A Proscriptive Relationship

by Jordan Lynde

  Lance looked up at me and winced slightly. “Ow. I’m okay. What the hell is happening, Holly? Who the hell—”

  “Save the questions for later,” I ordered, my head throbbing just from talking. “I really don’t feel like explaining anything right now.”

  Lance looked behind me, his expression shocked, and I turned, expecting to see one of the thugs approaching.

  It was Mr. Heywood standing there, the sleeves of his black shirt pushed up to his elbows. He lowered the bat, coming up to me and placing a hand on my cheek.

  “Ow!” I cried, pulling back and raising my own hand to my cheek. I touched it gingerly. It throbbed angrily. I frowned. That would really hurt in the morning.

  Mr. Heywood looked behind me. “Are you okay, Lance?”

  “You,” Lance growled. “Do you have something to do with this? Why were those men after Holly? Where are the other three guys?”

  “I’ve already taken care of them,” Mr. Heywood responded simply. “As for your other questions, it’s up to Holly to let you know or not.”

  My head throbbed painfully and I staggered forwards. I clutched it, putting as much pressure on it as I could without hurting it too much. The pounding continued.

  “What’s wrong?” Lance asked worriedly.

  “Nothing,” I told him, my voice constricted with pain. “My head just really hurts.”

  “Lance, give me your car keys, I heard Mr. Heywood order.

  I heard Lance grumble, but after also the jingle of keys. Then suddenly I was swept off my feet. My surprise made the pain go away for a minute.

  “I can walk fine,” I muttered, keeping my head down to make sure no one could see my blush.

  “Shut up and let me carry you,” Mr. Heywood responded.

  I kept my mouth shut. It was awkward. Mr. Heywood was carrying me princess-style and Lance was right there.

  Lance wagged his eyebrows at me. That’s when I noticed the large gash on the top of his head, which was bleeding slightly. I gasped, my eyes widening slightly.

  “Lance! Your head!” I cried.

  Lance shrugged. “I’m sure it looks worse than it is. See?” He shook his head, but his face constricted in pain, giving away his facade. I frowned at him and he sighed.

  When we made it to the car and Mr. Heywood put me down in the backseat. He reached over and buckled my seat belt.

  “I can do that by myself,” I said.

  “I know,” Mr. Heywood responded.

  I swear I saw him smirking before he pulled himself out of the car and shut the door. Lance got into the passenger seat and Mr. Heywood got into the driver’s. He started the car and pulled out of the lot.

  “Where are we going?” I heard Lance ask.

  “My place,” Mr. Heywood responded, looking in his rearview mirror at me. “We have a lot to talk about.”

  When we entered Mr. Heywood’s apartment, he immediately sat Lance and me down in the living room and retrieved a first aid kit from the bathroom. “Ow,” I hissed, trying to pull away from his grasp as he dabbed some rubbing alcohol on my cuts. “Stop it! That hurts!”

  He sighed for the umpteenth time. “I need to disinfect those cuts, Holly.”

  “Yeah, stop being a baby,” Lance said, sitting on the couch across from me.

  I scowled. “You made more of a fuss then I did!”

  He blushed slightly and looked away from me in a huff and as he did, I saw the bandage wrapped around his head. I felt guilty immediately.

  Mr. Heywood forced my head back to the front. We immediately locked eyes. His gaze was so piercing I had to look away. He continued to clean my cuts gently with disinfectant and cotton balls.

  After what felt like forever to me, but in reality was actually only five minutes, he was done. He placed two Band-Aids on the biggest cuts and left the rest alone. “You know, if you weren’t so clumsy, you wouldn’t have any cuts,” he informed me, a smirk playing at his lips.

  “Shut up,” I muttered. “The only reason I fell was because Lance threw me off balance the first time. And the second time I was tackled football-style, so I don’t think this was my fault.”

  Mr. Heywood sighed. “I’m sorry. I knew something was going to happen. I should have stayed closer.”

  I shook my head. “I didn’t expect to have to leave the restaurant. We had parked right next to it.”

  “But Holly didn’t see the no-parking sign,” Lance added.

