Foster Forest (14): Arson!

It had been a long week for all of the residents of Foster Forest, but Peter was certain that he and Cody were more exhausted than any of the other residents. Though Becky was showing the signs of strain and Lizzie seemed to be hiding out in her room with a book more and more often, nothing could compare to being on the giving or the receiving end of nightly punishments. Peter knew from his own personal experience that Cody was having a difficult time, but he hadn't imagined what it would be like to be the one wielding the paddle every evening for three nights straight. It had taken it out of him to see Cody blubbering and sobbing like a little boy, and Peter could only imagine that he had once looked the same when his mother had taken him to task at the same age.

The rest of the week had been spent mostly talking about the pornography on Cody's computer. It wasn't the porn itself that Peter minded; he could understand that at Cody's age the kid was going to want to look and see things that stimulated him. He didn't condemn the teenager for that. No, the problem that Peter had was with the dishonesty. Nobody had given Cody access to the Internet, and he had confessed later to using a back door to enter the porn site. Once Peter explained to Cody that he was stealing, it seemed as though everything did a much better job of clicking into place. Though he still wasn't sure that Cody understood the rules or their purpose, he thought they  might be making headway, and therefore the ritualistic nightly punishments hadn't been in vain.

Cody was even beginning to speak up a bit at supper. Though he wasn't laughing and joking with the others, he was beginning to come out of himself. The computer was gone, and Peter felt sure that the lack of socialization on Facebook and other Internet sites had caused the teenager to need more real world stimulation. Whatever the cause, Becky was relaxing and Peter was feeling more and more at home. He'd taken on an extra two shifts at the house now, and he was becoming comfortable spending time playing board games with Jackson or helping Lizzie to clean up the library, which she often left in a mess. Moreover, Peter was beginning to relax generally. Though it still gave him the creeps when a room wasn't spotless, he didn't force the kids to be perfect, and he felt better for it.

As far as Peter was concerned, things were going pretty well at Foster Forest in Cody's third week there. Though it would take time for all of the kids to fully settle in, he thought that there was a good chance that things were going to work out for the best.

Peter was smiling to himself as he worked on cleaning the kitchen counters, scrubbing them down with bleach. Jackson was outside with Becky while she instructed the assembly men where to put the playground equipment she'd purchased, and the last time he'd checked, Elizabeth was in her room reading her most recent book. He hadn't checked on Cody in a while, but he also knew that the computer was plenty out of his reach and Peter felt that there wasn't much trouble the fourteen year-old could cause without it. As far as Peter was concerned, all was right with the world.

Then he smelled smoke.

Peter sat up and sniffed the air, thinking at first that he was wrong: Cody was smoking cigarettes somewhere in the house, something that was strictly forbidden along with all "illegal substances" (since cigarettes were illegal for teenagers). It only took a moment, however, for Peter to realize that it wasn't a cigarette he smelled, but burning wood. He was about to turn out of the kitchen and run for the door when Lizzie came rushing in at him, grabbing him around the waist and burying her head against his belly. "Mr. Peter! Mr. Peter!' she cried in a voice muffled by his shirt.

Stooping, Peter drew the little girl back and looked into her face. "Lizzie, there's a fire," he said as calmly as he could. "You need to go outside and wait for me. Where's Cody?"

"He started it!" the ten year-old cried, shaking her head from side to side. "He started the fire!"

The alarm began to buzz, and Peter turned the little girl around and gave her a light swat to her backside. "Get outside, and if you see Cody, tell him to get out there with you. I need to call the fire department. Go!"

Peter pulled his shirt up over his mouth and nose and ventured out of the kitchen, through the entryway and into the Great Room. Great billows of dark smoke were pouring out of the fireplace there, and he gagged, dropping lower so that he could breathe more easily and therefore so that he could think. Immediately he was aware that there was no great danger. The fire had caught only in the hearth and there was nothing outside the fireplace that was burning.

Coughing, Peter examined the fireplace and then quickly opened the flue. Immediately the smoke began to go up the chimney again. Peter withdrew, sitting back on his knees. He turned his head when he heard someone approach, relieved when it was Becky. "Go turn off the smoke alarm," he said. "I've got everything under control here," he added. A moment later the screaming sound of the alarm stopped. Peter was breathing heavily, staring at the contents of the fireplace. A few covers were still visible as the flames licked up the chimney now, safely where they belonged. Peter fanned himself with his hand and finally pushed himself up onto his feet.

