, wait," Becky said, reaching for the chair at Elizabeth's desk and drawing it toward the child, sitting down in it. She took hold of both of Lizzie's hands and gently forced the girl to sit back down on her bed. "I want you to tell me what happened. Your side of the story. I want to know what happened today on the playground at school."

Elizabeth flushed deeply with shame and turned her head toward the window, looking outside. The leaves were full on the trees outside now, and there was a wind whipping through the forest. The rain splattered against the window now, harder than before. No longer a drizzle, a storm was coming. She bit her lower lip and shook her head slightly. She didn't want to talk about it. She didn't want to have to talk about what had happened that day.

There was no response from Becky, as though she hadn't noticed the shaking of Elizabeth's head. The little girl shrugged her shoulders, jerking her hands out of her guardian's grip. Carefully putting a scowl on her face, she turned back toward Becky. "I got in a fight at school. What's there to tell? I'm sure Mrs. Laurel told you all about it."

There was a heavy dose of sass in the little girl's tone of voice, but Becky recognized it immediately as a protective act, meant to shield her emotionally from the blow that came when she was punished for what had happened that day.

Becky closed her eyes, sighing deeply. She'd spent a lot of time in her office, crying the tears that she'd had to shed, and making necessary decisions. Elizabeth wasn't cooperating, and that meant that she was going to have to act on the most difficult of the decisions she'd made.

With a sigh, Becky nodded her head, resolved to what she had to do. "Please stand up," she said to Elizabeth. "Take off your skirt, since it needs mending and you won't be needing it again for the weekend anyway. You can put it, and your blouse, in the hamper to be washed and repaired. Bring me your hairbrush and pull your panties down to your ankles."

Oh! she hated this! The expression on Elizabeth's face was sterner than her own as the ten year-old solemnly went to the other side of the room and stripped, leaving her clothes behind her. Instead of simply lowering her panties, she removed them, tossing them into her little hamper and then grabbing her heavy wooden hairbrush from her dressing table.

Elizabeth had gotten a hairbrush spanking from Becky the third day that she'd been at the Forest Home. In her memory, the spanking wasn't that bad, and the fact was that Becky had been holding back a good deal on the punishment, knowing that she was angry and therefore restraining herself. A hairbrush could do a much better job than Becky had done that day, and Elizabeth was, as yet, unsuspecting.

Becky sighed, blowing the air out between her pursed lips as she shook her head. "I don't know what you think is happening here, Elizabeth, but I'm about to give you a very real, very hard spanking for not being open with me. I have given you a chance to tell your side of the story, and you rejected me flat. This lesson is about trusting me to take care of you." There was a brief pause and Becky sighed again. "One more chance, Elizabeth. What happened on the playground today?"

Elizabeth was silent, looking out over and through Becky, her brown eyes unfocused. The young woman shook her head, wondering what she'd done wrong to make the girl feel that she couldn't trust her. They'd had their differences, and there had been three very difficult weeks for them, but she thought that they were moving past that. And she wanted to help, but she wasn't going to lead Elizabeth by asking her questions and then waiting for answers.

Becky nodded seriously. "Alright then," she said, gently taking the ten year-old's hand and guiding her across her lap. Knowing that this spanking would be difficult for the little girl to handle, Becky positioned Elizabeth over her left knee, raising her left leg up on her toe, and then secured her legs with her right leg. Immediately the girl stiffened, a small, startled cry coming from deep in her throat. Becky had expected that, and planned for it as well. While she preferred not to scare Elizabeth, she was hoping to jolt her into the realization that with honesty, she could be helped.

"It's too late now for you to tell me what happened on the playground at recess today, Elizabeth. I'm going to spank you now for disobedience -- for not telling me what happened when you had the chance. You'll have another shot at it when this is over, and if you still don't want to talk, the you can have your spanking for fighting on the playground as well. I hope that I've made myself perfectly understood, young lady."

With that, there was no more need to speak. Becky didn't particularly expect to get a response from Elizabeth, and it was better that she simply get the spanking started so that it could be over with much more quickly. She was determined not to stop until Elizabeth's bottom was a bright cherry red. If nothing else, it would serve as a good warm up for what was to come if the girl chose not to tell the truth when it was over.