  I snatched the box of Band-Aids from Mr. Heywood’s hands and chucked them at Lance. They hit him in the bandaged area and I heard him suppress a groan of pain.

  “But still,” Mr. Heywood continued. “I got you into this mess. The least I could do is protect you from getting hurt and I couldn’t even do that. What’s worse is that I dragged another person into it. And it’s another teenager on top of that.”

  I placed my right hand on Mr. Heywood’s shoulder. He looked at me flatly.

  “I hate this. I hate how I was dragged into this. I hate how Lance was dragged into this. I hate being injured. I hate everything about gangs and wish I was never involved with them.”

  Mr. Heywood blinked, looking surprised. He opened his mouth to speak, but I cut him off.

  “But since it’s too late for all that, all I can do is do my best to stay safe, keep you safe, and now keep Lance safe. I don’t want to see anyone else get hurt.”

  Lance snorted. “Save the soap opera stuff.”

  I scowled, looking for something else to chuck. Mr. Heywood chuckled, patting my head.

  “You’re a good girl, Holly.”

  I half-smiled. “But why do they hate you so much? So much that they even go after one of your students?”

  Mr. Heywood smirked. “Remember? I told you I did something bad. And I left the gang, which just makes it worse.”

  “But what did you do?”

  He shrugged. “Who knows?”

  “Mr. Heywood.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “You remembered to call me Mr. Heywood!”

  “Don’t change the subject!”

  “Lance,” Mr. Heywood said, turning to look at him. “Are you ready to hear my tragic story of woe?”

  Lance stood up and said firmly, actually a little more firmly than I would have imagined, “Explain this to me from the beginning. Everything.”

  Mr. Heywood sighed and began talking. I already knew the story, so I went into the kitchen aiming for something to drink. After a few minutes of fruitless searching I returned to the living room, empty-handed.

  Mr. Heywood glanced at me, pausing in his story. “Need something?”

  “I’m thirsty.”

  He chuckled. “Sorry, I haven’t been to the grocery store lately. There’s some change on the counter. Grab that and go down to the vending machines.”

  I opened my mouth to refuse, but Mr. Heywood’s look gave me the impression that I wasn’t allowed to say no. I turned on my heel went to the counter, swiping the change off of it and clenching it in my hand. “I’ll be back, then.”

  Lance grunted in reply and I couldn’t help an amused smile from slipping onto my face.

  In the apartment hallway I turned left. It took me a moment to realize I didn’t know where they were. I hesitated before continuing down the hallway.

  What kind of apartment had vending machines? I furrowed my brow, but continued until I made it to the stairwell, where the vending machines were. I popped in the coins and pressed the button for a Pepsi. It dropped down and I bent down to pick it up, immediately pressing it to my sore cheek.

  I let out a sigh of pleasure. Oh, the wonders cold drinks could do for wounds.

  Suddenly, there was a pair of hands on my shoulders. I jumped, letting out a strangled cry. I struggled to get free of however had a grip on my shoulders. When they finally let go I turned to see a very tall young man with messy blond hair grinning at me. I stared at him curiously for a moment. Why did he look so familiar?

  “Holly. You remember me?”

  �
�Um . . .” I hesitated.

  The blond frowned in mock disappointment. “I’m slightly offended that you don’t remember me.”

  Who was this man? I knew I had met him before, but I couldn’t remember where. But he wasn’t an enemy . . . maybe one of Mr. Heywood’s friends?

  “Jeremy!” I said suddenly as the name popped into my head.

  Jeremy’s expression brightened and he nodded, a grin now back on his face. “You do remember me!”

  “Yep,” I responded.

  “Are you going back to Chris’s place?” Jeremy asked.

  I nodded.

  “Me too. I’ll accompany you.”

  I nodded again and together we set off back to the stairwell and towards Mr. Heywood’s apartment. “So, how are you?” I asked, trying to be polite.

  “I’m great! I’d ask you how you are, but it looks like you’re a little down for the count.”

  I laughed. “You could say that.”

  We started climbing the stairs to the second floor. Jeremy held open the door that led to the hallway for me and paused to study me seriously. “Were you attacked?”

  “Uh, yeah.”

  “Where’s Chris?”