"Well," he said to Becky, who was standing behind him. "Seems to me we have an arsonist of sorts in the house, and my guess is I know who it is."

"Cody," they both said in unison.

Becky sighed, and Peter shook his head. "I thought we'd made a dent in him," he said. "What is wrong with him?"

"What do you mean?" Becky asked.

"Why is he so destructive?" Peter said. He glanced back at the fire and gestured. "At least some of the books were used as fuel. I don't know how many, but Lizzie told me about the fire before the alarm started to go off, right after I smelled the smoke in the first place." Peter sighed and ran his hand back through his shaggy blonde hair. He glanced over at Becky and shook his head sadly. "I thought I'd just about gotten her calmed down from the last major incident, and now here we go again. What a roller coaster ride."

Becky muttered something that he couldn't make out, and he didn't bother to ask her to repeat herself. Instead he simply stared into the fire for a long moment, until the two younger children came charging into the house, having heard the alarm stop trilling. "He burned them!" Lizzie was saying breathlessly. "He burned all of them and I hate him!" she cried, shaking her head from side to side. "I hate him!"

"Stop," Becky said, stooping down to look the little girl in the eyes. "Who burned what?"

"Cody!" he burned all the books. "I saw him. They were on the shelves this morning and then I went to go take a shower and when I came back down, he was pushing them into the fireplace. Then he got them burning, and I came and got Mr. Peter."

The little girl wasn't sobbing any more, but the redness of her cheeks told the story of her anger and frustration. Peter turned immediately and went to the library. Sure enough, the shelves were entirely empty and Cody was nowhere to be found. He stood for a moment in the middle of the essentially empty room, and then closed his eyes, his hands on his hips. What on earth was going through Cody's mind? Peter wondered. He had to expect that he would not only be caught if he did something this serious, but that the punishment would be brutal.

A thought prickled at the back of Peter's mind, and he pushed it away quickly. Instead, he walked back out into the Great Room and stopped in front of Becky and Elizabeth. "Elizabeth, you saw Cody put the books in the fire. Isn't that what you said?"

There was a brief pause as the little girl looked up at Becky with an almost questioning expression on her face, and then she nodded. "Yes Sir," she said in a very small voice, broken on the sob that caught in her throat.

Peter took a deep breath. He was struggling with his calm, and he had vowed to himself over the past several weeks that he wasn't going to continue to lose his temper with the children. He needed to be cool when he went to talk to Cody. After all, he thought they were bonding with one another. This disrupted the process, of course. He looked up at Becky. Her face was bright red and there were tears in her own green eyes. That wasn't something Peter could deal with easily, and he turned away, pacing. "Why would he burn the books?" he thought out loud. He wasn't ready to confront the boy, who he suspected would be difficult to find anyway.

"He said... He said that it was because I told on him about the computer," Elizabeth said from behind him.

Peter turned back and dropped down into a crouch, pulling Elizabeth gently toward him. "Honey, I need you to be sure. Because if I find Cody and he gets told off or even punished for this, and then I find out that he didn't do it, there's going to be a lot of trouble for you. Are you sure you saw him and that you talked to him?" Peter asked.

"It's the only thing that makes sense," Becky said before Elizabeth could answer. "Jackson can't reach the matches and even if he could I don't think that he could get one to light. You and I didn't do it for sure, and why would Elizabeth burn her own books. That leaves Cody," Becky said.

Peter sighed and stood up again, glancing down at Elizabeth and running his hand through his hair again. He nodded slightly. "Okay," he said. "Elizabeth, go upstairs to your room and make me a list of all the books you want. I'll make sure that we get the library restocked. I was in the house when this happened, I'll take responsibility for it. I'm going to go find Cody and have a talk with that young man."

It was strange, but Peter couldn't work up a good head of steam as he went up the stairs. Cody had been grounded to his room all week, though he had been allowed to join the others for meals. Now the room may seem as though it was a peaceful oasis for Cody to go to after committing such a crime as a book burning. Even Peter, who didn't read much, realized that there was something very wrong with burning books.

Somewhere in the back of Peter's mind he felt some sympathy for Cody. The teenager kept getting it wrong at every turn. The rules were well stated, and clear, and it amazed Peter that Cody continued to disobey in spite of the repeated, and harsh, warnings that he needed to get back in line. Having spoken to Becky, he knew that there wasn't a lot of information about Cody, and it seemed as though perhaps the boy had been spoiled by his parents, or at least that they hadn't been particularly strong in their discipline.

