A Proscriptive Relationship Page 3

  “So as I was saying, this is my first year as a teacher, so I don’t know much about teaching a class full of high school students,” Mr. Heywood started, standing right in front of me, his hand resting on the edge of my desk. “And obviously you guys don’t know me, so let’s get to know each other a bit today.”

  My friend Sarah threw her hand up quickly. “Can we ask you questions?”

  Mr. Heywood looked surprised, but shrugged. “If you want.”

  “How old are you?” she asked quickly, causing him to smile.

  “Twenty-two,” he told her.

  I stared at him in surprise. The other youngest teacher here was twenty-six. But this guy was only twenty-two? Did that mean that he got a job fresh out of college? How lucky was that?

  “I got this job just as I finished up college this year,” he continued with a laugh, as if he was reading my thoughts. “It was a lucky break.”

  “Are you single?” a guy from the back asked, making the class erupt into laughter.

  Mr. Heywood blanked for a minute, but quickly rearranged his features into a grin. “In fact I am,” he told the class. “However, I’m not interested in men.” He winked and the class erupted into laughter again. I laughed with them, sparing a glance at him. Our gazes met and he froze for a minute, staring at me with the same expression as earlier on. I blinked at him, and he quickly looked away.

  “What’s your first name?” another person asked.

  “Chris, but none of you can call me that.”

  “Favorite color?”

  “Black and blue.”

  I smiled slightly. “Like a bruise.”

  The class laughed and I looked up again, seeing Mr. Heywood staring at me with another startled expression. I narrowed my eyes at him in confusion. What was so surprising about my statement? Finally he seemed to realize he was staring and he quickly cleared his throat.

  “Someone said the exact same thing to me a while back,” he told me, scratching the back of his head. “You surprised me.”

  “Sorry?” I apologized, still confused.

  He shook his head. “Um, any other questions?”

  “Are you lactose intolerant?”

  The class continued to have a question and answer session with Mr. Heywood. It was pretty entertaining. He had a good sense of humor, and seemed like an easy person to get along with. After the questions ran out he handed out course expectations and a list of materials we would need for the year, and then left us to chat amongst ourselves. A flock of students went up to his desk and gathered around it, talking to him in an excited manner. Lance came and sat down to my right. I turned to face him and stretched out my legs, sighing deeply.

  “Good job coming to class late,” he said, shaking his head. “Now you’re stuck with the front and center seat.”

  I shrugged. “Whatever. I don’t really mind.”

  Lance raised an eyebrow and lowered his voice. “It can’t be because you too have fallen for Mr. Heywood’s good looks, can it?”

  I snorted, feeling my face heat up the slightest bit. Hopefully Lance wouldn’t notice. “Of course not.”

  He let out a breathy chuckle. “Just checking. He seems to be very popular.”

  I nodded, looking at the crowd of students at the desk. Mr. Heywood seemed to be enjoying talking to all of them. He had to be only four or five years older than most of them. I quickly counted on my fingers to see how much older than he was than me. Only five years, and in about two months, only four. I was right the other day thinking he wasn’t that much older than me.

  My shoulders sagged. Why did my mystery man have to be a teacher? That ruined any fantasies I had about meeting him and falling in love. Lance raised an eyebrow curiously at my change of expression. I shook my head at him, trying not to scowl. It wasn’t fair.

  Soon the period ended, and the class began filing out of the classroom. I quickly zipped open my backpack, stuffing my newly acquired papers into it as fast as I could.

  “I’m going ahead,” Lance told me, standing up. “I don’t want to be late.”

  “Wait!” I demanded, shoving the course expectation further into my bag. “Lance!”

  Lance ignored me and kept walking as I fought with the stupid piece of paper. When it was finally in, I quickly zipped up my bag. In a rush, I stood up and flung myself after Lance, only to trip over my desk leg. I landed flat on my face with a weird-sounding smack.

  “Are you okay?” Mr. Heywood asked, sounding slightly amused and slightly concerned.

