A Proscriptive Relationship

by Jordan Lynde

  Light filled the room as I switched on the light switch Jeremy was talking about. He looked at me in surprise.

  “Maybe the electric company didn’t notice yet?” I suggested, shrugging.

  “Maybe,” Jeremy murmured in agreement, but his eyes were wary.

  I surveyed the room in front of me. It was very wide and very bare. The only pieces of furniture in the room were a ratty old couch that was against the far left wall, with a recliner to accompany it, and scattered chairs against the right. There was a staircase on either side of the room, that led up to a balcony that hovered over the back section of the room. There were doors along the balcony that I assumed led to other rooms. It was very grand.

  “What was this room used for?” I asked Jeremy.

  “Fights,” he replied simply. “Mock fights. Challenges. Practice.”

  I stared at him in awe. “You actually fought here?”

  “It was our base for a reason, you know,” he responded, raising an eyebrow. “C’mon, I’ll show you something cool.”

  “Okay.”

  I followed Jeremy towards the set of stairs on the left and he began to climb them carefully. He took one step at a time, testing each stair with his weight before stepping on it fully. When we finally made it to the top without incident, he gestured toward a door directly across the hall.

  “This is our Hall of Fame in a way,” he told me, opening the door to the room.

  I peered in and furrowed my eyes in confusion. “Why are all those papers on the floor?”

  “What?” Jeremy looked around me and he let out a little gasp. “What happened here?”

  The room was a mess. Papers littered the floor. Jeremy pushed me aside and walked into the room, frowning deeply. “I wonder who did this,” he said, squatting down and picking up one of the papers.

  I walked further into the room and bent down and picked up what looked like a photograph. I turned it over to the front and was staring at a familiar face, only a few years younger.

  “Jeremy,” I started, walking over to him. “Is this you?”

  Jeremy stood up, taking the photo out of my hand. He looked at it for a second and grinned. “That’s me. Back when I was a junior.”

  “You were so cute!” I exclaimed, taking the picture back. “I would have totally dated you!”

  “Hey,” he said, sounding offended. “I’m only four years older now.”

  I ignored him, bending down and picking up another piece of paper. This time it was a news article cutout. I scanned it quickly. There was a picture of a teenager on it. In a nutshell, the article was about a teen that had beaten another nearly to death.

  “That’s Jason,” Jeremy commented, making me jump. “He was arrested though.”

  “Why is the clipping here?”

  “Didn’t I tell you? This is our Hall of Fame. Granted, everything used to be on the wall though . . . I really wonder who tore it all off.”

  “Hall of Fame? As in . . .?”

  “As in, if you did well in a fight, your picture would be up on the wall. On the back it’d say your name, age, opponent, and how long the fight took. You could also get on the wall if you got into the newspapers. There were other ways of getting on it too, but I’ll save those for your imagination.”

  I looked at the picture of Jeremy when he was a junior. Sure enough, there was writing on the back. “So it took you ten minutes to beat this guy named Vic?”

  Jeremy nodded. “It wouldn’t have taken so long if the bastard hadn’t surprised me with a knife.

  I let out a startled gasp. “Is that legal?”

  Jeremy scoffed. “There’s nothing illegal or legal in fighting . . . well, technically speaking.”

  “But that doesn’t seem fair . . .”

  “Nothing’s fair in fighting, Holly,” he informed me. “You’d do best to remember that.”

  “O-okay,” I responded, turning my attention back to the papers on the floor.

  I continued to look at the backs of photos and random news articles about all the different people who were in the gang. There were a lot of different types of people involved, including one skinny guy who looked Italian. He looked so weak, I couldn’t imagine how he’d gotten here. Most everyone was kind of bulky. There were quite a few photos of Jeremy. All the ones I found with him I put in my pocket to save.

  “Found it!”

  I jumped at Jeremy’s sudden outburst. “Found what?”

  “Look, look!” he said excitedly, shoving a photo into my hands.

  The photo was of a very handsome teenager, who was glaring at the camera. I had to resist the urge to snicker. “Was he always like this?” I asked.

