A Proscriptive Relationship Page 4

  “And?”

  “Do you want to leave?” I threatened.

  “What if the thugs are out there?” he asked with mock fear. “They might’ve come back.”

  “I don’t care!”

  Mr. Heywood smirked and cracked his knuckles. “Should I teach you a lesson about kicking me out?”

  I stumbled backwards away from him, falling over my front table. My hands shot out in panic as I felt my feet slip out from under me. I landed on my back with a dull thud and ended up staring at the ceiling in surprise.

  He stood above me and chuckled. “I’m not really going to beat you up.”

  I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. This was unbelievable. He seemed like such a nice guy at school! But he was actually such a demanding devil! What happened to my suave mystery man? How would the people in school take it when I told them? “They won’t believe it,” I muttered to myself.

  I heard Mr. Heywood stand up and he appeared over me momentarily. He brought down his hand and grabbed the front of my shirt, pulling me to my feet. I scrambled up myself to save myself from being choked. He smiled innocently at me. “I hope when you say ‘they,’ you don’t mean the students and or the faculty at school.”

  “Oh yes I do,” I told him. “When they find out you’re actually like this . . .”

  “But they aren’t going to.”

  “What? Of course they are if I tell them.”

  “But you won’t . . . right?” Mr. Heywood smiled at me, but I could sense the danger behind his words. “You wouldn’t want anything to happen to you, would you?”

  Was he threatening me? I gawked at him. He definitely was. He still had that sweet tone to his voice, but his eyes were screaming, “tell anyone, and you’re dead.”

  I didn’t want to die.

  “Um, okay. I won’t tell anyone,” I muttered, looking to the side.

  Stupid, blackmailing devil of a teacher.

  “Where’s your mom?” he asked randomly, looking around the room, as if he expected her to pop out.

  “She works late,” I muttered, crossing my arms.

  “All the time?”

  I narrowed my eyes at him. “Why do you want to know?”

  He held up his hands defensively. “Just curious.”

  “Right.”

  “I’m leaving now,” he declared.

  I blinked, thrown off by his sudden decision. “Um—”

  “Maybe next time I’ll stop by for dinner.”

  “You can’t,” I told him, slightly surprised.

  “Why not?”

  “You’re my teacher and I’m your student. It’d be . . . weird.”

  Mr. Heywood laughed. “No it wouldn’t. It’s not like we are doing anything bad. And besides . . .”

  “What?”

  “You’re the only one who knows, and will ever know, about my ‘other’ personality,” he told me with another wink before heading for the door.

  “Wait, don’t you want me to get the gas for you?” I called after him.

  He shook his head. “It’s cold outside, you should stay in here. I can figure it out.”

  I frowned slightly. “After you open the shed door it will be the shelf directly to the right.”

  “Thanks,” he responded, turning to give me a quick smile. “Goodbye, Holly Evers.”

  LESSON FOUR

  The next day, I relayed everything that had happened to Casey. “No way,” she gasped, staring at me with wide eyes. “He was at your house? With you? Alone?”

  “Shh!” I hushed her, looking around the cafeteria warily for anyone who might have heard. “You can’t tell anybody. And nothing happened anyway.”

  “I won’t!” Casey responded, making an X over her heart. “Cross my heart and hope to die.”

  I sighed and kicked the trash can we were standing next to. It became a habit for Casey and me to have private conversations near the trash can, so everyone knew when we were there not to come throw their trash away. Casey grinned to herself, glancing at Mr. Heywood, who had just entered the lunchroom.

  “There’s your dinner guest,” Casey commented, nudging me in the shoulder. “Go talk to him.”

  “And be beaten to death? I think not,” I responded, rolling my eyes. “I don’t trust that guy. He’s got a split personality.”

  Casey laughed, shaking her head at me. “I don’t know what you are talking about. From what I know of him, that guy is about as mean as a puppy.”

  I laughed. “Well, believe what you want. You weren’t the one that was basically forced to make him a dozen cups of coffee.”

  She snorted. “I would have done it willingly anyways.”

