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.