  Red-faced, I pushed myself off the ground and nodded to him stiffly before trudging towards the exit. If that wasn’t the definition of embarrassing, I didn’t know what was. I heard him chuckle to himself as I exited, my face still burning.

  “Don’t be late tomorrow, Holly.”

  LESSON THREE

  “I told you he was hot.”

  I looked up from my desk to see Casey standing over me, a smug smile on her face. Right, we’d taken Spanish together again this year. Trying to be as casual as possible, I shrugged. “He’s alright . . .”

  “Oh, come on!”

  “Alright. He’s really handsome,” I admitted, a grin escaping onto my mouth. “But listen. He’s my mystery man.”

  Casey’s mouth just about dropped to the floor. “No way.”

  I nodded my head somberly. “That’s him.”

  “So I’m taking it that transfer student is actually new biology teacher?”

  “Exactly.”

  Casey chuckled. “Well, that’s an unfortunate turn of events.”

  I dropped my head onto my desk. “I know. Not to mention I totally showed up to class late and fell on my face as I was leaving.”

  “In her rush to come after me,” a new voice interjected.

  Casey and I looked up to see Lance grinning down at us. “Yeah, I don’t believe that,” Casey responded, grinning. “You’re usually the one left behind.”

  Lance shot her a dirty look before taking his seat in front of me. Just in time too, because the Spanish teacher entered the room. “Guess what everyone?” Ms. Elliot started, smiling broadly at all of us. “Tenemos una prueba!”

  The whole class groaned, myself included. This was the first class in which we had gotten a first-day-of-school quiz. “We would have a quiz the first day of Spanish class,” he muttered, turning around to frown at me.

  “Date la vuelta, Lance!” Ms. Elliot commanded, and Lance begrudgingly turned around in his seat to face the front of the room.

  The quiz was passed out and I felt relieved when I realized it was only one double-sided page. It was mostly old vocabulary and verbs to conjugate. I finished quickly and flipped the paper over. Spanish had always been an easy subject for me. To occupy myself, I drummed the tips of my fingers on the desktop.

  The hectic first day was almost over. It had actually been a great last first day of school—and not just because there was the new biology teacher. I couldn’t decide if Mr. Heywood was a good or bad thing. He seemed like an awesome teacher, but he was also my mystery man. It was depressing knowing I couldn’t be romantically involved with him. Like Casey had mentioned earlier, he was indeed young, funny, and did have a very attractive voice. Usually you only read about these kinds of teachers in cheesy romance novels . . .

  I sighed and placed my head down onto my desk and shut my eyes. If only the day would just end already. I couldn’t wait to go home and take a nap . . . But first I had to go back to the grocery store—otherwise it was cardboard for dinner. I really hated grocery shopping.

  “Is everyone done?”

  After coming to the decision that yes, everyone was finished, she collected the quizzes. The rest of class was spent on reviewing the course outline and expectations. I drifted off more than once and when the bell rang, it nearly scared me off my seat. I regained my composure and stood up, slinging my backpack over my shoulder.

  “Blah,” Casey started as we walked out of the classroom together. “Today lasted foreve
r. I just want to go home and sleep.”

  Lance and I muttered our agreements and exited the school. The trip home went by quickly, and luckily it was nice out. I said goodbye to my friends and climbed up the porch steps to my house, trying the handle. It was locked. I sighed and pulled out my extra key, unlocking the door and entering the house. My mom must have left for work.

  I dropped my backpack off in the hall and kicked off my shoes, heading towards the kitchen. There were a few twenty dollar bills on the counter and a note attached to them saying “Food Money.” I pocketed the money and yawned. First I wanted a snack, and then I’d go to the grocery store. With a bag of Lays in hand, I trudged to my bedroom, flopping onto the bed. It was time to be the definition of lazy.

  I didn’t realize I’d fallen asleep until I awoke with a start when an unnecessarily loud commercial came on the television. Sitting up, I looked around in a daze. After a second I realized I was in my room. The clock on my nightstand read six o’clock.

