A Proscriptive Relationship

by Jordan Lynde

  Mr. Heywood looked at me for a split second, his face in a tight line. The thug with the bat raised it again while Mr. Heywood was still focused on me.

  “Mr. Heywood!” I screamed again, half in panic and half in annoyance at how he kept looking away from the enemy. He couldn’t be that stupid.

  The pressure on my head increased and a groan escaped my lips. My vision went black for a moment, but before I could panic it returned. Mr. Heywood ripped his arms out of the two gangsters’ grasps, thrusting his elbow into the bald man. The thug dropped the bat and raised his hands to his face, swearing loudly. Mr. Heywood turned and swung his right fist at his head, striking him down.

  My head throbbed as I watched Mr. Heywood turn to the other two gangsters, who were in fighting stances. Mr. Heywood swung towards the one on the right, who avoided it with a block and then the one on the left swung at Mr. Heywood, who dodged it, spinning, and sending his fist into the right one’s face. I watched, slightly impressed, slightly awed, and slightly afraid as Mr. Heywood proceeded to pummel the two gangsters.

  The man pinning me to the ground clicked his tongue and loosened his grasp on me, starting to push himself onto his feet. I turned the moment to my advantage. With my head still slightly spinning, I rolled out from under him, and swung my leg out hitting him where the sun didn’t shine. He groaned and fell back to the ground. I kicked him in the side hard.

  “That’s for punching a girl!” I told him, and turned to Mr. Heywood.

  Only one gangster was still standing. I watched incredulously as the gangster picked up the bat the unconscious one had dropped. Was he really going to bring a weapon into the fight again when Mr. Heywood didn’t have one?

  “A bat won’t help you,” Mr. Heywood stated, rolling his eyes. “Hell, even if you had a gun, it still wouldn’t help you.”

  The gangster swung at Mr. Heywood. I winced as I heard it collide with his arm. When I opened my eyes, I expected to see him holding his arm in pain, but to my surprise he was smirking at the gangster.

  “What did I tell you?”

  Suddenly the bat was yanked from the other gangster and before I knew it, he was on the ground. Mr. Heywood cracked his knuckles and brushed off his hands before stretching.

  He turned towards me, and his smug face turned to shock.

  Did he forget I was here? He started sprinting towards me, his hands in fists again. I looked curiously at him. Why was he charging at me? He got closer and brought up his fist. I let out a startled yelp, putting up my hands in defense.

  To my surprise, his swinging fist missed. Or that’s what I thought at first. I heard it smashing against something, and looked over my shoulder to see the gangster I had kicked earlier falling to the ground behind me. I turned back to Mr. Heywood, my face white. He glared at me, putting his hand firmly on my shoulder.

  “Ow!” I cried, pulling his arm away. “That hurts!”

  “What are you doing here?” he demanded, his voice seething with anger.

  “I saw you with those two suspicious-looking men so I followed you!” I explained quickly, still pulling at his arm. “Mr. Heywood, that really hurts!”

  He let go of my shoulder, shaking his head in disbelief. “I can’t believe you.”

  “What did I do?” I demanded angrily. “If I wasn’t here, you could have been killed!”

  “I’m fine on my own!” he snapped. “But look at you.” He raised a hand to my face and touched it gently.

  I gave him a confused look and when he pulled his hand away, there was blood on it. Surprised, I raised my own hand to my cheek, and sure enough something warm and sticky was on it. Nausea washed over me, and I staggered forward, suddenly dizzy. Mr. Heywood quickly steadied me, putting his hands on my shoulder again—this time more gently.

  “Are you okay?” he asked in a worried voice. “Did that bastard do anything else to you?”

  I shook my head. “No, I’m just not good with blood.”

  “Why did you follow us?” Mr. Heywood asked still supporting me. “Holly, you don’t follow quote, unquote, suspicious-looking men.”

  “I thought something bad was going to happen to you,” I responded in a small voice, dropping my gaze.

  “That doesn’t give you reason to follow gangsters into the woods! Who knows what would have happened if I hadn’t noticed you when I did?”

  “You would have been beaten by a baseball bat!”

