A Proscriptive Relationship (33 page)

“What did he say?” Mr. Heywood asked, grabbing the phone away from me and looking at it with a scowl.

“He asked how Lance was, told me he was still after you, and he said he had ‘plans for me,’” I quoted, staring down at the ground. “He said he didn’t care whether Lance lives or dies, but he was only going to rough him up.” I looked back at Mr. Heywood who was glaring at the phone. “They said it was because he was at the towing place that night.”

“What? Because of that? I need to put an end to this.”

“But you can’t—”

“Holly, I’m not going to sit around while they pick off people close to me!” he cried, his voice raising a notch.

“They want you dead though,” I breathed, blinking repeatedly to keep any tears from spilling. “Did you hear me? Dead!”

“Yeah, I can’t say I’m surprised.”

“What did you do?”

His expression went blank for a moment, but then it quickly became hard. He narrowed his eyes at me. “I told you it wasn’t any of your business.”

“Well now it is!” I responded, clenching my fists. “And Lance’s too! You have to tell me!”

“Holly, just stop. It’s not—”

Without warning, I punched him in the chest as hard as I could. He didn’t budge, but shock flashed across his face. I hit him again, trying to put as much force into it as I could. He let me hit him a few more times until his hand captured my wrist and stopped me.

I scowled, bringing up my other fist, but he caught it immediately. I attempted to kick his shin. He let out a small groan of frustration.

“Is it my fault you’re so violent?” he muttered. “Just like a child . . .”

I stopped struggling at once, a little hurt by his comment. Time for a different approach.

“
Please,” I begged, putting my head against his chest. “Please. I’m begging you now! Just tell me. Please, Chris!”

“Holly, your hand is cold.”

I pulled away from him, yanking my hand out of his grasp. The tears were now spilling out of my eyes. I glared at him, taking a step away from him. Now he was going to change the subject? “I hate you. I hate you!”

He sighed, closing his eyes. I shook my head in disbelief, taking another step away from him. How could he? I turned to walk away, but a hand enclosed on my wrist and yanked me back. Something warm enveloped me and I looked down to his jacket over my shoulders. I tried to shrug out of it, but he held it on by force.

“Let go of me,” I said coldly.

“Holly, you have to promise me you won’t hate me after I tell you.”

I looked up at him in shock. His eyes pierced into mine with a scary seriousness, complimented by his somber face. I slowly nodded, clenching his jacket tighter to my body. He reached out and brushed a few stray tears from my face.

Hate him? How could he even think that I meant that? Couldn’t he see how much I cared about him? It was quiet for a moment. Then I sneezed.

He abruptly pulled away and cleared his throat. “You’re really cold, let’s go get you warmed up.”

*

“
What took you so long?” I asked him in the car.  “Your date?” I guessed.

“Yeah.”

“Is she a nice girl?” I asked casually.

“Very nice.”

“Is she smart?”

He chuckled. “Sometimes.”

I hesitated before asking the next question. “Is she pretty?”

“Beautiful.”

I bit my lip, staring at the dashboard in front of me. Who was this girl? Mr. Heywood seemed to like her a lot. Did that mean I had no chance? My chest constricted uncomfortably. Probably not. After all this person was probably a grown woman and I was still in high school. The affection Mr. Heywood showed was probably just something he did to entertain himself.

When he noticed I was lost in thought, Mr. Heywood asked, “Thinking of me?”

“No, of Jeremy,” I responded thoughtfully. “He’s been helping me out a lot lately. I’m trying to decide what I can do to make it up to him.”

“
You can date Jeremy if you want.”

I turned to him in shock, not expecting that answer. Was he kidding? He didn’t care? I pouted. So he didn’t care . . . well, that was right. He still had a girlfriend.

He started snickering. “Sorry, Holly,” he apologized, his trademark smirk in place once again. “You know, your reactions—”

“Are too cute, I know,” I finished for him, rolling my eyes. “Except one of these days I’m really going to mean what I ask you.”

