Not Having Fun

019

Dad sits Chris and I down at the table. We look at one another awkwardly. He spreads sheets of paper and the good markers and coloured pencils all over the table. "You boys are going to make a comic book together,"

"What?! Ugh," Chris groans.

"Come on. You're both talented and you could make something really cool if you work together," Dad gets up to leave. He turns back to us at my the door. "I better not hear fighting,"

He leaves Chris and I alone. After a few seconds of awkward silence, he grabs the paper and starts working on it. "Hurry up," he glares at me. "Let's get this over with so I can get away from you,"

"I'm trying," I pout. "I want to make something good,"

"God, this is why I think you're immature,"

"Whatever. Give me the black pen," he reaches over to grab it," 

"No! I'm drawing. You're going to ruin it! The pen is too thick to write words with,"

"Just give me it, Max!" He tries to grab it from me.

"No!" I grip it tight. It's my pen and he's not getting it!

"Just give me it, stupid little shut!"

"You're a shit!"

"MAX!" Dad bellows from the door. He storms over to the table. "I heard fighting. Can I not leave you boys alone for two minutes?! Do I have to sit with you boys all the time just to keep you away from each other?!"

"No Dad," Chris mutters and lets me go. "He can have the pen,"

"You're nearly twelve and you're fighting with a five year old over a pen? If you can't be mature, you won't be turning twelve. You can forget your birthday,"

"What?! No Dad!" He screams, panicked. "I have my birthday party and everything planned!"

"We can un-plan that if you give me a reason to. Your brother is five. You're supposed to be teaching him," 

  "It's not my fault Max is a bloody spastic," Chris reaches over and slaps me in the face. But it doesn't hurt! It really doesn't...

"That's it! I've had enough of both of you!"  Dad grabs us both by the wrist and starts dragging us downstairs. 

"I didn't do anything!" I squeal and struggle.

"I heard you swearing," Dad shouts. He puts me in the corner.

"A stripe from the belt is what you need," he threatens Chris.

"N-no!"

I start crying. Am I going to get the belt? It sounds so scary. Chris told me all about it.

Dad's belt makes a jingle sound. Behind me, Chris panics and cries. I can hear him screaming and stamping his feet on the floor. It's like he's having a tantrum! Normally that'd be funny. But I'm so scared! I can feel myself crying.

"You haven't been belted in a while," I hear Dad pull down his sweatpants. He leaves his undies up. I can't focus on the sounds. It's too scary! The couch moves beside me as Dad bends Chris over it.

"I'm sorry Dad. Argh, get off of me!"

SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK

Chris starts sobbing loudly.

"We're halfway there. Come on. You hit a little kid Chris, that's very serious!"

SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK

The hits stop and Chris wails at the top of his lungs. I shudder in the corner as Dad spins me around.