Wednesday's practice

Lisa's pov

I walked out of the locker room into the gym, holding my one sheet of paper. Coach Mott intercepted me.

"You have your assignment done?"

He knew damn well I didn't have time to do that assignment. I let my temper get the best of me.

"Here!" I said, shoving the paper into his hand. I was unjustifiably proud of myself.

Coach Mott unfolded the piece of paper, read my sole sentence, and his face turned a shade of reddish purple I've only ever seen before on vegetables. That must be where the phrase purple with rage comes from. Huh, you learn something new everyday.

"Do you think this is funny?" He was literally shaking, he was so angry.

Truth be told, I did kinda think it was funny. I was thinking that less by the minute though. I didn't know what to say so I just kept my mouth shut.

"Now, you can write Mr. Mott ten thousand times or you'll be benched for the next three games!" he yelled in my face, clearly unamused. "You can run laps today, instead of practicing with the team, and don't bother dressing tomorrow, unless you tell your guardians why you're going to be benched."

By the end of practice, he seemed more hurt than angry. For some reason, that was worse. I wish I never wrote that one sentence: MR. MOTT ONE THOUSAND TIMES. What the hell was I thinking?

Thursday's game

Lisa's pov

I walked out of the locker room in uniform and warmed up with the team. When it was time for the game to start, I took a seat on the bench. Coach Mott came up to me.

"Since you're dressed, I assume you told your guardians why you won't be playing for the next three games."

I just nodded my head yes, not wanting to verbalize the lie. I see Mike and Shane watching from the bleachers and wonder how long it will take them to figure out what's going on. As I predicted, it's a close game. We're pretty evenly matched with the other team so the points alternate frequently. I wish I was out there helping my team.

Shane's pov

Mike asks, "Why isn't Lisa playing? Did she get injured during warm ups?"

"Not that I know of. I missed the first half of warm ups but from what I saw she certainly didn't appear to be hurt." I look down at Lisa sitting on the bench. As soon as she sees me, she quickly looks away.

"I think something's wrong."

Mike asks, "Why do you say that? Maybe Fred is just giving second string some court time."

"Except, there's only one second string player on the court. I'm pretty sure he's benched Lisa on purpose."

"Why do you s'pose?" Mike asks.

"I don't know but I intend to find out."

After the game

Coach Mott walks up to Mike and I.

I say, "Tough loss, Coach, but it was a good game."

Coach Mott replies, "I'm surprised to see you both here."

"What do you mean? We always try to make the girls' games."

Coach Mott replies, "Yeah, but knowing Lisa wouldn't be playing, I didn't think you'd make the drive out here." Mike and I exchange a look that doesn't go unnoticed by Coach Mott. "She didn't tell you, did she?"

I answer, "No sir, she did not. Why did you bench her?"

Coach Mott proceeds to fill Mike and I in on the last two days. He tells us Lisa called him Fred. He tells us she wrote the one sentence instead of the full assignment, which I was supposed to sign. He tells us she lied to him so she could dress for the game, in hopes we wouldn't find out.

Mike and I become more upset with each revelation. Mike begins pacing as soon as he hears about the lies. Dishonesty is to him one of the most egregious sins. I cup my chin with my left hand and take slow calming breaths as soon as I hear how Lisa disrespected Coach Mott. I cannot tolerate disrespect.

"I apologize for her behavior, Fred, and I assure you she will be properly disciplined."

Lisa walks out of the locker room to find her two very unhappy guardians waiting. Our arms are crossed over our chests and we both have very stern looks on our faces.

"You have a lot of explaining to do when we get home, young lady."

Lisa's pov

The car ride home was uncomfortable, to say the least, the awkward silence broken only by angry exhaling.

Shane pulls into his parking spot and turns to face me.

"In the conference room, NOW!"

"Yes sir." No good ever comes from discussions in the conference room. Both Mike and Shane follow me in. Great, they're double teaming me.

Shane commands, "Take a seat."

I sit down as instructed.

"Mike and I would like to know why you didn't play in today's game."

Avoiding eye contact, I respond, "I don't know."

Shane's voice is rising in volume.

"You don't know? Think hard. There has to be a reason."

"I don't know. Maybe he was mad. I was kinda goofing around during practice Tuesday."

