Voyagers!
Now He's Done It
by
Jake Crepeau

Bogg:

He's done it this time. There's only one way to handle this, and I'm not ashamed to admit, I don't like it one bit. "This hurts me more than it hurts you" is a cliché that almost goes back to my own time, I think, but that doesn't make it any less true.

I don't think I've ever seen a kid react the way he does to a scolding. Annoyed, yes—and don't get me wrong, he's done that plenty of times—but there are also times when the kid positively wilts if I give him so much as a stern is going to kill him...and maybe, just maybe, that means I'll never have to do it again.

We land in a secluded wooded area, and before he can do more than sit up and clear his head, I grab him, haul him over my knee, and land half a dozen good swats. When I let him up, he stares at me for a minute, then turns and runs off. I let him go; I doubt he'll go far.

He doesn't. He goes about twenty feet, sits down on the ground and is just very quiet. He's trying to hide the fact that he's crying. I don't blame him; I feel like crying myself. I know I'm going to be seeing that look in his eyes in my nightmares for a while. Will somebody please tell me why I feel like I just betrayed him somehow?

Jeffrey:

I don't believe it. I don't want to believe it. He just spanked me! What I did wasn't that bad...was it? I can't even stand to look at him right now; I just go off a little ways to get the tears out of my eyes, only they won't stop coming. I can't explain it, but somehow this hurts worse—inside—than anything I ever got from my parents.

I finally manage to stop crying, and I sneak a glance over my shoulder at him. He isn't looking at me at all; he's sitting there where we landed, kind of hunched over, with this look on his face like somebody just ripped his guts out. I'm not sure, I can't tell at this distance, but I think maybe he's crying, too, and that hurts worst of all, 'cause I know I'm the one that did the ripping.

They used to say it as a joke in some real old cartoons and movies... You know, "This hurts me more than it hurts you." I always thought it was the corniest thing I ever heard, but now I'm not so sure. I can't stand to look at him anymore; it hurts too much.

But I can't leave him like that! I just can't! He looks like he needs a hug more than I do!

Bogg:

I think I've let him stew long enough; I know I've stewed long enough. I look over toward him, but he's not there. Worried, I start to look around, half coming to my feet, when a hand touches my shoulder, very lightly, almost hesitantly.

It's him, and he's completely dry-eyed. Heaven help me, he looks more like he's worried about me! I snatch him up in one of my best bear-hugs, and he squeezes me right back. He sniffs a little and says in a very small voice, "I don't ever want to make you have to do that again."

Mission accomplished.

- Finis -