  “You could have been kidnapped!” Mr. Heywood cried, irritation dripping in his tone. “Or worse, if you understand what I mean.”

  I knew what he meant immediately and I bit my lip. Yeah, I knew it wasn’t a smart idea. But I didn’t want to let him just go alone. He could have been killed! “I didn’t know you were serious about being an ex-gangster,” I admitted, pushing Mr. Heywood’s arms off me. “I thought you were joking, so I would have never guessed something like this would happen.”

  “Something like this happens all the time, Holly,” he responded, shaking his head. “It’s because I left so suddenly.”

  “Left?”

  “The gang,” he told me.

  I frowned slightly. “Why did you leave?”

  “I’ll explain it later,” Mr. Heywood responded, looking around warily. “First let’s get out of here before these guys wake up.”

  I nodded in agreement and Mr. Heywood started leading me back through the woods. I stepped over the body of the gangster who was trying to sneak attack me and made sure to tread on his face. Mr. Heywood chuckled slightly.

  “You’re so immature.”

  I ignored his comment and followed him as we made our way out of the woods. I kept looking behind us, afraid someone would pop out. Mr. Heywood noticed after a few minutes. “Don’t worry,” he started, suddenly looking solemn. “If someone comes, I’ll protect you.” He turned back around, his back suddenly tensed.

  I stared after him curiously for a few minutes, frowning the tiniest bit. My heart thudded in my chest—and it wasn’t due to lack of oxygen. Why did his words make my heart beat so fast?

  LESSON SEVEN

  When I finally saw the lights of the fair I raised my eyebrows, slightly impressed. I wouldn’t have ever been able to find my way out of the forest. Mr. Heywood seemed to know these woods like the back of his hand. He even told me where there were dips in the ground so I wouldn’t trip. While the lights distracted me, my foot got tangled in a root and I plummeted to the ground face first. My already pounding head smashed against the hard ground, causing my vision to go black for a few seconds. Surprised, I tried blinking a few times, trying to regain my vision.

  “Are you okay?” a slightly amused voice asked from above me.

  “I can’t see!” I cried, scrambling to push myself to my feet.

  A strong pair of hands suddenly wrapped around my waist and I was pulled to my feet before I could protest. Shakily, I reached out to find something to support me. One of the hands on my waist disappeared and something warm enveloped my outstretched hand.

  “Stand still,” Mr. Heywood ordered in a soothing voice. “Your vision will come back in a second.”

  I did as he commanded, trying to slow my racing heartbeat. With my eyes shut, I concentrated on my breathing for a few minutes, and when I opened them, I could see again. Dizziness swept over me and I staggered a little. The hand on my waist quickly became an arm wrapped around it.

  My cheeks blazed from the gesture. “Let me go,” I said, trying to escape from his hold.

  “No,” Mr. Heywood ordered. “You’ll end up killing yourself.”

  “Let go!” I reiterated.

  I was very aware of his arm wrapped around my waist. Too aware. My body was growing hotter by the second. I avoided looking at his face as I continued to struggle to break out of his grasp. I shouldn’t be blushing because he had an arm around my waist—he was just my teacher. Albeit a young and very handsome teacher. It might have been wrong, and yet . . . I liked his touch.

  “If you don’t stop strug
gling, I’ll have no choice but to carry you,” he warned, holding onto me tighter.

  I ground my teeth together, and tried again to yank myself free once more. I couldn’t flat out tell him what he was doing to me. That would be incredibly awkward and uncomfortable. But I wasn’t used to guys touching me, so maybe that was it. It wasn’t just because it was Mr. Heywood who was the one with his arm wrapped around me.

  I tried once more to pull myself away, but only ended up tripping over my own feet. Mr. Heywood sighed and put his other hand on my waist again. “You asked for it.”

  Suddenly I was hoisted up in the air and over his shoulder. I opened my mouth in shock, but nothing came out. He adjusted me slightly and placed a hand just above my bottom. Blood rushed to my face and I tried to get away again.

  “Don’t move or you’ll fall, and I’m not sure how much more damage you can take to your head without dying.”

