Misc story. This is one of my favorites. Gabriela (Gabi) and her friends are celebrating the end of the school year with loud music and speed. It's a great time until the cops crash the party. And then Gabi makes some bad decisions that make even her older brother want to spank her. So he does.
by Breanna Carter
Can you please point me to your chemicals?
I need to feel like I’ve got rocks in my eyelids.
The only superhero I’ve ever known was you, about 5 years ago.
It was you about 5 years ago.
~Armor for Sleep~
The last day of school is a day for parties. It doesn’t matter if it’s the last day of first grade, tenth grade, or college… it’s a party day. Remember when you were a little kid and that last day was especially reserved for fun? I remember being in third grade and having a fiesta, equipped with chips and salsa, Mexican hats, and a piñata. Of course, as you get older, the parties begin to differ. In middle school we just hung out all day, listening to our portable cd players and gossiping about summer plans. In high school we had parties after school… parties at a friend’s house, late at night, with lots of illegal substances involved. The last day of school my tenth grade year was just that: five teenaged girls in one lone apartment, staying up all night and popping speed -- the same fun factor as piñatas were in third grade.
“Oooh! I have a song that you’ll absolutely LOVE!” my friend, Jessica, shrieked as the pills we’d taken only a few minutes before started to kick in. She danced to the song that was already playing as she walked to the cd player to be our DJ for the night, seeing as it was her apartment we were crashing. Lucky bitch… her parents actually gave her the apartment to herself sometimes. Some of us weren’t so fortunate… my older brother, Carlos, was ALWAYS home!
My best friend, Laura, nudged me. “Hey,” she whispered, “are you feeling it yet?”
Truthfully, I wasn’t quite sure because I’d never taken speed before. Things seemed a little out of focused and rushed, but I wasn’t sure if it was because of the adrenaline, placebo effect, or the actual drug. I went with the former, whispering back to Laura, “I don’t think so. Are you?”
She shook her head. “Let’s go for a smoke. It’ll help time pass.”
I nodded and followed her out to the balcony, cigarette pack in one hand, lighter in the other. It was nerve racking, standing there just waiting… waiting for some little white pill to do something majestic to me, something so majestic that I would be talking to my friends about it for years after. It would be known as “my first time” and like Jessica and the other girls, all of whom were 17 or 18 and had taken speed before, I would recall this experience in every party thereafter and shake my head while claiming that it would never be the same.
Laura and I didn’t talk, just puffed on one of the hundreds of cigarettes we would puff through in the night, taking in the warm evening air and listening to the crickets in the distance. We could hear the music inside and Jessica singing along, which was mildly entertaining for a couple of minutes.
After finishing the first cigarette, we lit another and Laura started tapping her foot. I didn’t really notice it at first, until it started getting on my nerves a bit. Then I realized that I felt this rush of energy and I started moving around, too, although I was twitching instead of tapping. “Holy shit,” I muttered, gripping a hold of the railing on the balcony to keep myself from falling over.
“You okay?” Laura asked as if she were far away. I looked up to see her through the dizziness and giggled. I couldn’t even muster up the strength to let her know that I was fine, just feeling a little goofy. She didn’t care, though… she’d forgotten by then because she was giggling, too.
We stepped the cigarettes out and went back inside where the music was loud and Jessica was dancing and singing. Selena was singing along, smoking a cigarette on the sofa, and Chloe was washing dishes. I dove into the couch, lying my head on Selena’s lap.
“What ya say, Gabi girl? You havin’ fun?” she asked, blowing smoke out of her nose.
I nodded my head, unable to sit still. Jessica seemed to be having a good time dancing, so I decided to join her. We joined hands and swung around, falling into a fit of giggles. Did I say this was the equivalent to a piñata party? I was wrong… this was so much better.
“Love Shack!” Jessica squealed, turning the volume up louder. It was the 80s hit and we knew all of the words to the whole song. Everyone was so excited that we all danced around, even Chloe left her dishwashing to join us.