  “Shoot,” I muttered, hopping off the bed. I still had to do grocery shopping!

  I looked out my window and frowned. The sky was beginning to change now, and soon it would be dark. I clicked my tongue and hurried down the stairs, grabbing my keys of the table as I went by. The last time I had gone to the grocery store this late I had run into Mr. Heywood about to be assaulted in an alleyway. I didn’t want a repeat of that.

  I made it to the grocery store just as the last rays of sunlight faded. Sighing, I grabbed a basket from the front of the store. After I got the essentials I was out of here. There was no use in wasting time when it was getting colder by the second.

  By the time I was done, it was completely dark outside. Just like the other night.

  Butterflies appeared in my stomach as I started home, feeling paranoid. What if those thugs were out again tonight? The thought made me shiver in fear. Maybe they wouldn’t remember my face. I slowed down as I approached the alley. Holding my breath tightly I stopped just outside the mouth, listening carefully. When no noises came from within it, I let out a sigh of relief.

  “Damn it!”

  A shriek of terror escaped my lips and I dropped my groceries, nearly having a heart attack. I twirled around in a panic, bringing up my fists, ready to fight if I had to. Nothing entered my vision. Slowly, I relaxed again, lowering my arms. Maybe I was being too paranoid and imagining things.

  “Excuse me—”

  “No!” I shouted, moving forwards as a hand landed on my shoulder. “I didn’t mean to hit you with my groceries! It was an accident! I swear!”

  “Holly?”

  I froze, immediately recognizing the voice of the man speaking to me. Slowly, I turned around, coming face to face with Mr. Heywood. He raised an eyebrow, holding up his hands defensively. I flushed, but hopefully he couldn’t see it because of the dark.

  “W-what are you doing here?”

  “What are you doing here? It’s dangerous for you to be alone at night,” he said, sounding a little irritated.

  I frowned at him, nodding my head towards my groceries. “Grocery shopping.”

  “Again? Don’t you have a car or something?”

  “My mom has it.”

  He pursed his lips at me. “Oh.”

  “What are you doing out here alone? Trying to get in another fight?” I questioned, bending over to retrieve my groceries.

  Mr. Heywood quickly leaned over and snatched them before I could. “Actually, my car ran out of gas. I’m trying to figure out what to do, seeing as how the nearest gas station is a few miles away.”

  I hesitated for a moment, wondering why he wasn’t handing my groceries over to me. “Um, I think my mom keeps a few gallons in the shed for our lawn mower. If you want you can—”

  “Sounds good,” Mr. Heywood cut me off, brushing past me. “Your house is this way, right?”

  “Um, yeah.”

  “Stick close to me. Who knows who’s out here . . .”

  My heartbeat sped up a little and I did as my teacher advised, looking around warily. He led the way back to my house, not having to ask for directions once. He walked all the way up to my front door, and then moved out of the way, waiting expectantly. Watching him suspiciously, I dug my key out of my pocket, and opened the door. He entered first, going in the direction of my kitchen. I followed behind him quickly.

  “How’d you know where my kitchen is?” I asked him, switching on the light.

  Light flooded the room in question as Mr. Heywood set the groceries down on the counter. He glanced at me, shrugging. “I noticed it the other day.”

  “Oh,” I responded lamely. An awkward silence passed. “Do you, um, want that gas now?”

  Mr. Heywood gave me a mysterious smile. “You aren’t going to offer me coffee?”

  I blinked at him in surprise. “You want it?”

  “I’d like some, if you’d offer.”

  For a moment I hesitated, trying to decide what the best course of action was. He was my teacher. I probably shouldn’t have him in my house. But then again, he wasn’t just any ordinary teacher. He was super cute and I didn’t exactly want him to leave. It had been pure luck I’d run into him—why waste it by sending him on his way so quickly?

  “Sure,” I finally responded, smiling up at him.

  “Great,” he responded with a smile of his own.