  I stopped moving. I didn’t really want to take that chance. Mr. Heywood started walking again, and I bounced with his each stride. He didn’t even seem affected by taking on an extra hundred and ten pounds.

  “Aren’t I heavy?” I asked in a quiet, embarrassed voice.

  He snorted. “Yes, you are.”

  I kicked my feet, hoping to land a strike on his face. He chuckled and readjusted me on his shoulder. “I’m joking.”

  “It wasn’t funny,” I responded, bringing my hand down to slap him. Right before my hit landed, I stopped my hand, realizing I was just about so smack his butt. A small breath of relief left my lips. How awkward would that have been? Stretching my arm lower, I began to pound my fist in the lowest part of his leg that I could reach. It didn’t even affect him. He just chuckled again. Scowling, I hit him harder and repeatedly, which only made him laugh more.

  “Two can play at that,” he let me know, amusement in his tone.

  I felt a slap to my butt. For a second I was shocked speechless, my face growing warm. I opened my mouth in outrage and but couldn’t say anything coherent. “Why did you smack my butt?” I finally demanded, still blushing furiously.

  “Easiest place to reach.”

  I struggled against him now, trying my best to be let go. I didn’t care if I fell on my face at this point as long as I got away from this perverted teacher. He started chuckling, again, and placed his free hand on my waist, hoisting me off his shoulder, and onto the ground. I took a step away from him and glared at him. “You didn’t have to slap my butt!”

  Mr. Heywood rolled his eyes. “What? Should I have waited and smacked your head?”

  “No! You shouldn’t hit me!”

  “You were hitting me,” he responded in a mockingly whiny voice.

  “But I didn’t hit your butt!”

  “You were thinking it.”

  My face grew even hotter, if that was possible. Mr. Heywood smirked. I shook my head vehemently at him. “I wasn’t!”

  He chuckled. “Yeah, okay. I can tell when you’re lying. You’re really bad at it.”

  I stared at the ground in embarrassment. How could he read me so easily? My eyes were starting to burn and I blinked rapidly to stop my eyes from watering. Why did he always embarrass me? It was seriously unfair.

  Mr. Heywood sighed. “You really have zero experience with guys, huh?”

  I glared at him. “So what? I’m sorry I can’t help it if guys don’t like me? I’m sorry I’m not used to guys touching me. I’m sorry I’m not popular and pretty, Mr. Heywood. If you want to go talk to popular and pretty girls, actually let them into your classroom at school instead of hiding from them! I bet they would do all kinds of stuff with you.”

  I breathed heavily from my sudden outburst. Mr. Heywood stared at me, almost in awe. I looked away when I felt tears welling up again. Sometimes I wished my tear ducts weren’t triggered by my embarrassment and anger. I tried to discreetly wipe away the few tears that were escaping. It didn’t really work.

  What was my problem? There was no reason for me to get all worked up. And I knew I had taken my outburst too far. I didn’t know why I even mentioned crap about the girls at school. Mr. Heywood probably thought I was immature now. I grit my teeth in frustration.

  A gentle hand was at my cheek and it turned my head to the left slightly. Mr. Heywood used his other hand to wipe away a stray tear. I attempted to look away, but he held my head fast.

  “I’m sorry,” he apologized, sounding very sincere.

  My mind went blank for a second. Mr. Heywood was apologizing to me? Shouldn’t it be the other way around? I was the one who had blown up at him. I opened my mouth to say something but he shook his head.

  “I’m not done,” he told me, so I shut my mouth. “I really didn’t mean anything offensive by what I said. I keep forgetting you’re Holly Evers, my student, which is my fault. But I can’t help but to tease you when you have such cute reactions.”

  I would’ve have blushed if my face wasn’t already as red as a tomato. What did he mean by how he kept forgetting I was his student? Did that mean he . . .? I shook my head quickly. He definitely did not mean what I was thinking. I was getting way too ahead of myself.

  Mr. Heywood let out a quiet chuckle, and I raised an eyebrow at him. “What?”

  He shook his head, smirking. “Where in the world did you get the idea that I wanted to do ‘all kinds of things’ with pretty and popular girls?”