“The love shack is a little old place, where, we can GET TOGETHER!!!” we shouted. “Love Shack baaabyyyy!”
Selena twirled me around and I fell, knocking over something in the process, but I couldn’t tell you what. Nor did I care. We were just having fun. Laura helped me back up, both of us cackling so much that we could barely hold ourselves up. I lit another cigarette and tried to stay out of everyone else’s way so I wouldn’t burn them. I observed the crowd for as long as possible, not quite sure what was going on with my head. Is this what drugs really felt like? Is this what they had all been talking about for so long? Did I like this? I wasn’t quite sure about any of the answers, too fucked up to make sense of my thoughts.
As the song ended, everyone bummed a smoke from me and we sat around the coffee table, puffing away and chattering about everything but nothing. The music wasn’t as loud by now (I’m not sure who turned it down), but every so often someone would begin singing and the rest would join in. Jessica had some damn good cds.
After about three cigarettes a piece, and moving nowhere in our conversation, Chloe pushed herself up. “I LOVE THIS SONG!” she shouted, and turned the volume up all the way. If I had been in my right mind, I would have ordered her to turn it down. After all, it was after two o’clock on a Thursday night and some people wanted to sleep. Unfortunately, I wasn’t in my right mind. And neither was anyone else. So instead of turning the music down, we danced and sang some more, spinning around and trying not to break anything else.
We didn’t stop after that first song. Or the second one. Or the third. We were like the energizer bunnies: we kept going and going and going and going and going. And then there was a loud pounding on the door. I didn’t even hear it. It was Selena who pushed through us and pried the door open, revealing not one, but two uniformed men.
Everyone stopped dancing. Jessica turned the music off. It was silent, except the occasional puff of a cigarette from my mouth… or was it Laura’s mouth?
I don’t know what the officer said, I let Selena deal with that. Something along the lines of disturbance calls and identification and whose apartment and could they search. Laura hit me and said “Give him your license.”
I dug in my pocket and handed it over, not quite sure why they needed it.
“Ma’am, you do realize that the smoking age is 18, right?” he asked.
I nodded, not getting his point. Then I realized I had a cigarette in my mouth. Shit! I quickly stubbed it out.
He shone a flashlight in my eyes and I looked away. “Have you taken anything?” he asked me. I didn’t like that he was talking to me now. I preferred for him to talk to Selena or anyone else, but not me!
Instead of waiting for my answer he talked softly to the other officer then moved inside. They wandered around, shining their flashlights around, looking for any pieces of evidence. I don’t know what came over me, but all of a sudden I knew I had to get out of there. I bolted from the apartment, running outside, then down the stairs. I ran through a maze of cars, faster than I’d ever run before, then onto the grass towards the highway. I heard noises behind me, but just ignored them, running as fast as I could.
I was almost there, almost to the highway when all of a sudden -- THUD! -- I was pushed to the ground. At first I thought someone was attacking me and was prepared to fight back, but as I felt the cold steel around my wrists, I knew that I wasn’t being attacked, but arrested.
He lifted me up, out of breath, then radioed the other officer: “I got her.”
Were the handcuffs really wrapped tightly around my wrists? Was his hand really on my shoulder, pushing me forward? Was he really taking me to the police car? A police car?! Did he really just open that door and shove me inside?
I leaned my head back against the backseat of the squad car, shifting my position so my arms wouldn’t hurt so much. What the hell had I done? What was going on?
I closed my eyes, trying to steady my spinning head, then opened them back up, glancing out of the window. Another squad car was now arriving and the officers were putting Chloe and Jessica inside, the two girls who were 18. Only they weren’t in handcuffs. They didn’t make a run for it like one stupid girl I know.
Another car arrived as the other sped off. This one was reserved for Laura and Selena. I wondered why I had to sit alone when all I wanted to do was chit chat with someone. I just needed some company. I’d have to invent an imaginary friend just to keep myself occupied.