  “Back in his apartment with Lance.”

  “Lance?”

  I took a deep breath. “Long story—”

  I was interrupted by a loud crash from down hallway. Jeremy and I exchanged startled looks. Muffled yelling could be heard now and I sprinted the last few steps to the apartment. I burst through the door just in time to see Lance punch Mr. Heywood in the face.

  “You stupid bastard!” Lance shouted, bringing back his fist again.

  Mr. Heywood stood there, making no indication that he was hurt and not even attempting to protect himself.

  “Lance!” I cried, attempting to stop him from punching Mr. Heywood again. “Lance!”

  Lance ripped his arm from my grasp roughly, making me fall forwards. Mr. Heywood put out his arm to steady me. Lance attempted to shove his arm away, but managed only to knock his hand into my bad cheek.

  I groaned in pain, falling over the two of them. Mr. Heywood placed me upright on my feet again. I rubbed my lip gently, glaring at Lance. He looked back at me guiltily. “Holly, I’m sorr—”

  “What are you doing?” I demanded. “You can’t punch a teacher, Lance!”

  “Holly, it’s okay,” Mr. Heywood cut in. “I deserved it.”

  I twirled around, staring at him in shock. “How did you deserve it?”

  “For getting you involved with those gangsters!” Lance responded, glaring at Mr. Heywood. “I didn’t know they were after you precisely—let alone that it was all this asshole’s fault!”

  “Lance,” I reprimanded sharply. “Watch your mouth. And it’s not completely his fault!”

  Mr. Heywood sighed, shaking his head. My heart was pounding so hard I swore people ten miles away could hear it.

  “You could get her killed!” Lance accused, crossing his arms.

  “I know the consequences very well, Mr. Greyson,” Mr. Heywood snapped, returning the glare.

  “It’s not his fault!” I repeated. “I’m the one who followed him that night at the fair!”

  Lance’s eyes widened. “The fair?”

  I quickly shut my mouth. That was right. I hadn’t told Lance about that incident!

  “What do you mean, Holly?” he demanded.

  “I got Holly caught up in a fight,” Mr. Heywood said before I could think of any excuses.

  I opened my mouth to protest, but Lance pushed me out of the way, after Mr. Heywood again. I stumbled backwards and a different pair of arms steadied me this time. I turned to see Jeremy frowning at the pair in front of him with a sober face.

  I turned to them as well now. Mr. Heywood had Lance’s arms locked behind his back. Lance scowled and tried to pull himself free, but it was to no avail.

  “You need to calm down,” Mr. Heywood ordered.

  “Like hell I’ll calm down! You put Holly in danger!”

  “I put myself in danger!” I told him, exasperated. “Don’t listen to Mr. Heywood! He’s lying!”

  “Holly,” Mr. Heywood said sharply.

  “Just stop fighting,” I begged, my eyes beginning to water. “Please.”

  Mr. Heywood’s gaze softened and he released Lance, whose expression had softened as well.

  “I want to go home,” I told them.

  “I’ll bring you,” Mr. Heywood offered immediately. “It’s too late to walk.”

  I shook my head. “No.”

  Mr. Heywood looked at me in surprise. “I’m not letting you go by yourself.”

  “I’ll go with her,” Lance interjected, scowling at Mr. Heywood.

  I shook my head again. “I don’t want to go with you either, Lance.”

  Lance’s expression now matched Mr. Heywood’s again.

  “You’re not going alone,” the both warned together.

  “Hey,” Jeremy cut in. “I’ll take her.”

  Mr. Heywood’s attention snapped to the man behind me. “When did you get here?”

  “Who’s he?” Lance demanded.

  I groaned, holding my head. “Enough questions! I want to go home.”

  Jeremy put a hand on my shoulder. “Trust me, I’ll get her home safely.”

  Mr. Heywood narrowed his eyes slightly. “You’d better.”

  Jeremy chuckled. “Unlike you, I’m not interested in high school girls.”

  I glanced at Mr. Heywood, who stared at Jeremy, looking stunned. Jeremy smirked, and I couldn’t help a small smile slipping onto my lips as well. It was impossible he felt that way, but it was still amusing to see that expression on his face.