The hairbrush smacked down, Becky choosing her spot carefully, focusing attentively on the crease where the child's bottom and thighs met, the spot where Elizabeth would think about her decision every time she sat down for the next few days. The first swat was very hard, and Becky worked at her usual calm, slow and steady pace, alternating cheeks from one side to the othe.

As usual, Becky wasn't keeping count of the number of swats she gave Elizabeth. She felt that it was important that she didn't have some magic number in mind for when the spanking would be over. She was looking for a response in the child, and evidence that her bottom was adequately punished. She trusted herself to know when to stop.

Becky was spanking harder than she had spanked her young charge before, and was mildly surprised when it took more than five swats of the heavy, hard hairbrush before Elizabeth let out her first squeal of discomfort. Encouraged, Becky applied herself a little bit harder, putting the hairbrush to the backs of Elizabeth's thighs, right up at the top. She intended to make this spanking matter, and ensure that the child's bottom was sore from the swell of her bottom cheeks right down to three or so inches above the knees. She wanted the red to show if Elizabeth wore a uniform skirt. She wanted the child to wear the reminder of her dishonesty wherever she went.

The spanking was brutal, and as Becky began to work her way back up from Elizabeth's thighs, spanking over the already dark pink marks, the child began to sob in earnest, her body twisting violently over her guardian's lap in her struggles to get away. "Okay! Okay! I'll tell! I'm telling!" she cried.

Becky only shook her head. "You had your chance to tell me what happened on the playground. You're going to get your spanking now and then you will have the chance to tell me what happened on the playground today. And if necessary, you'll get your spanking for the fight."

Elizabeth was well locked down, and even then her feet drummed as much as possible against the carpeted floor of the bedroom. Her torso twisted and her back arched, but she couldn't escape the stinging blows of the hairbrush as it made its way up to the highest swell of her bottom and then began to work there, picking up the pace and spanking more steadily. She was still taking her time, and spanking just fast enough to make the spanking nearly unbearable.

The child's breathing was becoming ragged, and her bottom was now blazing with heat. Becky hoped that she'd been sincere about her promise for information, because she nearly didn't have the heart to follow through with the second punishment, if it became necessary.

Becky paused. "I hope that you're serious about being ready to talk, young lady, because if not your second spanking is going to make this look like a walk in the park."

Sighing, the auburn-haired woman shook her head and gently guided Elizabeth up so that she was standing between her knees while Becky sat on the desk chair. "I want you to tell me about what happened on the playground today. I don't want you to tell me just what you think I want to hear: I want you to tell me the truth. And yes, Liz. I'll be able to tell the difference."

For a long time the only sound in the room was the sniffling and sobbing coming from Elizabeth as she rubbed at her sore rump with both hands. Becky didn't mind taking her time -- it would be easier to get a read on Elizabeth if she wasn't in the process of sobbing. And besides, she felt that it was an important part of any spanking to give the child who had been spanked adequate time to recover from her ordeal.

After ten minutes Becky felt that she'd given Elizabeth plenty of time. There was a certain tension between them, and she hadn't reached out to comfort the girl. The result was a peculiar awkwardness that Becky struggled to brush off as she took Elizabeth's hands in hers and rubbed her thumbs over the soft skin on the backs of the child's hands. "Tell me what happened. I am listening, and regardless of what you may believe, I'm on your side, Lizzie. Tell me."

New tears bloomed and spilled, followed by heart-rending sobs coming from the little girl. She shook her head from side to side, but even as Becky tensed in preparation to lecture her charge, Elizabeth pulled her hands away and held them up in a gesture of helplessness.

Becky didn't know what to do. If Elizabeth didn't talk to her, then she was obligated to punish the child for fighting at school. Fighting was against the rules, but she could make exceptions of the girl had been in some way provoked. She knew what the principal had said, and she had gotten her information from Cilla, who had witnessed at least half of the fight.

One of the two sixth-graders had a broken nose, as had been reported to Mrs. Laurel by the parents. The other had been checked over by a doctor but was left only with several scrapes and bruises. Elizabeth's skirt and blouse were torn. There wasn't a scratch on her.

Yet Elizabeth was the loser in the fight. Becky could tell.