I began tapping my foot impatiently, just ready for them to take me to juvi so I could get in a cell and talk to someone. Or at least walk around. This waiting thing was killing me.
After what seemed like hours, the two officers that interrupted our party got into their car. In third grade I’d never had this problem… no one ever tried to stop our parties.
“How are you this evening?” I asked the officers as they settled in.
The guy in the passenger’s seat, the one who had chased me down, gave me a weird look. Then he looked at his co-worker who shrugged, and turned back around to face the front, ignoring my question entirely.
I sighed. “Please talk to me,” I begged.
“Look… Gabriela, is it?” the driver asked me.
I nodded. “Yes, Gabriela is right.”
“It’s nearly three o’clock in the morning, and we’re pretty tired. It’s been a long night, and your party made it longer for us. So we don’t really feel like talking, okay?”
“Blah, you’re no fun then,” I answered. “No one ever ruined our parties in third grade.”
He didn’t ask what I was talking about, probably because he was too irritated. I don’t know if I dreamt it or not, but I think he and the other officer were talking about “teenagers these days.” I was under the impression that both of them had teen girls about my age, and they were all of a sudden worried that they were doing drugs. Whatever. A big whatever.
Of course, I wasn’t saying whatever when the officers took me into the station right behind Laura and Selena. By this time I was getting a little scared, the pills having worn off a little by this time. I sat in the waiting area by the officer, whose name I read to be “P. Johnson.” Selena was next to me on the hard white bench, looking more nervous than I felt. I wanted to comfort her, but the stillness of the room warned me against that.
By the time Selena was escorted to the room, I felt like I was dying. I needed a drink of water, my foot wouldn’t stop thumping, and I was beginning to feel like crashing. Officer P. Johnson stayed at my side the entire time, even when the juvi people talked to him, saying stuff like “busy night” and “times have changed.”
“Gabriela Marquez,” a bored woman called and Officer P. Johnson released the handcuffs, then practically pushed me into a small office. The bored woman handcuffed my left hand to her desk and began reading my charges to me. Disturbing the Peace. Possession of Tobacco. Possession of Controlled Substances. Resisting Arrest. I was apparently lucky that there were so many children who murdered and raped, because otherwise I’d have a spot in a jail cell next to a butch princess named Bubba. Could she have the number of my parent or guardian so s/he could come pick me up?
Sure, ma’am. His name is Carlos Marquez. He’s a probation office who has to work at the ass crack of dawn, so he’s probably sleeping right now, but what do I care? I’m still high as a kite and just want to see my brother so I can chat with someone, and maybe he can get me a glass of water.
I hope I didn’t really say everything I was thinking. Not that it mattered. She dialed the number that I’d recited by heart and I listened to it ringing. At first I thought it was because I could just hear really well, but then I realized that it was because it was on speaker phone.
The words exchanged were jumbled up. They were a mixture of my charges and Carlos’s sleepy voice, wondering where the hell I was. He was on his way… he’d be there as soon as he could make it.
Good. I’d have someone to talk to finally.
The woman escorted me to a holding cell where my friends and one other girl sat. Even better… someone close to my age to talk to! But they weren’t into talking.
The girl I didn’t know was the first to go. She was crying, pushing her dirty blonde hair out of her eyes. The guy who picked her up was tall and fairly young, with his messy brown hair covering his angry eyes. She scurried out of the holding cell, crying even harder.
Poor kid. She couldn’t have been older than 14.
Since no one was talking to me, I decided to lie down on the floor for a bit. My head was still spinning and I just needed some sleep. Just needed to get out of this horrible nightmare of police and handcuffs and jail cells and all of that mess.
“Gabriela Marquez!” I heard a voice shout.