“I don’t want you to date Jeremy.”

Once more, I was shocked by his words. Since when did he say such things so bluntly?

I shrugged. “Then I won’t.”

“Good.”

If there wasn’t a blush on my face before, I was sure there was one now. I hated it, but I felt that by what Mr. Heywood had just said that I might have a chance with him. Maybe he did like me. Maybe he could return my feelings. But that meant I’d have to confess and there was no way I could do that right now.

But I wanted to. I wanted to so badly. I clenched my fists, now coming up to the road. Why did he have to be my teacher? And why couldn’t I be eighteen already? My feelings were already too much for me to handle. Suddenly my thoughts turned sour as realization set in. I couldn’t say it. I couldn’t tell him my feelings and have a chance of being rejected, or being accepted and making him lose his job.

Unless we kept it a secret . . .

The rest of the ride was silent. We had a lot to talk about when we got to his apartment.

*

 
“
Let’s go in the living room,” Mr. Heywood suggested when we arrived at his apartment, putting a hand on my back and leading me into the room. “Sit.”

I did as he asked, watching him curiously. “You aren’t going to order me to make you coffee or something?”

He smirked. “Do you want me to?”

I shook my head, looking away from him. In a way, I actually kind of wanted to. It just seemed like an ordinary thing between him and me. But I wasn’t about to let him know that.

“
I’ll make some hot chocolate.”

I frowned at him. “Are you feeling alright?”

“
Fine,” he responded, raising an eyebrow. “Why?”

“
You’re being so un-you.”

A wry smile appeared on his face. “I can’t be nice?”

“
No! That’s not it!” I said quickly, waving my hands in front of me. “It’s just that—”

“
Do you want to hear my story or not?”

I shut my mouth instantly, glaring at him. Well, good—he was being as rude as usual after all.

After disappearing into the kitchen for a few minutes he returned with two steaming mugs, setting them on his coffee table. He took a seat on the chair across from me, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. “Now this is a long story.”

“
I’ve got time,” I pressed, a frown on my face. “You promised—”

“
I’m going to tell it to you,” he cut me off, rolling his eyes. “Don’t whine.”

“
Sorry,” I muttered bitterly.

“
I guess I should start by saying that I lied to you.”

My eyes snapped back to him, growing wide with surprise. He had lied to me? “When? About what?”

He sighed again, running a hand through his messy, still damp hair. “Remember the time at the fair when you first followed me into the forest?”

 “
Yeah . . .”

“
Everything I said on the Ferris wheel was a lie,” he admitted.

“
Everything?” I echoed.

He nodded. “There was no friend I wanted to protect. I joined the gang out of my own free will. I liked fighting. I liked the thrill it gave me.”

I recalled that conversation and how I had cried because I thought I had had the wrong opinion on him. “So I was right.”

“
You were right?”

“
Back then,” I started slowly. “I thought you were a conceited jerk. But that story about your friend made me change my views. But it was fake.”

“
I’m sorry about that,” he apologized. “I didn’t know what else to say. I couldn’t tell you the reason why they were after me. I didn’t want to scare you away.”

“
You wouldn’t have told me the truth no matter what, then, huh?”

“
Probably not. The part about the lighters was the truth though. They did burn me at one point, so the scars were real.”

“
It would be that part that was the truth,” I said, a frown slipping onto my face.

“
Before I go into all the details, tell me what Jeremy told you about me.”

My eyes widened. “What? H-he didn’t tell me anything!”

Mr. Heywood snorted. “Yeah? And I invented the punching bag.”

“
Well I wouldn’t be surprised—”

“
Holly.”

“
He didn’t tell me a lot,” I said, biting my lip. “Don’t get mad at him! I basically forced him to tell me.”

“
Just tell me,” he responded, a new edge to his voice. “I don’t want to hear you defending Jeremy. I just want to know what he told you.”