  Just as I was rolling my eyes at her, Willis walked into my line of sight. “Oh, what do you know? Here comes your boyfriend. I’m going to leave you two to talk.”

  Casey blew a raspberry at me. “Okay. But tell me if anything happens between you and Mr. Heywood!”

  “There’s nothing going to happen between us!” I hissed at her, giving her one last warning look before turning my back on her.

  I looked around for Mr. Heywood quickly; I didn’t want to run into him when getting in line for lunch. Luckily, it seemed he had left the cafeteria already. I walked to the à la carte line, opting to choose a single item rather than pay for the full lunch, and let out a sigh.

  “Why the sigh?”

  I jumped and twisted around to see Mr. Heywood standing behind me. He smiled pleasantly at me, looking innocent. I eyed him suspiciously.

  “Well?”

  “Just thinking,” I responded slowly, “about you.”

  “So you are falling for my good looks already. I thought you were different from most of the girls here.”

  “No,” I snapped, frowning at him. “About your split personality.”

  “Shh!”

  “Why?”

  Mr. Heywood lowered his voice, giving me an urgent look. “If anyone finds out how I used to be, I’ll be in trouble, and I really don’t need that right now. So shut up about it. Please,” he added, trying to cover up for his rudeness.

  I blinked at him. Was he begging? “Fine,” I said reluctantly.

  When we made it to the front of the line I noticed there was chicken soup on the soup list. My favorite. Mr. Heywood cut in front of me and I frowned, but he was a teacher, so I had to let him cut. He ordered chicken soup, just like I was about to.

  “What would you like dear?” the cafeteria lady asked when Mr. Heywood had gotten his soup.

  “Chicken soup,” I responded.

  “Sorry, we just ran out.”

  I heard Mr. Heywood snort from in front of me. I stared at the lunch lady in disbelief. It was just my luck. “I guess a cheeseburger then.”

  The lunch lady smiled and placed a cheeseburger on my tray. I made my way to the cash register and paid for it, pocketing my change. Mr. Heywood was paying at the cashier across from me, paying for the soup I should have gotten. Puffing my cheeks resentfully, I turned to go back to my table, but a hand on my shoulder stopped me.

  “What?” I asked, slightly annoyed when I realized it was Mr. Heywood.

  “Here,” he said, placing the soup on my tray. “You can have it.”

  I looked at him in surprise. “Um, thanks. Why?”

  “A thank-you for yesterday,” he responded before walking off with a wave.

  I frowned after him for a moment. I really couldn’t tell if this guy was nice or not. He seemed nice, but a little pushy. Or maybe he was faking it. I pursed my lips. He was so confusing. I walked back over to my table where Danielle was talking loudly and gesticulating wildly. “Are you going to the fair, Holly?” she asked, turning to me immediately as I sat down.

  “There’s a fair?”

  “Yeah, at the fairground downtown,” she replied. “It’s one of those traveling fairs.”

  “Huh.”

  “So are you going to go?” she repeated.

  I shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t think I have any
plans. Who else is going?”

  “Me!” Lance interjected. “And Casey and Willis.”

  “And me,” Sadie added. “And Danielle, right?”

  Danielle nodded her head enthusiastically. “Of course! So, basically everyone.”

  “Well I guess I am too, then,” I said with a laugh. “Are we meeting up somewhere? What time?”

  “Seven,” Lance informed me, stealing my milk.

  “Hey!” I cried, reaching over to take it back. “I’m not done with that!”

  Lance smirked and stood up. “That’s too bad. Because lunch is over.”

  As soon as he finished talking, sure enough, the bell rang. I quickly stood up, swiping the milk back from Lance and grabbing my tray. I cursed myself as I began pushing my way through the throng of people leaving.

  If I was late twice in a row, now that I knew the ‘other’ side of Mr. Heywood, what would he do? I managed to avoid spilling my tray and gave it to the cafeteria lady. I smiled to myself. There was no way I could be late today. I would just skip stopping at my locker. We probably wouldn’t need anything, anyway.

