Jaden's Chance

by Ashlynn Ally

  There’s about half a dozen smartass things I can think to say as a response to this, but I bite my tongue. Instead, I concentrate on shifting back and forth on the stool, relieving some of the pressure on first one half of my butt, and then the other. I can hear Justin clinking dishware around, but since I’m facing the wall, I can’t very well see what he’s making. Whatever it is, it smells disgusting, and I gear myself up for another meal where I mostly push food around my plate and try to pick out the only good bits.

  “Okay, corner time is over,” Justin announces about five or ten minutes later. “If you’re ready to be a good girl now, you can get off the stool now and pull your panties up.”

  Even though getting off the stool was all I wanted to do a second ago, after the way he spoke to me like I was some kind of five-year-old, now I kind of don’t want to because it would mean facing him.

  “Well? Are you ready?” Justin prompts, and I guess even I’m not stupid enough to endure any more pain all for the sake of pride.

  “Yeah,” I finally answer, still slightly cross about this whole thing. “I’m ready.”

  “Well, come on then. Come and eat.”

  Still wincing, I lift myself up slowly off the stool, and then gingerly snap my panties back up around my waist and smooth my dress down. I notice Justin carrying a bowl into the living room, which is odd because we usually eat in the kitchen. Since I don’t see any more food around, I decide it’s safe to follow him.

  “What, are we going to share that?” I say, upon walking into the living room and realizing he’s sitting on the couch with only one bowl of food. He holds it cradled in his hands, a spoon sticking out.

  “No, this is for you. I already ate dinner at the usual time. Come sit.”

  I do so, cautiously, still acutely aware that just a few minutes earlier, he’d been tearing into my ass with his steel-like hand despite my tearful protests for him to stop.

  “What is it?” I ask, trying to peer into the bowl.

  “It’s oatmeal,” he says, stirring it a bit and then pulling out a glob at the end of the spoon. “Open up.”

  I pretty much recoil in disgust. Oatmeal. He had tried to get me to eat that a few mornings ago. I had starved until dinner.

  “Yuck, you know I don’t like that!” I exclaim, practically in horror. “I want something else.”

  “If you wanted something else, you should have been here for dinnertime. But it’s late now and I’m not cooking anything else and I’m not letting you go to bed after barely eating anything all day.”

  It’s true. I am hungry, especially after the weed and the long walk home. In fact, I am so hungry, eating the oatmeal might even be somewhat tolerable. But I’m not about to let Justin know that.

  “I can make peanut butter and jelly?” I suggest with a hopeful cock of my eyebrow.

  Justin narrows his face at me. “Nice try, but you’re eating this. Now open your mouth, and take a bite.”

  He holds out the spoon again, closer to my face. I turn away, annoyed. “You don’t have to feed me like I’m a stupid baby or something.”

  “I do have to feed you, because I’m not about to sit here and watch you play with your food like I have for the past week. Now you’re going to open your mouth, and I’m going to feed you every last bite of this, or maybe you want another spanking and to go sit your butt down on that stool in the kitchen again?”

  My face crumples into a fierce scowl as I stare at him—a standoff. “That’s not fair,” I insist. After all, I’m getting pretty tired of him using physical force to bend me to his will every time I feel like having my own way.

  “It’s perfectly fair. I made you this food because you need to eat, and instead of doing that you’re acting like a spoiled little child, and that’s not gonna fly with me. So you can either eat this right now like I’m telling you to do, or I can set it aside, pull you over my knee, and give you another good, hard spanking on top of the one I already gave you, and then you can eat your oatmeal cold. Either way, you’re eating it, so what’ll it be—now, or after another butt warming?”

  I huff, mimicking the face the bull makes right before he’s going to charge. “Those choices suck,” I hiss, and then, realizing it’s no use to try to win this, decide to offer an ultimatum of my own. “Give me the bowl, and I’ll eat it myself.”

  He evaluates me for a few moments. I pretend like I’m not looking at him as hard as I am, surreptitiously hiding my gaze behind my eyelashes. I wonder just how much of this battle he’s willing to fight.