Mike says, "Define goofing around."

"I don't know. Just stupid stuff, like kickin' the ball instead of hittin' it, laughing during drills and stuff."

Mike asks, "You were the only one goofing around?"

"No."

"Then why were you the only one benched?"

"I don't know. I guess Coach just blamed me."

"So that's the only reason you were benched? You'll play in the next game then?"

"Yeah, I guess."

Mike, getting angrier by the second, says, "Yeah I guess is not an appropriate answer. I want a definitive answer, Lisa. Is that the only reason you were benched?"

"Yes sir."

As I see Mike grab his belt, my heart sinks into my stomach. Shit, they know more than I thought.

In a split second (no one pulls a belt through pant loops faster than Mike), he has his belt doubled over in his left hand and he reaches to pull me out of the chair and over his right leg as he props it up on the chair next to me.

He starts striking my butt with his belt.

"HOW DARE YOU SIT THERE AND LIE TO US!" He continues to spank me repeatedly with the belt, until I'm in tears. He's delivering the strokes so hard and fast, I lose count.

Mike stands me up.

Looking me in the eyes, he says, "Unless you want round two, you better produce an honest answer, and I'm only going to ask you once. WHY WERE YOU BENCHED TODAY?"

I wipe the tears from my eyes. I'm not sure exactly how much they know but as I feel the searing heat radiating from my behind, I don't want to risk receiving round two, so I confess everything.

"UNBELIEVABLE, LISA! You've been lying to us and Coach Mott for three days now. What do you have to say for yourself?"

"I didn't think it was that big of a deal. You guys are totally blowing this out of proportion just like I knew you would. That's why I didn't tell you. Coach Mott was being a total dick about the whole thing. Geez! I was just goofing around and he totally flipped."

The more I said, the louder I said it, and the more my words came out unfiltered. I was breathing heavily now and my cheeks were beet red, both sets of cheeks actually. Did I really just call Coach Mott a dick out loud, right in front of their faces? Judging by Shane's enraged reaction, I definitely crossed the line.

With ice in his veins, Shane looks me in the eyes and sternly says, "Put your hands on the table and assume the position."

"No, please, Shane, Mike already..." I halfheartedly plead. I know my mouth just wrote a big fat check my ass is about to cash. What the hell was I thinking mouthing off after Mike just whipped my butt? I could feel the searing pain his belt delivered to my behind but my adrenaline was pumping and I just couldn't hold my tongue.

Shane slowly removes his belt, never taking his eyes off me. Why oh why didn't I just keep my big mouth shut? Julie warned me I thought, as I couldn't help replaying her ominous words in my head from our conversation Sunday, "Don't be surprised if he does the same to you." I really should have listened to my sister and kept out of trouble. I know I'm really in for it now as I cringe, watching Shane fold his thick leather belt over.

"Not another word, Lisa. Mike disciplined you for lying. This is for disrespecting your coach when you called him by his first name and for disrespecting us by using foul language."

And for disrespecting Kimberly at dinner the other night, I think to myself.

"HANDS ON THE TABLE NOW. I WILL NOT TELL YOU AGAIN!" Shane slowly punctuates every word for emphasis.

I don't dare challenge him. I know he's pissed and he means business but most of all, I know he's completely justified in delivering this punishment, for a couple of reasons. I put my hands on the table, bend over, and brace myself.

I jump at the first stroke as he manages to hit a spot Mike has already thoroughly punished. I wait for Shane to admonish me for moving but he doesn't, choosing instead to deliver two strokes in rapid succession on the underside of my bottom. I bite my tongue, to keep from yelping out in pain.

Two more rapid strokes on my sit spots. Shane manages to crack the belt right above the skin, so all I feel is the stinging aftermath, which is much worse than the full-on belt, in my opinion. Shane alternates two more strokes on each buttock with laser precision, hitting the same spot each time, creating red welts, even with the protection of my shorts. Two more strokes right below my lower back and he's done.

He throws his belt down in frustration.

"Apologize, then go to your room!"

I turn slowly and wipe my eyes. Seeing the anger and disappointment on both their faces makes this task so much more difficult. Ashamed and in a lot of pain, I'm not in the mood to be comforted. I mumble a quick, "Sorry," before retreating to my room, rubbing my very sore bottom on the way out.