  To be safe, I still jogged towards the class. The people in the hall were slowly disappearing, but there were still a few so I knew I was safe. I turned the corner and stopped quickly, nearly colliding with a group of teachers walking down the hall together. I scowled at them. They walked slowly and were talking and laughing so loudly they didn’t hear my “excuse me” and “move” no matter how many times I repeated them.

  Now I was going to be late for sure. But my luck changed and they went into a classroom to our left. I started sprinting once they were out of my way. I had maybe ten seconds, and the science hall was about fifteen yards away. I could make it.

  I turned the corner to the hall and ran into something hard, letting out a surprised shriek and falling to the ground. I landed on my butt and winced, groaning.

  “I’m so sorry!” the person I bumped into apologized.

  The bell rang and I hung my head in defeat. “It doesn’t matter. It’s already too late,” I sighed.

  A hand appeared in front of me and I grabbed it. I was pulled to my feet and I nodded my head to the person I ran into in thanks. When I looked up I realized it was a girl named Kat in the grade below me. I muttered an apology and sulked towards the classroom.

  I entered and all eyes were suddenly on me. Mr. Heywood included. He smirked for a split second, but he soon replaced it was a frown. “This is the second day in a row that you’re late, Ms. Evers,” he said.

  As if it wasn’t obvious.

  “I know,” I responded dejectedly. “Sorry.”

  Mr. Heywood smiled politely. “I excused you yesterday, but may I talk to you after class today?”

  I stared at him. Me? Alone with him? The ex–gang member? He’d probably beat me up or something for being late. Even though it was only twice. In the beginning of the school year. Which made it totally unfair. “Um . . .”

  “Is there a problem?”

  “No,” I responded, my shoulders sagging.

  “Please have a seat then,” he said, gesturing me forwards with his hand. “We haven’t begun the lesson yet, so you’re okay still.”

  I slunk to my seat and slipped in, sighing deeply. He had been nice so far today, so maybe I was only going to get a gentle scolding or something? I hoped so.

  Someone poked on my shoulder and I turned to see my friend Amy smirking at me. “You and him alone? You’re pretty lucky. I think I might just be late to class so I can stay after with him.”

  I snorted. “No, I wouldn’t do that.”

  “Why?”

  “This guy is—”

  I shut my mouth quickly when I felt a hand on my shoulder, pressing down very hard. I looked up to see Mr. Heywood smiling sweetly at me.

  “Would you two girls please not talk during class?”

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Heywood,” Amy responded, sounding flustered.

  “It’s quite alright, Amy,” he responded, smiling at her. “Just try to hold it until I’m done talking.”

  “Okay.”

  Mr. Heywood released my shoulder and I had to resist the urge to rub it. This guy was most definitely evil. And I had to stay after school with him.

  *

  I hesitated slightly before knocking on Mr. Heywood’s door after class. My heart was pounding a mile a minute as I waited for him to answer. What was going to happen? Was I going to be yelled at? Beaten up? Or maybe he was going to be nice about it and let me off the hook and he just couldn’t say so in class?

  I heard the click of a lock and the door opened a sliver. Mr. Heywood’s head popped out and he looked left and right quickly. I watched him curiously until suddenly he opened the door a little more and grabbed the front of my shirt, pulling me into the room in a flash. He quickly shut the door after me and locked it.

  “Why are you locking the door?” I demanded, getting nervous. “Mr. Heywood?”

  “Shh!” he shushed, a finger over his lips.

  “Shh? Why?”

  “Shh!”

  “Tell me why, and I will—”

  Suddenly his hand was over my mouth. He pulled me away from the door and pushed me against the wall, his eyes never leaving the door. I tried to pull his hand away from my mouth but his force was too strong. I could hear girls’ voices outside the door. They were giggling about something. I continued to try to pull Mr. Heywood’s hand away from my mouth because it was blocking my nose and mouth—basically, I couldn’t breathe.

  He glared at me and I went limp, trying to stay as silent as possible. I even held my breath, even though I couldn’t breathe in the first place. There was a knock at the door. Mr. Heywood was now holding his breath as well. After a moment there were a few more knocks.

