Having put Audrey in jeopardy, you will agree that Tutor deserves a degree of punishment he will not soon forget. Insubordination, use of unapproved athletic equipment, potential injury to the only hope the world has at this point, and other failings as well. So, there Tutor is, hands manacled above his head, on the whipping post in his own Dungeon, rope around his waist, feet shackled, white shirt split open. Doing the honors, with the scourge, his rival, Master Jack, a Dungeon Master to the Stars in his own right, but commanding higher rates, as a Yale Grad and Corporate Fiduciary. You might feel some compassion for Tutor, but don't. Endorphin high, he gets in the zone. "Jack is a big pussy; I scourge myself harder for my own sins." And in truth, Jack is making a big show of it. Tutor's back is all bloody, the skin in strips, but this is not Jack's best effort. He is holding back as a Professional Courtesy, and because he knows that turnabout is fair play, and when the turns change, it will be Jack on the whipping post, and Tutor wielding the bloody scourge.
Later, to help her process the moral - unapproved activity only ends badly - Audrey is allowed to visit Tutor in his cell, where he lies on his stomach, on the pallet of his cot, his back red like raw hamburger. "Are you ok?, Tutor?, she asks. I am so sorry. It was my fault." "Not your fault, kid, I knew it would come to this. I am the Grownup, right?" "A Silly Grownup!" "Thank you, Audrey, I am a very Silly Grownup and always will be, as long as I get to teach kid like you. My back doesn't hurt so much. My head does, though." Audrey can see a big goose egg on the back of his skull where he slammed into the wall. It is too late for ice, and he didn't have any anyway, so it swelled up, and looks even worse than it hurts. Audrey reaches out with a finger tip, but does not touch it, because it looks so sore. "It is ok, kid. I will heal. It is not like when your rip your shirt, or something. My head heals itself. Sometimes I bang it on stone walls just for practice. In case I ever have to in real life." Audrey laughs.
"That was the funnest fun I ever had! I really did fly, Tutor, I could see my flag on the pole, so close I could touch it!" "You will always remember." "Always! I will."
Audrey bends to kiss Tutor, a big smack, on the center of his forehead. She rises to do her prima ballerina pose (Momma took her to the ballet in Paris), hands with fingertips touching above head making a graceful arc, twirl on point, in faded pink Keds, with the white rubber tips. Then the red haired ballerina in blue jeans exits in long leaps, as if she could fly. And now she knows she truly can.