Sighing, Becky shook her head and stood up from the chair, letting go of Elizabeth's hands. She reached into her pocket and withdrew a small pocket knife. "Since you aren't going to tell me what happened, it seems I'm going to have to follow through with your punishment for fighting. I want you to take this knife and go outside. Cut me a good, sturdy stick off one of the trees out there -- that's called a switch."

Becky was ready to go on, but the girl's arms caught her hard round the waist, holding on tight as though Becky were a life raft and Elizabeth was a drowning girl. "I told him to leave me alone!" the girl cried. Snot and tears were soaking Becky's shirt, and she quickly dropped back down into the chair so that she and Elizabeth were eye to eye. She reached out and took the child's face in her hands, looking deeply into the brown eyes that searched her face for recognition, compassion, and belief. "I told him! But the other boy... He grabbed me and I couldn't move and..."

She went on to haltingly tell Becky the rest of the story. She didn't spare the details, though she flushed deeply with shame as she revealed what had happened, outlining the very things that her classmate had seen and reported to the principal after she had screamed for help.

Elizabeth had been in the process of fighting back when the yard monitor had reached them. She'd kicked the red-haired boy in the groin, and had worked free just enough to elbow the bigger boy in the nose, breaking it. She'd been lucky to avoid being covered in blood, but as soon as she was free, she had run.

Nobody had caught her. She was, after all, a scholarship student and a foster child. Nobody cared whether or not she'd been in a fight or had been hurt. She was resigned to that.

Elizabeth couldn't see the compassion in Becky's eyes. Her head hung, and she couldn't look up. She was terrified of the revulsion that she expected to see, and so was surprised when the woman pulled her gently into her lap, cradling her head against her ample chest.

"Oh, Lizzie," Becky breathed, tears in her own eyes. Not knowing what else to say, she rocked the little girl back and forth until the child's eyelids began to droop. Becky was a strong woman, and she was able to gently lay Elizabeth on the bed and pull a blanket over her. She kissed the child's temple and went downstairs to phone the school.

***

"What do you mean you don't know whether or not the board is going to renew her scholarship next year? She didn't do anything wrong!"

Becky was indignant, and she didn't know if she was more angry for herself and her home or for Elizabeth, who thankfully was in class and not privy to the conversation that was going on between her guardian and the school principal.

"Now Ms. Thomas, you know that I'm not in charge of these decisions," the gray-haired woman said, taking a step back away from the angry guardian. "I'm only telling you so that it won't come as a shock if you receive a rejection letter in response to your most recent application. There are other deserving children who need those scholarships and who may not be as much trouble for our teachers and our school."

"But you are on the board, Mrs. Laurel!" Becky said in exasperation, her hands coming up in a gesture of helpless defeat. "Are you saying that you wouldn't go to bad for Elizabeth in spite of the fact that she was molested right here at your school, by two of your paying pupils?"

"I'm sorry, Ms. Thomas," the principal replied, her hands clenched together in front of her. "There is nothing I can do. She has caused quite a stir here with her behavior and her difficulty in obeying our rules. Several of the yard mothers have complained, as well as Mr. Becker..."

"I see," Becky said. "So in other words, your school is just like anywhere else: You only want the kids who aren't broken. You aren't willing to work with somebody who has problems. I get it."

Defeated, Becky sank into the chair in front of the desk, her hands reaching up to rub at her throbbing temples. Mrs. Laurel relaxed a little bit and went to sit behind her desk.

The principal sighed. "If you like, I can write you a referral to another school and another scholarship program -- an academic scholarship program. Her grades are quite high, and she is a bright student."

"But you've called her a troublemaker," Becky said, sighing herself and shaking her head. She was going to need to come up with a better solution. The school year was over for this year, but next year things were going to be different. She was qualified to teach, and she could home school Elizabeth if that was what it came down to, but she felt that it would be better for the girl to have contact with the outside world, especially as long as it was just the two of them. Already they were getting on one another's nerves.

"We'll see about that referral," Becky said, standing up and heading for the door. Once there, she turned around, one hand on the knob. "I'll figure things out. But in the meantime, I want you to know that sometimes if you give up too soon, you're giving up on a hidden gem. It's too bad for you," she added with a shrug, and then went out the door.

She would only be returning to pick Elizabeth up from school for the next week. Then the school year would be over and she would have to find another solution.