A Proscriptive Relationship

by Jordan Lynde

  “You were gawking,” he told me, sharing the same expression as Mr. Heywood.

  Now I blushed, unable to look back up at Mr. Heywood. “I—I wasn’t gawking.”

  Mr. Heywood chuckled, but I still refused to look up at him. “We’ll need the C.O.W. for this activity, so I need a volunteer to come with me to go get it.”

  A few people said they’d go help him retrieve the Computer on Wheels, but I knew who he was going to choose before he even said it.

  “Vanessa, you wanna help?”

  I sighed, pushing myself up from my desk. I knew it—wait. I froze in my movements. Vanessa? My eyes snapped to Mr. Heywood, who was smiling at Vanessa. I turned to her, watching as she started to get up from her seat with an excited expression on her face.

  Without thinking, I shot up in my seat, throwing my hand in the air. “Mr. Heywood, I have to, um, go to the bathroom anyway, so I can just go with you to make it easier.”

  “Desperate,” Lance coughed quietly.

  I shot him a glare before turning to Mr. Heywood, who had a satisfied smirk on his face. That’s when I realized he did that on purpose. My jaw dropped and I opened my mouth to take back what I’d said, but he cut me off.

  “That works,” he said, his normal, polite smile returning. “Vanessa, maybe you could return it after class.”

  I didn’t have to turn to know she looked disappointed. “Sure,” she responded glumly.

  “Lance, will you hand out the packets?”

  Lance nodded, taking a pile of papers from him. “Sure thing.”

  He smiled. “Alright. Let’s go, Ms. Evers.”

  Shooting a glare at the back of his head, I followed him out of the classroom, and into the empty science wing hallway. As we walked through the quiet hall, he started whistling. I trailed behind him, my eyes on the floor, keeping a safe distance between us. Images of us kissing kept coming into my mind, causing my face to grow hot. What was he thinking right now? About the other night?

  We rounded a corner and suddenly I ran into something hard, causing me to fall a few steps back. I rubbed my nose, looking up to see him grinning at me in amusement. “That locker door came out of nowhere. You okay?”

  “I’m fine,” I muttered, dropping my gaze.

  “Really? Your face is a little red, are you feeling okay?”

  I glared at him, blushing deeper. “I’m fine!”

  He emitted a low chuckle. “What were you thinking about?”

  “N-nothing,” I stuttered, going to brush by him. He chuckled again, purposely stepping in front of me so I bumped into him. I grounded my teeth. He took pleasure in teasing me and was shameless about it.

  “You know Holly, you should probably stop blushing every time I look at you in class,” he advised, holding the door that led to the stairwell open for me. “Someone’s going to think you have a crush.”

  I glanced at him with a frown. “Then stop looking at me. It’s not my fault.”

  He snorted. “I can’t do the impossible.”

  A smile slowly made its way onto my face. Whether or not he meant that as a compliment, it still made my stomach flutter. He glanced at me, his gray eyes looking amused again. Suddenly I had the urge to grab his swinging hand, but I resisted it. We were in school. Here we weren’t a couple. We were student and teacher.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked unexpectedly, stopping halfway down the stairwell. With me on the step above him, we were almost the same height.

  I cocked my head. “What do you mean?”

  “Your expression just dropped,” he told me with a frown. “What are you thinking?”

  “Um, nothing really,” I told him evasively. Would he think I was being childish because I was disappointed about our lack of interaction? We both knew in school we couldn’t be together.

  He raised an eyebrow. “Tell me.”

  “The test is worrying me,” I murmured, down casting my eyes.

  “Holly, you can’t lie to me.”

  I pursed my lips, looking back at him. My eyes widened in surprise when I realized how close we were. His face was merely inches away from my own. Concern was etched into his eyes, causing my heart to skip a beat. I chewed on my bottom lip, hesitating for a moment. Mr. Heywood gave me an impatient look. I sighed.

  “I know it’s stupid,” I started, playing with the bottom of my shirt, “but it’s just . . .”

  “Just?”