Still, it struck Peter funny that only four days after finishing a four day spanking (the strapping from Becky and then three nightly paddlings from Peter) that Cody would take a risk and stick his hand in the fire again. However, as Peter tried to pursue that line of thinking, he couldn't provide another person who might have set the fire. Lizzie wouldn't have burned her own books, Becky was outside and Jackson was with her, and Peter had been... Well, he'd been in the kitchen cleaning, and he could account for his own whereabouts.  And that left Cody. There was no way for Peter to get around it. Cody had lit the fire and thrown the books into it. Which was more, he had motive to do so, considering that Lizzie had told Becky about the pornography on the computer.

He didn't even hesitate in front of Cody's door. Instead, Peter shoved the door open and stood in the doorway with his hands on his hips. Cody looked up from where he was sitting on his bed and playing his guitar. The instant smile that had come to his face faded immediately, and Peter was sure that had something to do with the expression on his face. There was no heat in his cheeks or rolling down his neck and he couldn't even muster the anger in his heart. At least he was going to deliver this punishment stone cold calm, but somehow that made him feel wrong about the entire thing. His mother had always been angry when she'd taken the paddle to his backside.

With a sudden inward curse, Peter realized that he'd forgotten the paddle downstairs. It now hung on a peg in the kitchen. There it stood not only as a reminder of what would happen to naughty children, but also where it was within easy reach. Peter didn't plan on taking this punishment into the kitchen, so that left him with either his hand or the belt that he was wearing around his waist. Well, that was going to have to do.

"What were you thinking, Cody?" His own voice sounded more weary than it did angry, and Peter noticed that the teenager visibly relaxed.

"What do you mean?" Cody asked. "I thought... I figured I'd sit up here and play the guitar for a while. I was gonna ask Ms. Becky about lessons, but I figure she's still pretty pissed off at me," he added.

Cody blushed, and Peter rolled his eyes. Now the anger was beginning to come, and the back of his neck was getting hot quickly. "Right now she's extremely upset with you. You got that right. How could you throw all those books into the fireplace, Cody? And then set fire to them? What is wrong with you?"

Cody blinked several times and put the guitar down next to him, slowly climbing off the bed. "Is that what I heard? The smoke alarm? Somebody set fire to the library or something?"

Peter let out a growl. His face was growing hotter, and his muscles were bunching up. Any hope of not getting angry was now diminished. "Stop playing dumb, Mr. York. You're the only person who could have set that fire, and neither Becky nor I is stupid. You're still upset because Elizabeth told us what you had on your computer and you thought you'd get back at her by taking something away that she loves. It doesn't work that way, Cody. The books are coming back. Your computer is not."

The teenager rolled his eyes and turned his head away. "We've talked about this over and over and over again. Why can't you just let it drop? I get it, okay? My butt was toast for four days to make sure I got it. You don't need to keep going on and on about it!"

The raised voice had Peter two steps toward Cody, his hand raised. At the last minute he balled his fingers and shoved his hand into his pocket, barely controlling the impulse to strike out. More and more lately he was understanding his mother's temper and her tendency to punish him in anger. Now Peter was seeing red behind his eyes, and that was about all it took. "Get your jeans and shorts down, Mr. York," Peter said. "Maybe a week of nightly spankings will get through to you this time. You're grounded until further notice. Get them down!"

Cody slid off the bed. His hands were trembling and there were already tears in his eyes. Peter stood, hands on his hips, and watched the teenager as he put his hands on the button of his pants and popped it open. His fingers were on the zipper when he stopped again. "Mr. Peter, I didn't do nothin'," he said in a weak voice.

Peter rolled his eyes and took a deep, slow breath. "You set fire to the library books, one. For another, you had smoke billowing out into the Great Room. The fire could have spread that way, and you put all of us in danger. This is very, very serious business. Come to think of it," Peter said, his hands on his belt. He flipped the buckle and began to pull the belt through its loops. There was no way that his hand was going to do the job, and he didn't trust Cody not to run if he went after the paddle.

Cody froze, his eyes locked on Peter's hands. Taking no mind of him, Peter pulled the belt out and then doubled it over. "If you can't get those pants and shorts down for me, I'm going to have to take care of it myself. Since four days of this didn't get through to you the last time, you can have six days of my belt this time. Maybe the next time you think of destroying or interfering with another person's property you'll think twice. Because if it happens again, we may just call the police, and you can spend a night in jail. Understand me?"

