A Proscriptive Relationship (6 page)

There was a jiggle of the door handle, and then a more violent one.

“It’s locked,” another girl responded. “Should we wait?”

“No, I’ve got to catch the bus,” the other girl responded. “We can come back tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

There were the sounds of footsteps, and after a minute all was silent. Mr. Heywood sighed, uncovering my mouth. I gasped in the air, trying to fill my lungs.

“Oh, sorry,” he apologized nonchalantly.

“You don’t sound sorry,” I returned, still trying to catch my breath. “What was that all about?”

“They probably wanted to talk with me.”

“Why didn’t you let them in?”

“It’s annoying,” he responded with a shrug.

I smiled in annoyance at him. I really couldn’t figure this guy out. First he was nice, then he was a bastard, and then he was nice again, and then he was a bastard again. I sighed and ran a hand through my hair.

“Come with me, Ms. Evers,” Mr. Heywood said suddenly, beckoning me with his hand. “I have a job for you.”

I followed him curiously to the equipment room that was attached to the main classroom. I walked in to find a bunch of boxes piled high. I turned to him with a questioning look. “What am I supposed to do?”

“I want you to unpack all of those boxes and put the items you have unpacked in their right places,” he explained, gesturing towards the pile of boxes. “Simple, right?”

I gawked at him. “I can’t do that!”

“Why not? You’ve been here longer than I have,” he said with a shrug. “I don’t know where everything goes.”

“But there’s so much!”

“You were late to class.”

“I’d rather have a detention,” I told him.

“Okay, you have a detention with me today. This is what you will be doing,” he responded, grinning.

We had a scowling contest for a few minutes. Then I sighed. This was so unfair. Why did I have to do all this work just because I was late? Had I done something wrong? What was this devil-of-a-teacher’s problem? I moved towards the first box and began trying to open it with my hands. I frowned when I couldn’t manage.

“Here.”

I turned just in time to see Mr. Heywood throw a box cutter at me. I jumped back, trying to get out of the way and almost tripped over a box. He chuckled and shook his head. I scowled up at him. “Don’t throw knives!”

“Pay more attention.”

“You could have stabbed me!”

“But I didn’t. You’re kinda clumsy, huh?”

I was about to retort, but I saved it. There was no way to win with him. I turned away from him and began cutting the duct tape with it. When I got a box open, I began taking the items out and putting them away in their correct places. Somehow I ended up telling Mr. Heywood where everything went. The fourth box was full of test tubes.

“These go in the cabinets in the classroom because students use them,” I told him, heading towards the door that led to the main classroom. Before I made it out the door he seized my wrist, stopping me. I nearly dropped the test tubes.

“What?”

“Don’t go out there,” he ordered, pushing me back towards the boxes. “Just set those test tubes on the counter. You can do the stuff in the classroom later.”

“Why not now?”

“The girls here stick around for quite a while.”

“It’s been an hour though,” I stated with a surprise. “There aren’t any more students in school. Clubs haven’t started.”

“There are girls alright.”

“It’s only your second day, how could you know that?”

“They were here until six yesterday,” he told me seriously. “They wouldn’t stop talking and asking me personal questions. I swear if I hear ‘do you have a girlfriend?’ one more time . . .”

“You don’t have a girlfriend,” I stated, placing the test tubes on the counter and going back to a new box.

“How do you know?”

“You said so in class yesterday,” I responded, cutting the tape with the knife. “Someone asked you.”

“Oh, yeah,” he responded, leaning against the counter, where he had been for the past hour, watching me. “I thought you weren’t listening.”

I shrugged. “I listened.”

Suddenly a shrill ringing filled the room. My hand automatically went to my cell phone, but I was confused when it showed up with no incoming calls. Whose phone was it? I turned to see Mr. Heywood pulling out his phone.

