I went up to the attic and started reading one of Pa's adventure stories, _Tarzan of the Apes_, by the Frenchman, Jules Verne. Pa had all of Verne's books, each of them crisply autographed on the inside cover. He'd met Verne on one of his diplomatic missions, and the two had been like two peas in a pod, to hear him tell of it -- they both subscribed to all the same crazy journals. I was reading my favorite part, where Tarzan meets the man in the balloon, when Mama's voice called from downstairs. "James Arthur Nicholson! Get your behind down here _now_!" I jumped like I was stung and rattled down the attic stairs so fast I nearly broke my neck and then down into the parlour, where Mama was holding my report card and looking fit to bust. "Yes, Mama?" I said. "What is it?" She handed me the report card and folded her arms over her chest. "Explain that, mister. Make it good." I read the card and my eyes nearly jumped out of my head. The rotten so-and-so had given me F's all the way down, in every subject. Below, in his seaman's hand, he'd written, "James' performance this semester has disappointed me gravely. I would like it very much if I could meet with you and he, Mrs Nicholson, at your earliest convenience, to discuss his future at the Academy. Signed, Rbt. Adelson." Mama grabbed my ear and twisted. I howled and dropped the card. Before I knew what was happening, she had me over her knee and was paddling my bottom with her open hand, hard. "I don't" -- whack -- "know _what_" -- whack -- "you think" -- whack -- "you're doing, James." -- whack -- "If your _father_" -- whack, _whack_ -- "were here," -- whack -- "he'd switch you" -- whack -- "within an inch of your life." And she gave me a load more whacks. I was too stunned even to cry or howl. Pa had only beat me twice in all the time I'd known him. Mama had _never_ beat me. My bottom ached distantly, and I felt tears come to my eyes. "Well, what do you have to say for yourself?" "Mama, it's a mistake --" I began. "You're durn right!" she said. "No, really! I did all my homework! I passed all the exams! I showed 'em to you! You saw 'em!" The unfairness of it made my heart hammer in time to the throbbing of my backside. Mama's breath fumed angrily out of her nose. "You go straight to your room and _stay there_. We're going to see Mr Adelson first thing tomorrow morning." "What about my chores?" I said. "Oh, don't worry about that. You'll have _plenty_ of chores to do when I let you out." I went to my room and stripped down, and lay on my tummy and cracked my window so the icy winter air blew over my backside. I cried a vale of tears, and rained down miserable, mean curses on everyone: Mama, Pa, and especially the lying, snaky, backstabbing Runnyguts Adelson. #