  Five minutes later, I entered my living room where my teacher was sitting, a cup of coffee in hand. He watched me intently as I placed the steaming mug in front of him, making sure it was on a coaster. My mom would kill me if I damaged the wood on her table. Mr. Heywood gave me a polite smile as he picked up the hot mug, putting it to his lips and taking a sip. He made a face, putting the cup back down on the table. “Sugar?” he requested in a sweet voice.

  “Um, sure, I’ll go get it,” I told him, treading back into the kitchen.

  It took me a few moments to locate the small porcelain jar that we kept the sugar in. After grabbing a spoon and some half-and-half just in case he wanted it, I returned to the living room. He watched me as I placed the condiments in front of him. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” I awkwardly stood in front of him for a moment before taking a seat across from him on the couch. He picked up the sugar and began to pile spoonful after spoonful into his cup. So much to the point where I doubted you could even taste the coffee.

  “Isn’t that a little unhealthy?” I asked as he raised the mug to his lips and took a sip.

  He shrugged. “Yes. But I like it better this way.”

  “Like a kid,” I commented, chewing on my bottom lip.

  He chuckled. “I suppose, yes.”

  It went silent again and I stared at the floor. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know what I could say. I barely knew the man, how could I think of small talk? Saying something like “how’s the weather?” seemed incredibly lame. I glanced up at him with a frown. He was staring at me with a pained expression. Confused, I furrowed my eyebrows. Why was he giving me that look? He abruptly looked away, a scowl appearing on his face. I dropped my eyes back to the floor quickly.

  Eventually the silence started getting to me, so I asked the question we both knew I was going to ask eventually. “So the other day . . . I didn’t get to ask, um did you . . . do you know those guys? Or were they just some hoodlums giving you a hard time?”

  Mr. Heywood nodded his head. “Yeah, I know them . . .” He hesitated for a moment before continuing. “They were from the gang I used to be in.”

  I nodded as he spoke. And then what he said actually processed in my mind. My jaw dropped. “Wait, what? You were in a gang?”

  Mr. Heywood nodded, now grinning at me. “Yep. Get me more coffee.”

  I stared at him, my mouth still hanging open. Did he actually just order me to go get him more coffee when he was a guest in my house? What happened to the nice, suave, and handsome biology teacher?

  “Get to it,” he said, shooing me with hands. “Please,” he added
an afterthought, as if that made him seem more polite.

  Still in shock, I stood up and went to the kitchen to make him another cup of coffee. So, not only was our new biology teacher an ex-delinquent, but he either had a split personality, or he was a total fake at school. There was also the possibility that I was just reading into this wrong . . . No, that seemed almost impossible. He was definitely ordering me around. But maybe he meant it in a friendly way? I almost laughed at the thought. Yeah, right.

  With his fresh cup of coffee I went back into the living room. Mr. Heywood was pawing through a bowl of candy on the table, frowning deeply at it. He sure was making himself at home at my house. I set the new cup of coffee down in front of him and he pulled it closer to him, pouring in heaps of sugar once again.

  I sunk back down onto the couch across from him. “So you knew you were stronger then them?”

  He barked out a laugh. “Way stronger.”

  “You sound confident. What if they did manage to get you?”

  “Impossible. No one can beat me. But it was funny when you hit that guy in the head with a bag of cans.”

  I frowned at Mr. Heywood, who was now downing his coffee. Was this guy serious? An ex-gangster? How had he managed to become a teacher then? And did he still fight for fun?

  “More coffee,” he requested after a few moments of silence.

  “Are you kidding me?” I responded, gaping at him. How in the world was he drinking it so fast? “More than two cups in one sitting? That’s really unhealthy.”

  “Who are you? My mother?”

  “No, but—”

  “I want more coffee,” he interrupted me, holding out the mug. “Please,” he said again, this time throwing in a pleasing expression.

  And, damn him, it was so cute I couldn’t say no. I took the mug from him and hurried to the kitchen. “This is your last cup,” I told him as I gave him the mug back.

  “I get to decide that,” he told me, wagging his finger at me.

  I stared at him. “But it’s my house.”