  “Fine,” he relents, causing a small ripple of giddiness to rise up inside me, even though his eyes are still tense as he hands me the bowl. “But if I see you making faces, or stirring that oatmeal around for too long without eating it, I will take that bowl away and spoon feed you myself, you got it?”

  “I got it,” I quip, sweetly sarcastic, giving him the same tone of face as I take the bowl and grab the spoon. Trying not to gag, I take a small, careful first bite, and realize once I get past the texture, the taste isn’t so horrible. Pretty bland, actually, and not something I could ever imagine anyone being excited about eating, but not horrible. I take another little bite, and another, Justin watching me the whole time. I give him a knowing little smirk. “There?” I ask, taking yet another bite. “You satisfied?”

  “You watch that tone with me, young lady…” he warns, his voice low and ominous.

  My only response is to take another bite, give him a steely gaze before peeking back down into my bowl. There’s still a lot left, and I’m really not sure if I can get it all down. “I’m sorry,” I offer, with the thought process that if I want to get out of finishing this huge portion, I better try to get on his good side now.

  “Keep eating,” he instructs. Then, after a few moments of me spooning oatmeal into my mouth, he asks, nearly conversationally, “So, where was this party?”

  At first, I’m so surprised I can barely answer, even though I know it’s a pretty simple question. I’m just not used to Justin talking to me like I’m an actual fellow adult instead of a naughty child in need of correction.

  “Swarthmore Avenue.” The name of the street pops quickly into my memory and out of my mouth as I take another bite. “Big gray house on a hill. Lots of fancy, ornamental bushes out front, steps wrapping around the driveway.”

  There’s a pause and I see him thinking about it. “Yeah, I know the place. It’s a big party house. Parents are always off in their cabin in Lake Tahoe. I’ve had to go pick my brother up there a couple of times.”

  “What, after he got himself shit-faced and couldn’t get his drunk ass up off the front lawn?” I ask. The conversation becoming nearly friendly, causing me to momentarily forget who I’m talking to.

  Justin shoots me a glare. “Watch your language,” he says quickly. “But yes, pretty much. Ever since our mom died he’s…”

  His words fade off, so I finish for him. “Had a problem with the bottle?” I use my tongue to lick the oatmeal off the back of my spoon. “Why don’t you take him over your knee and spank him?” I go on, almost daringly. “If you think it works so well.”

  “It’s working pretty well with you, I’d say. You’ve gone to school all week. You’re eating that oatmeal right now.”

  I give him the resentful side-eye look, but I don’t argue. After all, he’s right. “So why don’t you try it with baby brother then?”

  “Alex isn’t ready for that,” Justin admits. “He has to want the help…”

  “Oh, and you think I want it?” I ask animatedly, giving him the gangster head shake along with a playful gleam of my eyes.

  “Last I checked, you were still here. Sitting on my couch eating oatmeal, which you hate by the way, when you could be walking out that door anytime you choose.”

  I look down into my bowl because I can’t look at him. I guess it’s true. I guess I really do want the help. I guess maybe even a tiny piece of me appreciates him for it, which is definitely hard to admit to
while I’m choking down this horrible oatmeal with my ass still on fire, even if it is just to myself.

  “Do I really have to eat all of this?” I ask, after the silence begins to get to be too much for me. “I’m full. I can’t eat this much at one time.”

  He leans over to look inside the bowl, then gives a slight eye roll and an exasperated shake of his head. “You barely even touched it.”

  I stick out my lip, give him the puppy-dog eyes. “But I don’t like it,” I say in a small, whining voice, hoping once again to win his sympathy. Not that I have a very good track record with that whole department.

  “That’s very cute,” he says, shaking his head, like he’s sure he knows better to admit to this along with whatever else it is he’s about to say. “Three more bites, and then you can go up to bed.”

  It’s pretty much the most I’ve ever seen him give in to me, and I know I’d be an idiot not to take him up on it. So even though I despise each and every speck of the slimy, lumpy stuff that goes down my throat, they’re still the three most victorious bites of food I’ve ever taken in my life.