  “I don’t like that we have to act like student and teacher instead of . . . you know,” I admitted, feeling my face heat up. “It’s weird. We have to act like we’re almost complete strangers. It’s a little, um, lonely.”

  His expression dropped a little bit. Immediately I regretted admitting what I was thinking about.

  “Sorry, just forget—”

  He suddenly leaned forwards and quickly pressed his lips against mine. My eyes widened in surprise and he quickly pulled away, glancing behind him. I raised a hand to my lips, looking at him curiously.

  “Holly, I understand what you’re saying,” he told me, putting a hand on my shoulder. “But I know that you know what comes with us being . . . you know.” He lowered his voice slightly, gazing at the door again.

  I nodded my head quickly. “I know. It’s just going to take a while to get used to.”

  He gave me a small smile. “Same here. Especially because while you have a reason to look at me during the whole class period, I can’t spend it looking at you, otherwise someone will think something’s going on.”

  With that, he turned and started down the stairs again. I blanked, staring at his back in surprise. A blush blossomed on my cheeks again and I hurried to catch up to him, catching the back of his shirt. “Thank you, Mr. Heywood.”

  “Chris,” he corrected me, glancing over his shoulder. “Mr. Heywood in class, and only in class.”

  “Right.”

  When we arrived at the library, he went in to get the C.O.W. while I waited by the entrance, rocking on the balls of my feet. He appeared moments later, lugging the large cart of laptops. I quickly hurried forwards to help him push it.

  “I now understand why they call this thing a C.O.W,” he told me as we pushed it out of the library. “They weigh just about as much as one. Turn left, we have to take the elevator,” he ordered.

  A few students in the classrooms we passed gave us curious looks as we lugged the Computers On Wheels towards the elevator. A few students waved enthusiastically to Mr. Heywood. He returned their gestures with an award-winning smile—one of his polite, fake smiles.

  “You’re still popular, huh,” I commented casually.

  He smirked. “Yep.”

  “Do the students ever tell you anything exciting?” Never before had I realized how hard it was to make small talk with Mr. Heywood. A grimace crossed my face. I needed to work on that.

  He shrugged, checking over his shoulder quickly to make sure our path was still clear. “A girl confessed to me the other day.”

  I nearly choked on my spit. “What?”

  His smirk grew wider and he raised an eyebrow. “Are you jealous? Trust me, it wasn’t even a sixth of how good yours was.”

  “People confess to you?” I asked in shock.

  “Oh yeah. All the time.”

  “I didn’t realize girls . . .” I trailed off, blinking rapidly. Girls confessed to Mr. Heywood? Who? When? Why? I swallowed my questions, trying to stay calm. I was not going to be the obsessive girlfriend.

  He suddenly started laughing, bending his head down. He was laughing so loudly that Mr. Cyr, the history teacher, glared at him before shutting his classroom door.

  “Your face was priceless,” he finally said, grinning like an idiot. “Absolutely priceless!”

  I glared at him, feeling my face heat up. “You were joking, weren’t you?”

  He nodded, putting a hand over his mouth to stop any more laughter from escaping. “Holly, you’re too cute.”

  “You’re a jerk,” I stated, slamming the button to the e
levator.

  “I know.”

  The elevator door opened, and together we moved the C.O.W. into the small compartment. I hit the button for the second floor, and the doors shut, leaving Mr. Heywood and me in silence. Suddenly he was next to me, a playful smile on his face. I took a step away from him warily.

  “Mr. Heywood, we’re in school,” I warned him.

  He raised an eyebrow. “I know this.”

  I frowned. Wasn’t he just about to kiss me?

  “I heard Lance wants you to go to court with him on Friday,” he commented, leaning against the elevator wall casually, crossing his arms.

  A sigh escaped my lips. “Mr. Heywood, I’m sitting in the back.”

  He scowled. “It’s still Shawn. You know what happened last time with Shawn?”

  “You got hurt,” I pointed out before he could continue. “Nothing happened to me.”

  “But something could.”

  “We’ll be in a courtroom!”