“
Well, he told me you were gang leader, which was surprising,” I said begrudgingly. “And he also told me that you skipped two grades in middle school and he showed me a picture of your ex-girlfriend.”

“
He
what
?” Mr. Heywood said, suddenly sounding furious.

“
It was just a picture of you with her in the yearbook.”

“
Did he tell you her name?” he questioned.

“
No,” I responded, narrowing my eyes in confusion. “Why?”

“
No reason.”

“
What is her name?”

He pursed his lips at me for a second before reclining back in the chair with a sour look. “Haley Pierce.”

“
Oh.” What an unusual last name . . . I repeated it in my head a few times trying to think if anyone I knew had that last name. I couldn’t think of anyone.

“
What else did Jeremy tell you?” Mr. Heywood asked, changing the topic.

“
Um,” I hesitated, glad to not be talking about his ex-girlfriend. “Oh, yeah! You graduated college at age twenty, right?”

“
That’s right.”

“
So how come you didn’t get a job as a teacher right away? Why did you wait a full year?” I questioned.

“
If I tell you that now, it will ruin the ending of my story,” he responded. “Do you want me to ruin it?”

“
No,” I said immediately. “I want you to start from the very beginning.”

“
From when I joined the gang?” he asked, looking over at me with a skeptical expression. “If I start from there, we’ll be here all year.”

“
Fine, then start from wherever the reason Shawn wants to kill you comes from.”

He chuckled. “Straight to the good part.”

“
I don’t think that should be considered good.”

“
Well there are multiple reasons,” he started, ignoring me. “I’m guessing one of them is the fact that I became gang leader even though I’m six years younger than him. He really wanted to be leader. He would’ve, too, if I hadn’t accepted. Honestly, half of the reason why I accepted was just because Shawn wanted to be the leader,” he continued, ignoring my glares. “I still remember the look on his face when it was announced. It was priceless.”

“
And that’s why he wants you dead?”

He rolled his eyes. “Be real, Holly.”

I clenched my teeth together. “I am being real! From what I gather, someone from the gang could want you dead just for looking at him the wrong way.”

 “
That’s true,” Mr. Heywood chuckled. “Probably not death though, but you could be beaten up for it. “

“
What were your reasons for fighting people?” I asked, looking at Mr. Heywood curiously.

“
I was challenged,” Mr. Heywood responded simply. “I was never the one to start a fight. Provoking people is a different story though.”

“
But, why?”

“
Because I thought fighting was the best thing ever when I was younger,” he explained, shaking his head. “It excited me. It made me feel alive. And no one could stop me.”

“
What do you mean?”

“
My parents weren’t around,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. “And all my relatives lived too far away to even know what I was doing.”

His parents weren’t around? A twisting feeling crept into my stomach as I quickly did math in my head. He’d joined the gang at age sixteen and he said his parents weren’t around.

“
Mr. Heywood . . .”

“
Chris,” he corrected me. “How many times—”

“
Did you lie?” I said quietly, turning accusing eyes on him.

“
About what?”

“
About your parents.”

He looked at me in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“
You just said your parents weren’t around when you joined the gang. But the time you were giving me a ride home you said your parents died the same day my dad died, which was only two years ago. Did you lie about that?”

“
What? No!” he responded. “Do you honestly think that I’d lie about something like that?”

“
Then what did you mean?”

“
I meant they were so busy with work they were never home,” he explained, a frown on his face. “Why would you think I’d lie about my parents dying?”

“
Well, you lied about all the other stuff.”

“
Holly, I’m sorry I lied to you, really,” he apologized sincerely.

“
Do you promise not to lie to me again?” I blurted out suddenly. Then I realized what I said and blushed. “No, sorry, ignore me.”

To my surprise, he started laughing. “If I promise not to lie to you, you can’t lie to me,” he bargained.

“
I don’t lie to you.”