  Later, as I’m heading upstairs, something causes me to look back over my shoulder at Justin. I’m sure he’s going to be heading into the kitchen by now with my half-empty bowl, but instead I find him lingering in the doorway. I’m surprised to see him looking at me too. When he catches my eye though, he turns and hurries on his way, so fast I’m not quite even sure if I imagined the whole thing or if it actually really happened.

  Chapter Twelve

  The next day, something glorious happens—I’m actually able to sleep in till almost noon. When I get up, the entire top floor is empty, so I spend the next hour or so on Justin’s laptop in his bedroom before finally sauntering downstairs. My stomach is growling. After that foul excuse for dinner last night, I’m starving.

  Of course, there’s slim pickings in the kitchen as usual. Man, what I wouldn’t give for a Honey Bun from one of the nearest convenience stores. That and a big slushy ice coffee full of sugar. Here, I was lucky to get a hold of a teabag that actually had caffeine in it.

  “Well, good morning, sunshine.” I’m in the middle of sifting through the contents of the freezer when Justin walks in, half my head buried in bags of frozen fruits, veggies, and grass-raised meats. “Or should I say afternoon?”

  “Man, aren’t there any of those waffles left?” I ask grumpily. I’m already craving the caffeine fix I usually get at school by sneaking into the teacher’s lounge and helping myself to their leftover breakfast fare.

  “You mean the whole grain ones you said tasted like a pile of feces someone had vomited on?” He scoots me out of the way and shuts the freezer door in my face. “Nope, I think we’re fresh out.”

  “I’m not a science teacher, I would never say the word feces,” I correct him. Giving up on finding anything decent to eat, I hoist myself up on the counter and sit there looking at him. “Can we get something at the mall when you take me to go get a phone?”

  He chuckles softly. “It’s amazing how well you remember some things, while so quickly forgetting others.”

  “So are we still going?” I prompt him, swinging my legs against the cabinets below me. “You said you’d get me a phone. Y’know, so I won’t get lost and lose track of time anymore.”

  “We can go as soon as you’re ready,” he says. “But I want you to remember you’re grounded and this isn’t a trip for fun.”

  “Oh, yeah,” I say suddenly, my face dropping. “Grounded. I forgot about that.” I recall with a sinking feeling how I’d already used his computer upstairs, even though I’m supposed to stay off it this weekend. Oh, well. I’d just have to find another few minutes alone with the thing to delete the history.

  Justin laughs again. “Well, there you go proving my earlier point. Now get off the counter. We have several chairs here to choose from, if you hadn’t noticed.”

  “Yeah, I noticed,” I say casually, sliding off the counter and onto the floor. “But sometimes I like to go for a little originality.”

  I flounce past him out of the room and start up the stairs. I’m hoping to sneak into his room now and get on the computer, but he follows me. Damn. “You going to be ready to go soon? Tell me how much time you’re going to need.”

  I shrug, annoyed that he’s up here right now when I wanted to get that history deleted. “I don’t know. Like fifteen.”

  “Okay, I’ll get ready too then.”

  We each go into our separate rooms, where I pull on some of my clothes. My real clothes, not those frumpy things Justin bought me last week. When I’m ready, I peek out my door to see if Justin has vacated his bedroom yet, but his door is still closed. I guess I’d have to go wait for him downstairs, and figure out a time to get on his computer later.

  After driving for about five minutes, I’m sure we’ve already passed about ten fast food places. The smell of oil from the fryers is making my mouth salivate. “I’m hungry,” I declare, when I can’t take the torture anymore of seeing some of my favorite things to eat disappear in the rearview window. “Can we stop somewhere? I’ll pay you back.”

  Justin sighs. “Why didn’t you eat something back at the house? There’s plenty of oatmeal, you know.”

  “Oh, come on,” I whine out. “It’s not nice to starve people.”

