Transfiguration

Chapter Three

Chapter Three

The first glimmers of dawn light were seeping through the tall shuttered windows of the orphanage when Sister Felice entered the dorm. The only sounds in the heavy silence were the boys’ measured breathing and scuffle of her slippers and the swish of her long skirt as she made her way between the precise rows of steel cots. When she reached Richie Washburn’s bed, she stopped and shook her head.

Richie and Allen his best friend had broken the one-boy-per-bed rule again. Beneath the woolen Army blanket, Sister Felice could see Allen’s outline spooned tightly into Richie’s backside. When would these two learn her rules were not meant to be broken? She was not a vindictive person, but she was the dorm authority and the rules were established long before she came to the orphanage. As Dorm Mistress, it was her responsibility to punish the boys who violated those rules.

Richie was going to get a strapping. Allen would get it, too. She would leather the two of them in her office adjoining the dorm. Hopefully, the racket and their cries would deter the other boys though she doubted it would make much difference.

She shook Allen. When his eyes fluttered open, she whispered in a low hiss, “Get back to your own bed, young man! Come to my office right after breakfast. I’ll see to you then.”

As Allen slipped from beneath the covers, he began to snuffle. “Sister,” he whispered. “I know, but Richie was freezing.”

“That’s no excuse. You know the rules.”

“I…I was just trying-”

“Don’t say another word. Just get back to your own bed before I take you over my knee!” While Allen scurried back to his bed, Sister Felice looked down at Richie. He was still feigning sleep. “Get out of that bed, Richie Washburn.”

When Richie opened his eyes, he tried to look sleepy and startled. He could see his expression wasn’t fooling her. “Sister,” he whispered. “I told Allen not to get in bed with me, but he wouldn’t listen.”

“Don’t make matters worse by trying to fib your way out of this. You and Allen are going to get a good whipping. Right after breakfast, report to my office.”

Sister Felice’s office smelled faintly of antiseptic and what he thought must be holy water. The plain green walls, black and white tiled flooring, age-darkened woodwork, and tall windows were more like a chapel than her living quarters. He could see the corner of her tautly made bed in the adjoining room. He’d never been able to make his bed like that.

Sister Felice was not much taller than Richie was. She had plump cheeks and the buxom warmth that Richie loved. Her bosom joggled as she rose from her desk and came around to Richie. She wore the Sisters of Holy Angels habit; pleated navy denim skirt that fell to her ankles, a pale blue blouse, and white bibbed apron. Her hair was covered in a bright yellow wrap. She made Richie wait until Allen arrived.

As soon as he did, she told the boys to pull down their khaki shorts and cotton underwear. She lectured them on the merits of minding her rules while she arranged them both over the lip of her desk. When she had positioned them with their arms extended and their heads resting on her desk, she took her strap from a drawer. She left the door to her office wide open. She positioned herself beside the boys. “Let this be a good lesson to both of you.”

The strap sang as it flew. As she expertly laid the strap to the two boys’ bare seats, she told them, “Keep up this sort of behavior and no self respecting mother is ever going to adopt either of you. The next time you break the rules you’re going to see Sister Theodosia, Disciplinary Mistress.” The threat sent a chill through Richie.

Sister continued to leather the boys unabated. Richie knew the other boys were listening right outside the door, but neither he nor Allen could squelch the shrieks that rose from their throats. When Sister finally coiled and put away her strap, she sent the boys out of her office to their first class of the day with a sign around their necks, “I Am a Bad Boy”.