“What?” he answered, sounding unexplainably irritated. “No. I don’t care. I’m busy . . . No. Do it yourself. I told you no. You can’t always count on me; I’m a teacher now. No! I’m hanging up, goodbye.” He snapped his phone shut and shoved it back into his pocket, looking annoyed. He noticed me staring and narrowed his eyes. “What? Get back to work.”

“Yes, sir!” I responded quickly, turning around and sawing through the next box. In my rush, I accidentally missed the tape and ended up slicing myself. I hissed in pain and shook my hand.

“What?”

“Nothing,” I responded, smiling at him, holding my hand behind my back, and starting to saw the box open with one hand. Seconds later a hand captured my wrist and held it still. I looked up to see Mr. Heywood tearing off a piece of bandage with his teeth. I stayed silent as he wrapped the bandage around my hand, sealing off my cut. He wrapped it with medical tape and let go of my hand.

“
Um, thanks,” I said as he put the bandage back into what looked like a first aid kit.

“
Be more careful,” he warned, stuffing the box back in a cabinet. “You can stop with the boxes for today. Show me where the stuff in the classroom goes.”

I nodded, setting down the knife and grabbing some of the stuff that belonged in the classroom. Surprisingly, Mr. Heywood grabbed the rest of the stuff for me and helped me carry it. I told him where everything went, and he actually helped me put it away. I was slightly impressed. After all, he had been slacking for the first hour.

“
Well that’s everything,” I said when I put the last beakers away. “Is that all you need help with?”

Mr. Heywood nodded. “For now.”

“
What do you mean, for now?”

“
I’m going to make you a deal,” he started. “I’m going to let you keep your stuff in my room before you go to lunch that way you won’t ever be late, but you have to help me after school when I need it.”

“
No way,” I responded without hesitation. I could make it fine as long as I put my tray away in time.

He raised an eyebrow. “I should rephrase that. It’s not a deal. You have to do it.”

“
No,” I repeated.

 “
In that case . . .” Mr. Heywood pulled out his cell phone and came towards me. I backed up until I was backed up against the whiteboard. He smirked and held up his cell phone.

“
What’s that for?” I asked.

“
This.”

Before I realized what was happening, his face was only inches away from mine. My heart stopped. Why was he so close? Was he going to kiss me—wait, did I
want
him to kiss me? No, that wasn’t a good thought. I opened my mouth to tell him to get away, but he brought up his hand, placing two fingers on my lips. Confused, I blinked at him. He grinned a little, before kissing his fingers and snapping a picture. After a few seconds he pulled away and I furrowed my eyebrows. “What?”

He held up his phone. On the screen was a picture of him and me kissing. Well, no, we weren’t kissing, but it looked like we were. I stared at it with my mouth open.

“
Blackmail,” he stated. “Now if you don’t help me, I can spread this picture around.”

This guy really was unbelievable. But I couldn’t let that photo get out. I knew he would get fired and I would get in trouble. I cursed my personality. Why had I been born so kind?

“
You can go home now,” Mr. Heywood told me, a smirk still on his face. “I’ll see you tomorrow, right?”

“
Yes,” I responded through gritted teeth.

“
You want a ride?”

“
No, thank you.”

I grabbed my backpack and slung it over my shoulder, scurrying out of the room. Once I was out, I stopped in the hall, making sure no one was around before touching my lips again. My face felt warm. To think that guy could have taken my first kiss . . . and I’d almost
wanted
him to. I really needed to get over this mystery-man infatuation.

LESSON FIVE

“
It’s not that funny,” I growled, slamming a box down on the counter in the biology equipment room three days later, when I was hailed back to help him after class yet again. Although I complained, he really looked helpless when he couldn’t find things during class, so I took pity on him and didn’t fight helping him out
too
much.

“
You’re a senior, but you haven’t even been kissed?” Mr. Heywood asked laughing so hard he was out of breath. “You haven’t had your first kiss and you’re a
senior
?”

I felt myself blushing and I looked at the ground. “I mean I’ve done quick pecks and stuff, just nothing, you know . . .”

