The cold morning wind stung my cheeks.

"This is so unfair!"

"Stop whining and act your age!" said my mother, holding my hand tightly as she pulled me at a fast clip down the sidewalk to the principal's office, her high heels clicking on the concrete.

"Grace has an appointment with Principal Hightower," Mom told the prim, spectacled secretary. "I'm her mother. I have to sign some kind of permission."

The secretary toggled the intercom.

She announced sweetly, "Grace Brackenridge for her morning CP."

He opened the inner office door. "Come in, Grace."

In my woolen plaid skirt, his office felt warm and stuffy, smelling of mold and chalk. I felt hot from our brisk walk. Perspiration beaded my upper lip.

Reading the note from Timmy's teacher, he scolded me to tears. "You did do your brother's homework, right?"

I never expected him to ask directly.

"That's why I'm here, isn't it?"

My answer was evasive, but seemed to satisfy.

Trying not to cry, I confessed timidly. "Mr. Hightower, I don't know what I'm supposed to do."

"You're a fifth grader, right?"

I nodded.

"First time?"

I nodded again.

"Well, if it's any consolation," said the principal, standing and taking the paddle from the wall, "Timmy's teacher says you have nice penmanship. Very mature."

He shook his head sadly. "Your mother says you told Timmy that such cheating is okay. I can't punish him for listening to his big sister. But I can certainly punish the big sister."

Mr. Hightower showed me how to put my elbows on the desk, spread my feet apart, and stick my bottom out.

WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!

Mr. Hightower passed me a Kleenex, so I could wipe my eyes and blow my nose. Indeed, he seemed a kind man executing a cruel duty.

"Don't get many girls," he remarked. "But the ones I do paddle always cry. Don't feel bad."

I felt bad anyway, for lots of reasons.

He escorted me to his door.

In the outer office, Mom chatted.

"When I found out my first baby was a girl, I cried," Mom told the secretary, as if I didn't exist. "I had several miscarriages before Timmy. Now he's the joy of my life."

Noticing me, Mom said, "See? Wasn't so bad, was it?"

I didn't bother to answer. Mom wasn't listening anyway.

Taking me by the hand, she said, "I better walk you to class, young lady!"

"I can go by myself. I don't need you."

"Nonsense!"

Outside, Mom said, "That's all behind us, Grace. But it must remain our little secret. Promise?"

"I promise. But you got to stop doing Timmy's homework for him, Mom."

"From now on," Mom nodded, "I'll write it on a separate sheet and make him copy it in his own hand. I never expected his teacher to notice."

Mom squeezed my hand. "A paddling is just part of growing up. We both learned something, right Grace?"

I didn't bother to reply. Mom wasn't listening anyway.