I peeled my eyes open to see that the dream hadn’t gone away. I was still in the damn holding cell and the woman who had called Carlos was now standing in the doorway, beckoning me forth. At first I found it difficult to push myself up, but then when I looked around, I realized that I was the only hoodlum left and my brother was only inches behind the bored lady. After noting this, it was significantly easier to get myself off the floor.
The bored lady released me into Carlos’s care with a ticket telling me when my court date was. As we walked out of the door, I was about to tell him how happy I was to finally see him when he said, “if I thought you’d feel it, I’d spank you right here, right now.”
Um… maybe better not to express happiness at this time. Try regret, sorrowfulness, remorse, anything but happiness. “I’m sorry,” I said. Well, I tried.
“Not yet you’re not. Get in the car.”
It was a little difficult to get the door open because my hands were shaking so much, but I didn’t dare tell my brother that. I just tried to steady my body and grip the handle for long enough to get the damn thing open.
He started the car and I nervously buckled my seatbelt.
“So what’d you do tonight?” I asked.
He glared at me.
Hmm… okay, try a different approach. “I love you, Big Bro! You’re the best! Thank you for rescuing me from jail!”
“Gabriela, just shut up. It’s late, I’m tired, I have to work in the morning. I’m a little less than happy right now, and I’d prefer if you’d just keep your mouth shut.”
Fine, I didn’t want to talk to you anyway. I hope I didn’t say that out loud.
“You did,” Carlos said.
“Huh? Oh, I did? Oops. Sorry. I’ll try to shut my mouth now.”
I closed my mouth and leaned my head back, shutting my eyes. My wrists still hurt where the handcuffs had been. But it was only a dream… in a few minutes I’d wake up and be at Jessica’s house, puffing on a cigarette and listening to music.
“Gabriela, I’m not carrying you in. So get up,” I heard. The voice was distant, and I wasn’t even sure this person was talking to me. They must’ve been talking to another person named Gabriela, because they were so far away. “Gabi! Get up!” the voice demanded, and I felt my body being shaken. I thought about opening my eyes, but it required too much energy. I didn’t have anymore of that.
Whoever said they weren’t carrying the other Gabriela certainly didn’t mind carrying me, because moments later I felt myself being hauled up, and thrown over a shoulder. It was very uncomfortable, especially when my backside was swatted, but I still didn’t move. If this mysterious Gabriela-caller wanted to carry me and swat me, I didn’t mind, so long as he let me sleep.
I woke up the next morning with a pounding headache, an angry older brother storming through the house, and a comfy bed inviting me to sleep in it longer. My door swung open at exactly 6:17am and there Carlos stood, dressed in his probation officer uniform, hands on his hips.
“Gabriela Marquez, you’re one lucky girl, you know that?”
I groaned in response.
“I didn’t spank you last night because I knew you wouldn’t be able to feel it. I can’t spank you this morning because then I’ll be late. But you can bet your ass that I’m going to spank you this evening when I get in and you’re going to be one sorry little girl, do you understand me?”
Although a groan wasn’t the most appropriate response in the world, I couldn’t really muster up enough strength to utter anything else.
He walked off, not bothering to shut the door back. I would have shut it myself, but I was too sleepy, and cranky, and didn’t feel well. I just needed more sleep.
The second time I woke the house was silent. I had kicked my blankets off of me sometime during the morning and now I was just lying in my bed clad only in the T-shirt I’d worn the night before and my panties. I tried to piece the night together in my head as I pushed myself off of the bed, heading towards the bathroom to wash my face. Little by little everything started coming back to me. The fun part, with the pills and the dancing and singing, and then the crappy part, with the police and the jail and Carlos coming to pick me up.
I shuffled through the house after washing my face, then lazily plopped down on the couch. I felt sick to my stomach and my head still ached, but mostly I was worried. Worried about my legal problems, and worried about what Carlos had told me early in the morning: I was going to get spanked. And when I say spanked, I don’t mean a few swats over the jeans just for emphasis… I mean pants and panties down, lying face down on the bed, lashes with the belt. Just thinking about it makes me shiver.
