Some Luck by Jane Smiley Page A

I don’t know what I am going to do with you, Frankie!” She slapped him down again, and held him by the ear as they walked down the stairs. At the bottom, Papa was looking up at them, and he said, “Where was he?”
    “Oh, he was in our room.”
    “Where?”
    “Goodness, Walter, he was just—”
    “Was he under the bed?”
    “Well—”
    “You can’t protect him, Rosanna. He knows not to go under the bed, and you told him ten minutes ago—”
    “I’ll just put a sweater on over—”
    Then Papa said, “Frank, son, come here. Stand right here.” Papa pointed to the floor just in front of his feet. Mama gave him a little push, and Frank went and stood there.
    “Were you under the bed?”
    Frank shook his head.
    “I’m going to ask you again. Were you under the bed?”
    Frank said, “No.” It seemed like the only thing to say.
    “Frank, you have been disobedient and you have now told me a fib. What do I have to do now?”
    Frank stared at him.
    “Come on, tell me what I have to do.”
    Frank shook his head again.
    Papa said, “I have to whip you.”
    Mama said, “We should leave; maybe after—”
    “Can’t wait. You punish a horse or a dog five minutes after thefact, and they don’t know what you are punishing them for. Boy’s the same.”
    Rosanna stepped back.
    Walter took off his belt. Sometimes he used a spoon or a brush, because normally he was wearing overalls, but now he was dressed for going out, and he had a belt. He gripped the belt by the buckle, and Frank had to stand there facing the window while Papa took down Frank’s pants and opened his union suit. Then Papa gripped Frank’s shoulder and the blows began, right across his backside. Frank could count—he got to six before he was too confused by pain to count any further. But he didn’t fall down. Partly, Papa didn’t let him fall down; and partly, Frank didn’t want to fall down. Each time he stumbled forward, Papa stood him up and gave him another one. The tears poured down his cheeks, but he didn’t wipe them on his shirt or his arm. He had to lick them away, though, because they were dripping over his lips. Eventually, it was over, the pain and the fuss. He and Papa stood there quietly, and Papa did up his union suit and pulled up his pants. Then he turned him around so that he was standing right in front of Walter’s knees, and Walter was leaning forward, his eyes alight.
    “Frankie,” he said, “why did I whip you?”
    “I went under the bed.”
    “Why else?”
    “Fib.”
    “Say, ‘I fibbed.’ ”
    Frank hesitated, then said, “I fibbed,” although it had seemed as though the fib just came out of him.
    Walter said, “These things don’t just happen, Frankie. They are punishments you incur with disobedience and deception. You are a smart boy and a brave boy, and your mother and I love you very much, but I’ve never seen anyone more determined to have things your own way.” Papa stood up and slid his belt back through the loops and buckled it. Mama appeared with Joey, who looked sleepy.
    Frank felt like he was all on fire underneath his pants, but he stood up straight and let the tears dry on his cheeks until Mama took his hand and walked him into the kitchen. She set Joey in the high chair, then she dipped a cloth into the pail of clean water and wiped Frank’s face and dried it. She said, “I don’t understand you, Frankie. I justdon’t. You look like an angel, so how does the devil get into you like that?”
    Frank said nothing. A few minutes later, they all went out to the buggy and got in, Mama carrying a pie and a loaf of bread. She said, “Well, we should be there by supper, anyway.”
    Papa shook the reins at Jake and Elsa and said, “Should be.”
    “But they’ll ask why we’re late.”
    Papa shrugged. Frank sat back against the cushion.

1924

    T HE NEW BABY WAS a girl, and she was no trouble at all. Just where her uncommon agreeability came from, her grandmothers could not