  “Is he there?” I heard a girl ask. “Try the door.”

  There was a jiggle of the door handle, and then a more violent one.

  “It’s locked,” another girl responded. “Should we wait?”

  “No, I’ve got to catch the bus,” the other girl responded. “We can come back tomorrow.”

  “Okay.”

  There were the sounds of footsteps, and after a minute all was silent. Mr. Heywood sighed, uncovering my mouth. I gasped in the air, trying to fill my lungs.

  “Oh, sorry,” he apologized nonchalantly.

  “You don’t sound sorry,” I returned, still trying to catch my breath. “What was that all about?”

  “They probably wanted to talk with me.”

  “Why didn’t you let them in?”

  “It’s annoying,” he responded with a shrug.

  I smiled in annoyance at him. I really couldn’t figure this guy out. First he was nice, then he was a bastard, and then he was nice again, and then he was a bastard again. I sighed and ran a hand through my hair.

  “Come with me, Ms. Evers,” Mr. Heywood said suddenly, beckoning me with his hand. “I have a job for you.”

  I followed him curiously to the equipment room that was attached to the main classroom. I walked in to find a bunch of boxes piled high. I turned to him with a questioning look. “What am I supposed to do?”

  “I want you to unpack all of those boxes and put the items you have unpacked in their right places,” he explained, gesturing towards the pile of boxes. “Simple, right?”

  I gawked at him. “I can’t do that!”

  “Why not? You’ve been here longer than I have,” he said with a shrug. “I don’t know where everything goes.”

  “But there’s so much!”

  “You were late to class.”

  “I’d rather have a detention,” I told him.

  “Okay, you have a detention with me today. This is what you will be doing,” he responded, grinning.

  We had a scowling contest for a few minutes. Then I sighed. This was so unfair. Why did I have to do all this work just because I was late? Had I done something wrong? What was this devil-of-a-teacher’s problem? I moved towards the first box and
began trying to open it with my hands. I frowned when I couldn’t manage.

  “Here.”

  I turned just in time to see Mr. Heywood throw a box cutter at me. I jumped back, trying to get out of the way and almost tripped over a box. He chuckled and shook his head. I scowled up at him. “Don’t throw knives!”

  “Pay more attention.”

  “You could have stabbed me!”

  “But I didn’t. You’re kinda clumsy, huh?”

  I was about to retort, but I saved it. There was no way to win with him. I turned away from him and began cutting the duct tape with it. When I got a box open, I began taking the items out and putting them away in their correct places. Somehow I ended up telling Mr. Heywood where everything went. The fourth box was full of test tubes.

  “These go in the cabinets in the classroom because students use them,” I told him, heading towards the door that led to the main classroom. Before I made it out the door he seized my wrist, stopping me. I nearly dropped the test tubes.

  “What?”

  “Don’t go out there,” he ordered, pushing me back towards the boxes. “Just set those test tubes on the counter. You can do the stuff in the classroom later.”

  “Why not now?”

  “The girls here stick around for quite a while.”

  “It’s been an hour though,” I stated with a surprise. “There aren’t any more students in school. Clubs haven’t started.”

  “There are girls alright.”

  “It’s only your second day, how could you know that?”

  “They were here until six yesterday,” he told me seriously. “They wouldn’t stop talking and asking me personal questions. I swear if I hear ‘do you have a girlfriend?’ one more time . . .”

  “You don’t have a girlfriend,” I stated, placing the test tubes on the counter and going back to a new box.

  “How do you know?”

  “You said so in class yesterday,” I responded, cutting the tape with the knife. “Someone asked you.”

  “Oh, yeah,” he responded, leaning against the counter, where he had been for the past hour, watching me. “I thought you weren’t listening.”

  I shrugged. “I listened.”

  Suddenly a shrill ringing filled the room. My hand automatically went to my cell phone, but I was confused when it showed up with no incoming calls. Whose phone was it? I turned to see Mr. Heywood pulling out his phone.