  Jeremy laughed. “Chris would never smile for any pictures . . . however there is one in here. Not sure where, though.”

  “He’s so cute. I wish I knew him when he was younger,” I commented, flipping the photo over. “Why aren’t there any names on it? Did he not fight anyone?”

  “No, it’s because he fought everyone.”

  My eyes widened. “What? He did? Why?”

  “Because he was our gang leader.”

  LESSON sixteen

  “You’re kidding me.”

  Jeremy laughed, taking the photo from my hands. “I believe this was Chris in his freshman year of college . . .”

  I looked at the photo again. “No way. He’s too young.”

  Jeremy raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you know? Chris skipped two grades in middle school.”

  “What? Really?”

  Jeremy nodded. “He graduated at age sixteen. After that he went straight to college and managed to graduate with his teaching degree in only three years. Probably had a lot of classes each semester, too.”

  My mouth was open in shock as I digested this information. Just how smart was Mr. Heywood?

  “So wait . . . he was gang leader at age sixteen?”

  “Eighteen,” Jeremy corrected me.

  “Then why doesn’t this picture have names? He wasn’t the gang leader when it was taken.”

  “This is why.”

  I watched as Jeremy unfolded a piece of paper. He handed it over and it crinkled in my hand. The edges were yellow from age. I scanned down the paper. It was full with names, and fight durations. “It can’t be . . .”

  “Oh, yes it can. Flip the paper over.”

  I did Jeremy commanded, and my eyes met more names. “This is crazy!”

  “He’s a crazy good fighter,” Jeremy responded. “Over one hundred matches won within half a year. Two hundred by the end of it. The only reason Chris didn’t become gang leader as soon as he joined was because he wouldn’t accept.”

  I shook my head in disbelief. “This isn’t possible . . . it’s almost inhuman.”

  “You’ve seen Chris fight, right?”

  Images of Mr. Heywood’s one-hit knockouts flooded my mind. I nodded my head vigorously.

  “There you go.”

  I frowned at the photo for a few moments. “Okay . . . so if he joined the gang when he was either a freshman or sophomore in high school—”

  “Sophomore,” Jeremy corrected me. “And how’d you know that?”

  “He told me,” I responded, before returning to my thoughts. “That means he was part of the gang since he was around fourteen . . . then at seventeen he went to college, and was still part of the gang. At twenty, he graduated . . .”

  “Where are you going with this?” Jeremy asked, sounding confused.

  I turned my attention onto him. “Why didn’t Mr. Heywood start teaching when he was twenty-one? Why wait until a year later? And he didn’t quit the gang until this year, when he started teaching . . . so what did he do in that year between graduating and starting as a teacher?”

  Jeremy suddenly looked uncomfortable. He squatted down and began searching through the papers on the floor again, ignoring my questions. I walked over to him and lowered myself to his level.

  “Tell me what Mr. Heywood did during that time, Jeremy
.”

  “It’s not my business to tell, I’m afraid,” he said quietly. “Chris will tell you if he wants you to know.”

  “Does this have to do with why your old gang wants him dead?” I demanded, my gaze hardening.

  “Oh look what I found!” he cried excitedly, standing up.

  I followed suit, a small scowl on my face. “Don’t ignore me, answer my question!”

  “Look, Holly. Isn’t Chris so cute when he smiles? This was his graduating year at college.”

  Jeremy dangled the photo in front of me. I tried to focus on it, but with the swaying of his hand, he made it impossible. I snatched it from his grasp and held it out in front of me. A silly grin made its way onto my face as I looked at the picture. Mr. Heywood was dressed up in a pair of faded jeans and a black button-down shirt. He was with Jeremy and they were both grinning at the camera, their arms wrapped around each other.

  “Aren’t we so cute?” Jeremy sighed. “This picture was taking on one of those rare days when Chris would actually smile.”

  “I feel like I’m looking at a totally different person,” I told him. “I mean, I know Mr. Heywood is younger in this picture, but I’ve never seen him with this expression.”