  LESSON Thirteen

  “Holly, what happened to you?!”

  I winced at Casey’s loud outburst. “Why are you shouting so early in the morning?”

  “Your face,” Casey commented, touching her own cheek to show me what she meant.

  “I fell down the stairs,” I mumbled, avoiding her gaze.

  Casey laughed. “You’re so clumsy.”

  I forced out a laugh too, even though I felt a little guilty. I was lying to my friend. And she easily believed me—proof of how much she trusted me.

  My shoulders sagged. I was an awful person.

  Casey must have noticed my bad mood. She jabbed me in the side. “Well let’s get to school! I’m sure whatever reason why you’re upset won’t matter when you see Mr. Heywood!”

  I grimaced. Casey didn’t know he was part of the reason for my bad attitude.

  It had only been one day since the fight had gone down between Mr. Heywood and Lance. I hadn’t gone to school yesterday, hoping to have my injuries heal a little more before returning.

  “It’s weird how you, Lance, and Mr. Heywood were all absent yesterday,” Casey spoke up again.

  “Mr. Heywood was out?” I asked. Lance probably stayed home for the same reason I did, but why would Mr. Heywood?

  Casey nodded. “Yeah, we had a substitute.”

  I frowned. Did Mr. Heywood skip? Or did he suddenly get sick overnight? Did something happen? I suddenly felt sick with worry. I tried to shake it away. I was just being paranoid. Mr. Heywood was fine.

  When we arrived at the school, Lance was waiting by the gates, his arms crossed. When he noticed Casey and me he pushed himself off the wall and came towards us. Casey let out a little gasp and hurried forwards.

  “What happened to you?” she cried, her eyes wide. “That’s a horrible bruise!”

  Lance raised a hand to his face and shrugged. “I fell down the stairs.”

  Casey whipped her head towards me and I quickly threw on a shocked expression. “Holly did too!” she said.

  Lance raised his eyebrows at me, an amused smirk appearing on his face. “Is that so?”

  I nodded, giving him a quick smile, then looking away. Casey looked suspiciously between us. “Huh.”

  I gave her a questioningly look. She returned it. “Did
you two have a fight?”

  My heart skipped a beat. How could Casey have figured that out already?

  “No,” I said quickly, waving my hand. “Why would we—”

  “We did have a fight,” Lance cut in with a sigh.

  Casey’s eyes widened in surprise. “You did?”

  Lance nodded. “Yes and I’d like to talk to her in private about it.”

  Casey shot me a look. I returned it with a please-don’t-leave-me-here-alone look. She smiled held up her hand. “Say no more,” she told Lance. “I’ll just go over here for a bit.”

  I frowned as Casey began to saunter away towards the large oak tree that was on the other side of the gate entrance. Lance turned to me with a frown. I kept my face expressionless. What was there to talk about? I knew I had to apologize for yelling at him, but what did Lance have to say? Was he going to scold me more for getting into this gang problem? It wasn’t like it was my fault. Well, it was partially my fault.

  Lance took a deep breath. “Holly.”

  I watched him carefully. “Yes?”

  “I’m sorry,” he muttered, casting his eyes down.

  My eyes widened. Why was he apologizing? What did he have to apologize for?

  “For what?” I forced out.

  Lance shifted uncomfortably. “I yelled at you a lot yesterday. I don’t want you to be angry.”

  I blinked, my face expressionless. “You think I was angry because you yelled at me?”

  Lance gave me a confused look. “Aren’t you?”

  I returned Lance’s look with my own exasperated one. “No! Are you stupid? I could care less about that!”

  “Then what?”

  “Lance, you punched the guy I . . . you know,” I muttered, my face heating up.

  “Oh,” Lance responded, frowning again.

  “Not to mention this isn’t all his fault!” I continued quickly. “I don’t know what he told you, but I’m sure he blamed everything on himself, which isn’t true at all! And I’m not angry with you Lance, I was actually going to apologize too.”

  Lance raised an eyebrow. “You were?”

  I nodded. “I know you only got angry because you were worried about me, and I was a jerk about it.”

  He laughed. “Holly, don’t worry about it. I kind of understand.”