Lifetime supply of Red Hots, anyone?

*DISCLAIMER*
Brianna told this story on her page in the way SHE recalls it...although my story is quite different, this is what I recall from that day.
And as is evident throughout the story, we may as well just go ahead and say that MY version is the RIGHT version. =)


So, I admit, I have a bit of a bossy streak. It was never more evident than when I was a child and endeavored to rule with an iron hand in our worlds of make believe, ones where I was often worshipped by every man in the land (only the handsome ones, of course) and magic hung in the air.
Growing up in a house surrounded by woods was definitely the envy of all the kids in school. Rather, it would have been if we actually WENT to school. We were homeschooled, although in my kid mind that meant, "get all your schoolwork done by lunch so you can PLAY!" My notebooks were always filled with new ideas I was determined to make my sister play with me, even if that meant I had to tie her up and duct tape her mouth shut so I could make her say what I wanted. My mom was sure I would give her a complex, but I just saw it as valuable lessons in listening and obeying.

One particular sweltering afternoon in August when I was around the ripe old age of ten, I ran ecstatically to meet our cousin, Brianna, at the edge of the woods separating my grandparents' house from my own . As often belied her visits, we had already planned exactly what we were going to pretend in the playhouse that day. Can I just say thanks to my Daddy for building that AWESOME playhouse. I always swore that even when I grew so tall I would have to bend down to fit through the door I would never stop playing in it. Ah, the ambitions of a kid.
As Bree and I gathered papers and pens to play the pre-appointed "schoolhouse," Matti sat and waited patiently for us to start. As was often her outfit of choice, Matti had donned her "cowboy" clothes, her shirttails tucked into her chaps, the little leather thingie that I still don't know the name or function of tightened around the collar of her pristinely buttoned shirt. Her white hat was half-cocked on her head as she absent-mindedly clicked her boots against the wooden floor of the playhouse.
When Matti and I were kids we were obsessed with candy. Well, actually, I still am. Anyway, we specifically had a Red Hots fix for a few months and participated in many a contest against each other, seeing who could hold the most Red Hots in her mouth at once, our eyes watering and our noses streaming as the cinnamon fumes infiltrated our sinuses.
Damn, we were dumb sometimes.
This day Matti was clenching her own bag of Red Hots, claiming she had bought them at the Dollar Store with HER dollar and she refused to share. That may very well be the reason for the following incident.

"Matti, you're the boy. Your name is Tommy," I instructed. She willingly complied as she was the most tomboyish of the three of us girls. Actually, she ALWAYS played the boy. Hmm...maybe I DID give her a complex.
Brianna was the play the schoolteacher and I was to be the prettiest girl in class, of course. And what was my part in the scenario? I was trying to get the attention of "Tommy" so I could have a boyfriend and look cool. Not much has changed. Imagine that.
We ad libbed conversations uneventfully for a while until I decided we were being too boring and needed some "dramatic intervention." Again, imagine that.
"I know!" I gasped. "I'm writing a love note to Tommy (ever the agressor, I was) and you catch him with it! I'm your favorite student so you won't get mad at me, but you have to pretend to slap Matti as punishment."

Now here I must pause and defend myself. In the years that followed it was never decided whether or not I said PRETEND to slap her or if Brianna lost all hearing and logical common sense for three point two seconds. I maintain my innocence that Bree had damaged her hearing with her "rub her nose flip her hand through her bangs" technique that she was fond of employing as a child. Thank goodness she grew out of that. At least, I think she did.

SLAP. Brianna's hand became a blur as it made sharp contact with "Tommy's" cheek.
I stood there in stunned silence as the Red Hots slipped from Matti's fingers in slow motion, the cinnamon candies skittering across the floor (which we later picked up and ate). Tears welled in her eyes and I squealed breathlessly "BRIANNA! You weren't supposed to ACTUALLY slap her!!" If I had known any cuss words back then I'm sure I would have used them.
All I could think of was that fact that ALL of our parents and aunts and uncles sat mere yards away on the driveway enjoying lemonade and the cool shade as they talked about how perfect and well behaved all their children were.
"Matti WAIT!" I yell-whispered as she bolted out the back door of the playhouse. She ran to the woods holding her hand to her cheek, crying loudly.
Always a fast thinker (well, when I was trying to save my butt anyway) I quickly hatched a plan.
"Bree, you go and try to talk to Matti, apologize, tell her we will play whatever she wants to play for the rest of the day and I will buy her a life supply of Red Hots if she just promises that she WON'T TELL!"
"What are you going to do?" Bree asked.

Well, my plan worked in my head. I had watched countless movies where the kid inevitably breaks his mom's favorite vase but it always seemed that if he whistled non-chalantly while strolling by with his hands clasped behind his back she suspected nothing until he could flee the scene and thereby avoid punishment.
Perfect, right?
Wrong.
I'm pretty sure it wasn't long after this incident that I learned my mother has an almost MAGICAL ability to sense when something is fishy. I took two steps onto the driveway, whistling the theme song to Barney (which, I was CLEARLY too old to have been watching that show) and casting furtive glances into the woods behind me to see if Brianna had succeeded in bribing Matti. I wished I could have been both places at once. No one knew how to land a deal like I did.
"Meredith, what's going on?" The tone of my mother's voice caused my head to whip around, my lips floundering to form a carefree yet believeable reply, while my brain went haywire - how does she KNOW?!?!
In the same moment, Matti screamed and my mother locked gazes with me, cocking her left eyebrow in a way that always made my knees buckle and my heart beat faster.
*GULP*
"Umm, nothing?"
Right then Matti burst out of the woods, tears on her cheeks, Brianna close on her heels, pleading, promising something about buying her a pony and a barn and mucking out the stalls for life if only Matti wouldn't tell!
We kids stopped short as all the adults stood up, their lemonade left to the flies as they turned steely glances on us, determined to get to the bottom of the situation.

I begged innocence, pleading for mercy, insisting Brianna was just too stupid to know what I said!
According to Matti, she snuck and watched Brianna's mother use a honeysuckle switch to swat the backs of Bree's legs. Apparently Brianna ran in a circle as her mom tried to catch her.
In the end, I only got one stinging smack of the leather belt across my backside. I think my mom just thought it was funny. I remember seeing her lips twitch in contained laughter as she left the room where I sat pretending to cry after my punishment.
Oh, I milked it, just in case she changed her mind. I don't even think it really hurt. It was more the anticipation of it that so frightened me.

If my memory serves me well that was one of my MANY beatings I survived that summer. Ah well, even if I never learned my lesson, it definitely makes for good entertainment