  I swallowed nervously and pursed my lips, my face still in Mr. Heywood’s firm grasp. “Well . . . I just figured since you’re young and single you might, you know, want to have . . . have some fun?”

  Mr. Heywood snorted and started laughing so hard he let go of my face and doubled over. I stood awkwardly, watching as he began to gasp for breath from laughing so hard. “You know that’s illegal, right?” he asked when he was finally finished.

  “Yeah,” I responded. “But that hasn’t stopped other people . . . and since you’re a gangster and all, I thought it wouldn’t matter.”

  “Ex-gangster,” he reminded me with a frown. “And I wouldn’t have an affair with a student. I’m a teacher, Holly. That would be extremely wrong and I would lose my job if I were ever caught. I might even—” He suddenly cut himself off, a surprised expression on his face. “I might even go to jail . . .”

  For some reason, my chest ached. I shrugged it off though. It wasn’t like I was planning to be in a relationship with this man. He was a perverted, spiteful, annoying teacher . . . who also happened to be an ex-gangster. The consequences of a relationship like that were too severe too. It wasn’t worth it.

  “But I have to say,” he mused, putting on a smug smile once again. “I don’t usually go for the pretty and popular girls.”

  “What kind of girls do you go for?” I blurted out without thinking.

  Mr. Heywood opened his mouth to respond, but shut it quickly. For a split second I thought there was an expression of pain on his face, but before I could be sure, it was gone. He glanced at me and smirked. “Well, I go for the kind that don’t have a lot of experience. They are the cutest, you know? Now, shall we go?”

  He walked by me, his shoulder just barely brushing by mine. I stared after him for a moment, his last words echoing in my mind. What did he mean by that? Was he insinuating something? I shook my head quickly. It meant nothing. He was just teasing me like usual.

  I hurried to catch up with him, my dizziness completely gone now. We were behind the rides now. I made sure to step over all the cables, being extra cautious not to trip again. When I caught up to him he looked at me from the corner of his eye, an amused smile playing on his lips. “You know you look like hell, right?”

  I gave him a wry smile. “Thanks.”

  He chuckled. “Don’t worry. I have a comb in my bag.”

  I raised my eyebrows slightly. Even I didn’t carry around a comb in my bag. “You have a comb?”

  “I need to look good in front of the ladies, right?”

  I rolled my eyes and attempted to push past him but he stopped me,
grabbing the back of my shirt. After releasing me, he dug into bag for a few seconds and pulled out the comb. With a finger he gestured for me to move closer to him. I did so, and held out my hand for the comb. He smirked, pulling the comb out of my reach. “I’m doing your hair for you.”

  “No you’re not,” I responded quickly. “No way.” I attempted to back away but his hand shot out and grabbed my shoulder, pulling me closer again. I sighed. It wasn’t even worth bothering to even try and escape his grasp.

  “Keep your head still,” he ordered.

  “Yes, sir.”

  His hand ran through my hair, getting out the largest tangles. I stood restlessly, letting him have his way. I had to admit, he could get out snarls without it hurting me the slightest bit. I was surprised at how easily he moved the comb through my long hair.

  When he was finished, I ran a hand over my head. Not a single knot.

  “You wouldn’t have been able to get out the ones in the back of your hair if you did it,” he told me, putting the comb away.

  “That’s true.”

  “Now,” Mr. Heywood said with a serious face, “do you want me to drive you home? I think you’ve had enough fun for one night.”

  I faked a laugh. “Yeah, fun.”

  Mr. Heywood grinned. “Well at least I had fun. And I’m ready to go home too, so it’s no trouble.”

  I frowned slightly. I did want to go home. But I really wanted to go on the Farris wheel. I looked at Mr. Heywood pleadingly.

  “You want something?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

  “I want to go on the Ferris wheel before we leave,” I told him, averting my gaze. “Do you . . . um, want to come with me?”

  I didn’t have to look at him to know he was smirking.

  “Of course. I can take the time on it to explain a few things to you, since now you’ll be caught up in some of my problems.”

  I looked up at him again with a questioning look. What problems?

  He gave a half shrug. “I said I’ll explain on the Ferris wheel.”