I decided to watch tv instead of worrying myself with my impending punishment. Those happy cute families are always more interesting than real life anyway. I mean, really, do those types of families actually exist? If I were a character in a family-oriented show, my parents would sit me down and talk to me and discuss the dangers of drugs with me, and I would cry and tell them I’m sorry, and they would ground me for a couple of weeks, then we would cry together and hug and the ending credits would begin. Unfortunately, I’m not part of that sappy family story.
Instead, Carlos slammed the door when he came home. He pointed his finger at me and said in a stern voice, “You’re in BIG trouble.”
Heh, as if I couldn’t figure that one out.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing taking drugs?” he asked, walking towards me, hands on his hips. “Taking drugs, smoking cigarettes, resisting arrest, and disturbing the peace. What the hell was going through your mind?”
“I- I don’t know,” I stammered stupidly.
“Don’t know, huh? I guess you also didn’t know that drugs are illegal did you?”
I didn’t answer that question.
“And you also didn’t know that the rest of that shit was illegal? And you probably didn’t know that the cops called me at 3:30 this morning, less than three hours before I had to get up to go to work.”
I looked down at the floor, biting my lower lip.
“I still would like to know what the hell you were thinking,” he said after a moment of silence, now walking in front of me and lifting my chin up so I had to look in his eyes.
I didn’t have an answer. I didn’t know what I was thinking.
“Smoking,” he said, counting on his fingers, “drugs, loud music, RUNNING from a police officer. Are you crazy? Are you trying to get yourself killed?”
I shook my head.
“Trying to get yourself put in jail?”
Shook my head again.
“Then what, Gabriela? Then what were you trying to do?”
I swallowed a lump in my throat. “N-nothing,” I said, lower lip quivering. “I was just trying to have fun.”
“FUN?!” he shouted, and I jumped a little. “Fun, huh? Just trying to have a little bit of fun.” He shook his head, getting angrier by the moment.
“I’m sorry,” I stammered. “I didn’t realize the music was so loud… that the cops were going to come…” I began, but was quickly cut off. I saw the hand coming towards my face first, then heard the loud clap against my skin, then felt my cheekbone burn. Instantly, I reached up and cupped my hand over it, now crying.
“Just pull down your pants,” he ordered. “You don’t even realize what you’ve done, do you? Pull them down!”
I hurriedly stood up and unbuttoned my jeans, sliding them down to the floor and stepping out of them. He grabbed my upper arm, hauling me to my room, letting go of me once we were at my bed. I saw him begin to unbuckle his belt through my tears, and that just made my crying worse.
“Please, Carlos, I’m sorry. Please no.”
“Lay down,” he replied, sliding the belt out of the loops of his pants, then folding it over, finally laying my pillow down in the middle of the bed.
I wanted to resist, to beg him not to spank me, but after all, he was the one holding the belt, and he was bigger and stronger than I would ever be. I would never win that fight. I suddenly wished that I was one of the kids in one of those families they show on tv.
“NOW!” Carlos ordered, swinging the belt so that it lashed against my panty-clad bottom.
I yelped and did as ordered, lying over my pillow. I held onto the bed sheets, closing my eyes tightly, praying that he would at least allow me the dignity of keeping my panties up. Yeah right. He tugged them down to my knees instantly and I didn’t even have time to enjoy the cool air on my naked bottom before he started spanking me.
When I was a kid I used to think the first blow was the worst because it always caught me by surprise. But this day, I changed my mind. The second blow was just as bad, as was the third, and fourth. He didn’t even give me time to regain myself between the lashes, just kept crashing his damn belt down onto my poor pitiful bottom. I was writhing in pain.
“I don’t know what the hell was going on through your mind last night, Gabriela,” Carlos scolded after a few smacks, then gave me another lick. “Are you ready to start making funeral arrangements?” he asked, hitting me a few more times before I could catch my breath.