  Jeremy nodded. “He used to be a lot more carefree before the accident . . .” he trailed off, looking everywhere but at me.

  “The accident?” I repeated.

  “Ah, ah, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he responded nervously, giving me a crazy look.

  “But you—”

  “Well, well, well. What do we have here?”

  My head snapped towards the doorway and my gaze landed on a man around Mr. Heywood’s age. He had gelled black hair and stood at an alarming height. And even though he wore a black sweatshirt, it was tight enough to outline his large muscles.

  Jeremy glowered at him. “What are you doing here, Shawn?”

  Shawn? The name clicked in my head, but I couldn’t remember where I’d heard it.

  “I could ask you the same question,” Shawn responded, looking amused. “How dare traitors show their faces around here.”

  Jeremy slowly stepped in front of me, his arm going up protectively. “This place hasn’t been used for years . . .”

  “Well you’re wrong about that, aren’t you?” Shawn responded sarcastically.

  “Apparently.”

  A moment of silence passed between the two. Finally Shawn looked over to me. “This wouldn’t happen to be the famous girl I’ve heard so much about, would it?”

  “No,” Jeremy responded quickly. “She’s my girlfriend.”

  Shawn continued to stare at me. “Really? I didn’t know you were like that, Jeremy.”

  Jeremy shot him a dirty look.

  “What a turn of events,” Shawn continued. “Dan didn’t do justice in describing her.”

  Dan? Horror washed over me when I realized that Dan was the guy I had attacked two times now.

  “Well, it was nice seeing you,” Jeremy said. “Now if you don’t mind, we’ll be taking our leave.”

  “Not so fast.”

  I stared at Shawn, whose gaze slid onto me. He gave me a wicked smile. “Since you are both here, shall we have some fun? I’ve been meaning to get back to you for ditching the gang to join Heywood’s side.”

  Jeremy tensed, his hands clenching into fists. “I’ll fight you, but let Holly go.”

  Shawn stayed quiet for a moment before nodding, a smile slipping across his face. “Very well.”

  “What? I’m not leaving you here,” I whispered urgently, gripping Jeremy’s arm.

  “The most important thing is to keep you safe,” he whispered back, never taking his eyes of Shawn.

  “Shall we escort her outside then?”

  Jeremy nodded. “Let’s go.”

  “I’m not leaving without you,” I repeated stubbornly. “Even if you leave me outside, I’m coming back in to get you.”

  Jeremy looked at me, an amused expression on his face. “Now I know why Chris does what he does.”

  Before I could ask him what he meant by that, he was across the room. He grabbed the surprised Shawn’s shirt and yanked him all the way in. Jeremy turned and sent a punch into Shawn’s face, which made him stagger backwards.

  “Run!” Jeremy ordered, gesturing me towards him.

  I maneuvered myself around the shocked man and followed Jeremy out the door. He slammed it behind me and led me towards the staircase. He stopped when he noticed two men climbing up towards us.

  “Holly, go down the other way. I’ll take out these two and meet you at the front door. No arguing. Go.”

  I nodded and took off in a sprint across the balcony. I heard the sound of Jeremy talking to the other pair of men and then the unmistakable sound of someone being punched. I winced, hoping it wasn’t Jeremy.

  I was about ten feet away from the stairs when someone grabbed my hair. I cried out in shock, coming to an immediate halt.

  “And where do you think you’re going?

  I turned around to glare at Shawn, who let go of my hair. He gripped my forearm tightly with one of his hands instead.

  “I don’t have time for this,” I said, and with that, I brought my fist as hard as I could into his face.

  Instead of letting go of me, like I thought he would, his grasp tightened and he looked at me in amusement. “You must be the girl Dan was talking about. You really are feisty,” he commented. “But you’re still a little girl and that punch was still weak.”

  “Then we do this the old fashioned way.”

  Shawn stared at me curiously. I brought my knee up as hard as I could into his crotch. This time he let go of me in surprise and I twisted on my heel, fleeing before he got over the pain.

  I shook my fist lightly. That had definitely not been a weak punch. And Mr. Heywood had even said I had a good punch. Who was this guy?