  “Holly, I’m worried about you,” he told me flatly, giving me an exasperated look. “Sure, you’re in a courtroom. But it’s Shawn. You don’t know him like I do.”

  I bit my lip. “I know . . . I just . . . Lance wants me to go and I’ll be at the back. I won’t let Shawn see me.”

  He stared at me for a moment, looking annoyed. Then he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Fine. Go.”

  “Mr. Heywood . . .”

  He shook his head. “I’m not angry. I get that you want to help Lance. But if you’re going to court Friday, then I want you to come over on Thursday.”

  I looked at him in surprise. “Huh?”

  “Now that we’re together, I don’t have to think of stupid excuses for you to come over,” he told me as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I wanted you to come over Friday, but if you want to go to court, come over on Thursday.”

  He wanted me to go over? I grinned at him, suddenly feeling one hundred times better. “I’ll definitely be over Thursday.

  This whole dating Mr. Heywood thing was great.

  LESSON forty-two

  Thursday came quickly and after school I hurried home to get ready to go to Mr. Heywood’s apartment. I hummed to myself as I bent down to lace my shoes.

  “You’re in a good mood.”

  My heart leapt into my throat as I stood up quickly, twisting around on my heel. My mom raised her eyebrow at me. “In fact, you’ve been in a good mood all week,” she commented thoughtfully. “I’ve got a good hunch . . .”

  “What hunch?”

  She smirked, giving me that awfully creepy, knowing smile. “Rhymes with Fister Meyhood.”

  “Sorry Mom, I don’t know any nun named Sister Kayhood,” I responded cheekily, but grimaced inwardly. She was too smart for her own good.

  She laughed. “Good one. How are you getting there?”

  “He’s coming to pick me up.”

  “That works out perfectly! I have to go back to work later, so I need the car,” she explained. “It’s going to be a very late night. I probably won’t be back until the early morning . . . why don’t you ask Chris if you can stay the night?”

  I looked at her in shock. “What? No, Mom. I’m not asking that.”

  The doorbell suddenly went off, startling me. My mom grinned widely and locked gazes with me. I knew at once what she was planning to do. We both started for the door at the same time.

  “Mom!” I called after her. “Mom, no!”

  “I’m just answering the door, Holly!” she responded, giving me an amused look from over her shoulder.

  Before I knew exactly what happened, I found myself lying face-first on the ground. A groan of pain escaped my lips just as I heard the front door open. My mom greeted Mr. Heywood enthusiastically as I glared at the floor in front of me, cursing my clumsiness. I had tripped over the rug.

  “Holly, get off the floor,” my mom ordered. “That’s rude.”

  Mr. Heywood chuckled as I pushed myself back to my feet, brushing off my shirt. It was just my luck I decided to wear black. It brought out the dirt fantastically. My mom disappeared from the hall, leaving Mr. Heywood and I alone. He smirked at me and I felt my cheeks heat up.

  “You’re coming with me to the grocery store,” he informed me, swinging his keys around on his finger. “Hope you don’t mind.”

  “I don’t,” I said quickly, causing his smirk to grow.

  “Okay, Chris, I have Holly’s bag here,” my mom said, suddenly reappearing with my backpack in hand. “It’s got everything she needs.”

  I stared at her in bewilderment. “What? For what?”

  “Staying over, silly,” she responded, rolling her eyes. “I told you I’m working late.”

  “But—but,” I spluttered, turning to Mr. Heywood, to my mom, and back again. “Wait a second. Did you guys have this all planned out beforehand?”

  He gave my mom a secret smile. “It seems like I’m the favorite babysitter, Holly.”

  “Babysitter?” I repeated incredulously.

  My mom quickly clapped her hands together. “Chris, didn’t you say you had to go to the grocery store? If you don’t hurry, it will close.”

  “It’s only seven!”

  He glanced at me, raising an eyebrow. “I guess we should get going. Here, I’ll take Holly’s bag.” He held out his hand to my mom, taking the backpack from her hands. “Ready, Holly?”

  “Yeah,” I muttered, shooting my mom a dirty look.

  Mr. Heywood dipped his head to my mom. “Nice seeing you again, Lynn.”