  He shakes his head like I’m being ridiculous. “If you were starving, you would have eaten something ten minutes ago when you were in the middle of a kitchen full of food.”

  “Is that what you call that stuff?”

  “You’d like it if you gave it a chance.”

  “Yeah, well, we’re not at your house now, and I need something to eat. I mean, just look how skinny I am!” I hold up one of my scrawny arms and pinch it, all skin. “So can we please stop?”

  “Fine,” Justin reluctantly pushes out the word in a big long breath. “What do you want?”

  “Donuts,” I say, not even needing to think about it.

  “No,” he says, not missing a beat. Apparently he doesn’t need time to think about his response either.

  “What!” I burst out, outraged that he would ask me what I want and then deny me. “Why not donuts? That’s what I want!”

  “You’re not having fried sugar for breakfast,” he says shortly. “Pick something else.”

  “Why should I pick something else?” I argue. “You asked me where I wanted to stop and I told you. Come on, just lend me like two bucks. Please? We can stop at Krispy Kreme, there’s probably one around here someplace.”

  “There isn’t, and this topic isn’t open for discussion anyway, Jaden. You’re picking somewhere else, or you’re waiting until we get back home to eat.”

  I fold my arms across my lap, my expression dark, as if I feel a storm cloud coming over me. Not only am I craving my caffeine fix, but this was also right around the time I bummed my first cigarette from Maritza. The fact that I might have to wait until Monday for another one is making me even more mad.

  “I want freaking donuts,” I state in a low, unwavering voice. “And I really don’t like not getting what I want.”

  “Jaden, if you think you’re going to throw a little tantrum right now, and I’m going to pull into a drive-through and order you donuts, you are sorely, sorely mistaken.” Justin keeps his own voice even and calm, concentrating on the road the whole time.

  “Actually, I’m pretty sure you’re the one who’s mistaken if you think I’m just going to sit in this car and let you boss me around for the rest of my life.” My voice is rising now, irrational, my nerves shot from the lack of nicotine and caffeine—and now I’m being denied sugar to boot.

  “I think that might be a bit of an exaggeration, Jaden,” Justin says, his voice the complete opposite of mine, reasonable and composed. “Vetoing one of your meal choices is hardly dictating your whole life.”

  “Do you think I fucking really care if it’s an exaggeration or not?” I’m pretty much shouting now—I can’t help it. The way
he stays so cool and collected is making me even madder than I had been about the whole donut thing. “Why don’t you just pull the car over and let me the hell out of here so I can find my own motherfucking donuts.”

  Justin is shaking his head at me again. It seems he’s been doing that a lot lately, but he still doesn’t break his composure. “Oh, if I pull over this car, you can bet it’s not going to be to let you get out and find donuts.”

  “If you don’t pull over, I will jump from this moving vehicle into oncoming traffic, I swear to fucking God,” I scream, my hand already on the door handle as a warning.

  “Well, this escalated quickly,” Justin quips ironically, more to himself than to me. “And you know, you might want to take your seatbelt off if you’re planning on jumping from the car.”

  Click-click. I do it, and that gets his attention. Reaching over, he grabs the locking mechanism of my seatbelt and holds it, and therefore me, into place on my seat. Simultaneously, he works on swerving out of traffic and pulling over on the side of the road.

  “What on earth do you think you’re doing, young lady?” Finally, I’ve broken the spell and he’s yelling at me, his composure shot. “Do you know how dangerous that is?”

  I stare at him directly in the face, the withdrawals making me brave. “I want freaking donuts.”

  He’s lumbering over me now, still holding me tightly into place with the seatbelt. “Are you sure what you really want isn’t a spanking?” he demands, widening his eyes at me. “Because I will take you straight home and give you one if that’s what’s going on here. You’re already getting another mouth soaping for that little tirade of cursing you unleashed on me a couple of minutes ago. So what do you say, a spanking to go along with it? Huh? Is that what you want?”

  I don’t answer him, just sit there seething as the rest of the world goes about their day. Traffic races by us and pedestrians rush down the sidewalk like they’re all running late for the bus.