"You cuh-can't," Cody said, his hand holding his jeans up as though he was desperate to keep them on. "You wouldn't cuh-call the police."

"It's your choice," Peter said, changing tactics very quickly. "Either get those jeans and shorts down or I will call the cops to come and show you what happens to people who steal and who light fires. Arson is a crime. You're plenty old enough to know that. If something had happened to any of the people who live here, you're old enough to be tried as an adult for manslaughter. Get the pants and shorts down."

Tears were already rolling down Cody's cheeks, and though Peter felt a momentary twinge of sympathy for him, and felt relieved when the boy finally pushed his zipper down and began to lower his jeans (to the ankles, as Peter had taught him), he knew that this was something that had to be done. The more that he thought about it, the more that he realized that Cody's current actions had him on his way to a criminal trial if things didn't change. It was Peter's (and Becky's) job to make sure that didn't happen, and if he had to scare the hell out of Cody to get the desired results, he was going to scare the hell out of Cody to get the desired results.

"Please, Mr. Peter," Cody said. His voice was small, and it cracked as he let out a sob. "Please not with the strap. Please not on the bare."

"Get your shorts down, Mr. York, or I will do it for you. Right now."

Cody hesitated a moment, his shaking hands on the waistband of his boxers. Frustrated, Peter was at the end of his rope. All questions had flown from his mind. He was tired of the stalling. Without giving Cody another chance, he put his right hand on the back of the boy's neck and pushed him down onto the bed, doing the work for the teenager, who didn't seem capable of doing it himself. Cody's torso was stretched out over the comforter and his backside was thrust over the edge. His knees were off the ground but his feet balanced him a little bit. With his left hand, Peter tugged down Cody's boxers. "Next time I tell you to do something, you do it, unless you want me to call the police and have you detained overnight," he said firmly. "Now you stay right there."

Peter gathered the doubled belt into his right hand, putting his left hand down on Cody's back to hold him in place. "Since six didn't seem to make a dent in your attitude, I'm only going to stop when I'm sure that you've got it, Mr. York. You could have set this entire house on fire." As though responding to the words, the heat rose to Peter's cheeks, and he felt a surge of anger when he thought what could have happened to all of them. "People could have died, Mr. York! People could have died because you are a careless and selfish little boy. I have to make sure that never happens again. Stay put!"

The boy was trembling as Peter finally let his hand go off Cody's back and raised his belt. He had no experience of using one of these, though he'd been on the receiving end a number of times. He knew that the teenager would feel as though he was being torn in two, and there would come a moment when he wanted to die, and then another when he was sure he was, indeed, dying. He couldn't, and wouldn't relent until Cody was ready to say that he was sorry for the entire incident, to ask for forgiveness. Peter wouldn't trust him again until he had proven that he was worth trusting, and that would take a very, very long time.

Peter raised the belt high and brought it down in a wide arc that caught Cody across the fullest swell of his backside, the folded tip of the belt creating a deep bruise in the middle of the teen's right cheek, the stripe turning white, then faintly red and only slightly puffy. Peter would give this all he got if it would mean that Cody and the others wouldn't suffer more because of the stupid mistakes that the boy continued to make.

Beneath the stroke of the belt the fourteen year-old screamed, his entire body pushing up off the bed and his legs kicking behind him. "No!" Cody cried, his body twisting as though by doing so he could escape another stroke. But Peter was slow and deliberate, and the belt was still low.

"Back into place," Peter said in a low tone of voice. He put his hand on Cody's shoulder and rolled the boy back onto his belly. "I decide when this is done, not you, though my decision is determined by your behavior. You stay where I put you or I'm going to have to call Ms. Becky up here to hold you down."

Cody gasped, and Peter stared down at the rising welt. He winced, knowing that the pain had to be brutal, his anger dissipating at least a little bit. This time he put his left hand down on Cody's back, holding the teenager in place as he applied a second stroke of the belt, aiming for just below the first. Because he was leaning over Cody, it wasn't nearly as hard, and didn't arc as much, though the effect on the teenager was profound. Cody jumped, his entire body moving against Peter's hand as the man graciously held him in place. He howled again, and there was snot and tears rolling down his cheeks. "Not Becky! Please don't make her see! Please!" Cody said.