  “You too!” my mom chirped. “Come by for dinner sometime! Holly’s not the only one who likes your company.”

  “Mom!”

  Mr. Heywood chuckled, hoisting my bag over his shoulder. “I can take a hint. We’ll make plans soon. Take care.” He turned and went out the door, leaving my mom and I alone.

  “You’re creepy, you know that?” I said, frowning at her.

  She only smiled in return. “Holly, guys like Chris don’t come around every day. He’s a once in a lifetime catch, honey. When I met your father, it was the same for us. I don’t want you to lose him. And he doesn’t seem to want to lose you either.”

  Taken aback by her honest remark, I found I couldn’t say anything in response.

  “Besides, he is a good person to have around to babysit you,” she continued in a thoughtful voice. “He’s very reliable.”

  “Bye, mom,” I said, brushing by her. I was eighteen. I didn’t need a babysitter.

  She laughed. “Bye, Holly.”

  By the time I climbed into the passenger seat, Mr. Heywood had already buckled up and turned on the car. As soon as I snapped my seat-belt he pulled out of my driveway. The radio was turned off, leaving us in an awkward silence. My mind raced, trying to think of something to say to fill the quiet.

  “Your mom’s something, huh?” Mr. Heywood started, sparing me. “She’s funny.”

  I grunted in responding, causing him to laugh. “She’s kind of crazy. It’s like she expects us to get married,” I told him, glancing out the window.

  “I wouldn’t mind.”

  I stared at him with wide-eyes. “What?”

  Mr. Heywood glanced at me from the corner of his eye. “Not now, but in the future, I wouldn’t mind.”

  “Really?”

  “Is it that hard to believe?”

  I shook my head quickly. “No! Well, yes. Or rather . . . I don’t know,” I mumbled, embarrassed.

  Mr. Heywood chuckled. “Holly, I love you. Why wouldn’t I want to marry you? You’re just too young right now.”

  My heart skipped a beat, and for a moment I lost all train of thought. I didn’t think I’d ever get used to having Mr. Heywood say those three words so casually. Finally his words registered, and I pursed my lips. “You’re not.”

  He smirked. “Holly, we haven’t even gone a date yet. We can discuss the future in the future.”

  “True,” I responded, grinning at him. From the cor
ner of my eye I saw we were whizzing by the grocery store. “Um, Mr. Heywood?”

  He didn’t respond. I frowned slightly. “Mr. Heywood?”

  Still no answer.

  “Mr. Heywood!”

  “Sorry, my father isn’t here right now,” he responded in a business-like voice. “Please leave a message after the beep.”

  I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. “Sorry, sorry. Chris?”

  “Yes, Ms. Evers?” he responded, shooting me a sweet smile.

  “I thought you said we were going to the grocery store?”

  “We are.”

  “We just passed it . . .”

  He shook his head slightly. “We can’t go to that one.”

  “Why not?” I asked, furrowing my eyebrows. “Is it closed?”

  He laughed. “No, it’s open. But if we went there, there’s a chance that someone from school might see us. A lot of students work there. Not Lance anymore after his, um, accident, but other students. It’s too risky.”

  “Oh,” I said in realization, a frown slipping onto my face. “Then where are we going?”

  “Two towns over.”

  My frown grew deeper. We had to go two towns over just to go grocery shopping? It would have just been easier for Mr. Heywood to do it by himself. I looked out the window, watching the streetlights as we drove under them. “Do you think it’s going to snow this month?”

  “Snow?” Mr. Heywood repeated.

  “You know, the cold stuff that falls from the sky—”

  “Atmospheric water vapor that’s frozen into ice crystals. I’m a biology teacher, Holly. I know what snow is,” Mr. Heywood interjected.

  “So, are you going to answer my question?”

  “It might flurry, but probably nothing that will stick,” he told me. “Maybe around Christmas if it’s cold enough.”

  I blinked. Christmas? My hand shot to my phone in my pocket. The date read December 11. Christmas was in less than fourteen days. “What do you do for Christmas?”

  “I don’t know,” he responded simply.