“Noooo, Carlos… I’m sorry!” I wailed.
“Sorry, huh? Sorry for what?” he asked.
“For doing something so stupid.”
“Stupid is right,” he answered, crashing the belt several times onto my throbbing bottom. “You could have KILLED yourself, Gabriela.”
“I knowwwww,” I answered, kicking my legs and sobbing, gripping tighter onto the sheets.
“You’re going to throw your life away if you get messed up in drugs.”
I bit my lip to keep from screaming out as he spanked me, now hitting my sit spots and every so often catching my thigh. My backside felt like it was on fire!
“And then running from the police!” he said, getting angrier and hitting me really hard a couple of times. “I have never heard of anyone doing something so completely and utterly stupid!” After saying that, he lost himself in spanking me for a little while and quit with the lectures. Not that it mattered… by that time I was in so much pain that I could barely concentrate on his words anyway. Maybe he realized that and that’s why he stopped talking.
I don’t know how long I lay there with the belt biting into my bottom… it felt like hours! When he finally stopped, he put his belt back on, sighed, and sat down next to me. I was bawling like a three year old whose candy had been stolen. He patted my back for a second then said, “I’ll give you a chance to regain your composure and wash up. Then I want to speak with you in the dining room.”
I nodded, still crying as he walked out.
If I had felt guilty during the day, I felt even worse now. Carlos had been right… I could ruin my life with drugs, especially when I do something like running from the police. Who knew that one could be so stupid and get into so much trouble by just taking one little pill?
Who knew that Carlos could swing the belt so hard? My bottom still ached after I’d cried myself out. And it really hurt whenever I stood up. I realized why whenever I took a peek in the mirror before pulling my panties up: my bottom was bruised all over, but mainly in the sit spot areas! I wouldn’t be able to sit comfortably for a long time. I guess that was the point.
I tugged my panties up and hobbled to the bathroom where I washed my face and cleaned up. Then I hobbled to the dining room where my brother was sitting at the table, a yellow tablet of paper in front of him.
“Have a seat,” he said.
I eased down into the chair, wincing as my tender flesh met the hard wood of the chair.
“I got two of your charges dropped.”
“You did?” I asked, kind of surprised. I guess that was the benefit of having a probation officer for an older brother.
He nodded. “I got the smoking and disturbing the peace charges dropped. But we need to have a little talk about this. Since when did you start smoking?”
I shrugged. “A couple of weeks ago.”
“Well, it’s stopping today. Do you understand?”
“And the drugs?”
I shook my head. “Last night was my first time, I promise. And the last time,” I added.
He nodded. “Good.” He sighed and leaned back against his chair. “Gabriela, I just care about you, okay? I don’t want you messing up your life with drugs and problems with the law. I see drug addicts every day. They’re underweight, look like shit, don’t have a home, have lost everything. You’re too smart to be like that. Don’t you realize what you could have done?”
“That’s why they’re illegal.”
“I know, Carlos. I just wasn’t thinking… but if something like this ever happens again, I’ll think about it,” I assured him, rubbing my bottom.
He smiled and pushed the yellow notepad towards me. “I got those two charges taken off so they wouldn’t be on your record, and so hopefully you won’t have to spend time in the detention center. Of course, after a couple of weeks, you would probably rather be there than here…” he said. “Here’s a list of the chores I expect you to complete until your court date. And I also want you to know that you’re not allowed to leave the house until further notice. Any questions?”
I glanced at the piece of paper in front of me. Chores would be a bitch, especially with a sore bottom, but I don’t think I had much of a choice. So I just shook my head and took the notebook with me to retrieve my pants. I read my first chore: “Mow the lawn.” Fun. So I slipped my shoes on and headed out the back door, noting the slight smirk on Carlos’s face. He always hated yard work, and now he had an excuse not to do it. I winced when I bent down to crank the mower and realized that my “first time” was definitely memorable, but the spanking would be something I’d leave out of my future story-tellings.