  I came to the stairs and ran quickly down. On the fourth stair my foot went through the board, followed quickly by the rest of my body. I screamed in surprise as my body plummeted down the rotten step. I frantically grabbed onto the step above me, catching myself before I fell all the way.

  As I hung there, I tried pulling myself back up, but found it to be impossible almost immediately. I had almost no upper body strength. I struggled for a minute more, trying to force myself up, but it only made my arms more tired.

  I grunted as I hung in the air, frustrated. I’d definitely break a leg or ankle or something if I just dropped down from the stairs.

  A sudden pressure met my fingers and I cried out in pain.

  “You think you can get away after doing that to me? Who do you think you are?”

  I couldn’t see who it was, but the voice told me it was Shawn. I scowled. Couldn’t he stay in pain for at least a minute longer?

  “I think it’d be fun to let you fall, so that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

  I winced as he ground his shoe into my fingers, making them ache painfully. After a few seconds, I already felt like they were going to break.

  “Stop!” I begged, my hands becoming slippery with sweat.

  “I can’t hear you,” he taunted, switching hands.

  I hissed in pain, trying to control the shaking of my other abused hand. My arms screamed in protest to the unusual treatment of my muscles.

  “You’re tough. But you won’t be tough when I break your fingers.”

  I sucked in a breath when he took his foot away. Was he going to stomp on them?

  “Holly, let go!” a voice cried from under me.

  Without a second thought, I shut my eyes and let go of the staircase. A piece of the broken stair scratched my cheek as my head went by it. I fell through the air for a split second and then abruptly landed in someone’s arms. I opened my eyes to see Jeremy staring at me.

  “Let’s go,” he demanded, putting me down and grabbing my hand.

  He yanked me towards the door, running faster than I could keep up with. He forced me out
and then slammed the door behind him. We ran to the car together and I didn’t hesitate to wrench the car door open and hop in. Jeremy did the same and stuffed the keys into the ignition. He started it in one swift movement and we peeled out of the driveway. Soon, we were speeding down the dirt road away from the house.

  I let out a deep sigh of relief, trying to catch my breath.

  “That was close,” Jeremy sighed, glancing in the rearview mirror. At least no one was following us.

  “You’re telling me! Imagine if the car didn’t start.”

  He grimaced. “I’d rather not. You okay?”

  I nodded. “I’m fine. How about you?”

  “Perfect,” he said, grinning. “Hadn’t had that much of a thrill in a while. It was nice.”

  “Gangsters,” I muttered.

  Jeremy laughed. “Hey, I don’t appreciate that word.”

  “How about thug?”

  “I prefer ruffian.”

  “Let’s stick with hoodlum.”

  Jeremy rolled his eyes at me. “Forget it, stick with gangster. I can’t believe it was Shawn we ran into. And we made it out without a scratch.”

  “Is he strong?”

  “Yup. We got lucky.”

  I looked into the rearview mirror again. Just who was this guy? And why did he harbor such a grudge against Jeremy and Mr. Heywood?

  “Hey, isn’t your class trip tomorrow?”

  “Oh yeah!” I sat up straighter. “I haven’t even packed!”

  “I wish I could go,” Jeremy sighed. “I want to go to the beach while the weather is still okay.”

  “To be honest, I don’t know why we are going in October since it’s been chilly lately, but it’s supposed to be warm tomorrow. Fortunately. Why don’t you just come down for fun?” I suggested.

  “Can’t. I’ve got to watch my sisters,” he responded.

  “You have sisters?”

  “Yup.”

  “How old?”

  “I have a thirteen-year-old sister and a seven-year-old sister,” he told me, smiling slightly. “They’re cute. You’ll have to meet them sometime.”

  “Sure,” I responded, smiling too now.

  We lapsed back into silence as we entered the downtown area. As we passed the grocery store, I vaguely wondered if Lance was working. Jeremy pulled into my driveway and I unbuckled myself, grabbing my backpack from the floor. “I’ll see you later, Jeremy.”