Peter nodded. "Not as long as you stay in place," he said, pausing between strokes for the full effect. "Do you have anything to say about what you did, throwing all of the books from the library into the fire?"

"I didn't do it!" Cody cried. He gripped the comforter hard between his fingers and pulled it to him. Peter knew that the boy was looking for the comfort that he wasn't getting from Peter, and he sighed, shaking his head.

"Well then," Peter said. The belt rose again and fell, imprecisely this time, cutting across both of the previous two welts, the folded end nicking the first welt and creating a bruise that turned purple almost immediately.

"Argh!" Cody cried. "Please! Uh Pluh-please stop!" He was sobbing so hard now that his entire body was shaking, and his feet were drumming a tattoo on the floor beneath them. "I didn't... I didn't luh-light a fire! I uh don't know what you're uh talking about, I juh-just heard the alarm! Stop! Luh-listen to me!"

"There's nothing to listen to," Peter said, reaching down to reposition the teenager so that his backside was a better target. "Until you are ready to admit that you did wrong and start apologizing, there's nothing that I need to hear."

It wasn't typical of Peter to talk during a spanking of any kind, and so he closed his mouth and raised the belt again, still handicapped by the fact that he was holding Cody down. The belt swung up and then fell at the top part of Cody's thighs, just like Becky had done last week. The welt there rose quickly, and Cody's legs kicked out desperately. This time Peter didn't give another moment for the boy to speak, beg or squirm. He lashed the belt down again, catching him right where bottom and thighs met, in the tender "sit spots."

Cody screamed, pounding his head against the bed, his hands gripping the bedspread tightly as his feet drummed. "No! No! Uh... No!"

Peter shook his head. Cody's backside was already a mess, and he could clearly remember the effect of Becky's strapping the previous week. She had used a much heavier strap than Peter's belt, and it hadn't been folded. The teenager had been left with a mass of welts on his backside, and already Peter could see that he must be much stronger than Becky. There were two bruises and the welts were a deep and puffy red. Cody wasn't going to be sitting down any time soon at all.

Taking a deep breath, Peter raised the belt again. "This stops when you're ready to admit that you did wrong, Mr. York. Until then, we're going to keep going. If you want to sit down some time this week, you might want to think about confessing."

Peter didn't wait for an answer, but the belt fell again. He released his pressure from Cody's back and let the belt swing higher, falling harder than the previous several strokes. It cut across the part of Cody's backside where it was just beginning to rise, and the tend wrapped around his hip. Peter winced as the teenager let out an agonized wail, throwing his hand back and rubbing madly at his hip. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" he cried, and Peter knew that the pain had become too great for the teenager. "Puh-lease! Stop! I won't... I won't ever again! I promise. Just please stop!"

That was all that Peter needed to hear. He raised the belt one final time and brought it down hard enough to make an impression. Then, without another word, he threaded it back through its loops and stood back, his hands on his hips. Cody's bottom was a mass of welts, and there were several bruises as well. In at least one place it looked as though he might have broken the skin, and Peter winced. He could remember all too clearly what that felt like. "Six days, Cody. For the next six days you have an appointment with my paddle. Maybe by the time the week is over I'll have made a real impression on you, young man. Until then, you're grounded. I'll see you tomorrow evening. My day off, I might add. You could have killed everybody in this house, and there is no excuse for that kind of behavior!" Peter snapped.

With that he turned on his heels and left the room. He took the stairs down to the first floor and went by Lizzie's room to pick up her list of books, and then found Becky in the kitchen. "I guess I've got some shopping to do," he sighed. "Has the fire burned out?"

Becky nodded. "Yes," she said. "You talk to Lizzie?"

"She's fine, I think," Peter said. "I think that getting some new books eased the pain of losing the old ones, to be honest."

Becky smiled and touched his arm. Uncomfortable, he pulled away, his cheeks heating up at her touch.

"Everybody's fine, Peter," Becky said. "We're all going to survive this. How's Cody?"

"Sore, I'm sure," Peter said. "And he's going to be sore for at least a week. I made him an appointment with the paddle for the next six nights, before supper. He can sit on it and think about what he's done," he added. "If you'll excuse me.... I need a drink," he added with a sigh. Peter ran his hand back through his shaggy blonde hair.

"Okay," Becky said. "Come back for supper. Okay?"

"I'll try," Peter said. He headed home, desperate for a stiff drink. It had turned into a long day.