He started snickering again. “How many boyfriends have you had?”

“
Three,” I responded, frowning deeper.

“
Only three?”

“
What about it?” I demanded, glaring angrily at him. “I can’t help it if guys don’t like me!”

Mr. Heywood looked surprised for a second, and then he frowned. “You’re mistaken. I think a lot of guys like you.”

I raised my eyebrow at him. “How would you know? This is only your fifth day here.”

“
When you’re a young teacher, people tell you stuff,” he responded with a shrug. “For example, your friend Sadie is going to be asked out today.”

“
What?” I gasped. “By who?”

“
Some kid named Sam.”

“
I knew he liked her!” I responded, slamming my fist down into my hand. “It was only a matter of time!”

“
Yeah, like for your first kiss,” Mr. Heywood snorted once more.

“
Oh, will you drop it!” I snapped, unpacking the box that I had just placed on the counter. “How’d you even find out about that anyway?”

“
Your friend, Casey.”

That little traitor. With unnecessary force, I ripped the tape off the next box.

“
I’m going to go get a drink, do you want something?” Mr. Heywood asked, hopping down from the counter.

“
I don’t have any money,” I told him.

He shrugged. “It’s on me.”

“
Really?”

“
Don’t be so shocked, you make me feel like a mean person,” he responded with a sigh.

“
You are though,” I pointed out.

“
I know.”

“
Bottle of water. Now go,” I demanded, irritated again.

He left the room, and I continued to unpack in silence. There were only a few more boxes left to unpack. I’d probably finish today. If I finished, did that mean I was done helping him after school? For some reason, that thought made my stomach turn a little. Why was I sad about it?

I shook the thought away and continued unpacking. After my third box I frowned. How long did it take Mr. Heywood to go get drinks? I started on my fourth box and was halfway through when he walked in, carrying a coke and a bottle of water. He set them both down on the counter and ran a hand through his hair. “Jeez,” he muttered, pushing himself onto the counter.

“
What took you so long?”

“
I ran into some girls at the vending machine,” he explained, taking his Coke and opening it. “It took forever to get away from them.”

“
Why didn’t you just say you didn’t want to talk?”

Mr. Heywood gave me a flat look. I realized why he couldn’t do that. He was the “nice, handsome, young, amazing” new teacher. He couldn’t ruin his image. I grumbled as I grabbed my water. Why was it only me he was himself with?

“
Thanks.” I opened it and took a long drink, letting the cold liquid run down my throat.

“
Call me Chris outside of class,” he ordered, setting down his Coke. “It’s weird being called Mr. Heywood when school’s over.”

“
Um, sure.” After about a half hour, I finally finished the last box. I turned to Mr. Heywood, chewing on my bottom lip. “Mr. Heywood—er, Chris?”

He looked at me, opening his mouth to speak, but suddenly his phone went off. He placed the magazine he was reading down and held up a finger to me. He pulled out his phone and looked at it. A scowl appeared on his face and he flipped the phone open, putting it to his ear.

“
What now?” he demanded into the receiver. “How many times do I have to tell you no? No! I said I don’t care, and I really don’t care. Yeah. Do what you want, but leave me out of it. Go ahead. Whatever. Bye.” He snapped the phone shut and glowered at it for a moment before tossing it onto the counter.

“
Was that the same person from a few days ago?” I asked.

“
Yeah.”

“
Is everything okay?”

“Sure,” Mr. Heywood responded with a shrug. “What did you want?”

“Oh, um, all the boxes are unpacked and put away,” I told him, gesturing to all the empty boxes behind me.

“Oh. Well I guess you can go home for today,” Mr. Heywood responded, looking slightly surprised, and a little disappointed. “That took less time than I expected.”

 
I waited for him to say more, but when he didn’t I frowned. Was this really it? Was I off the hook now? No more chores from him? I didn’t know why, but not only did I feel disheartened, but I actually felt a little bit lonely. I hesitated by the counter, taking my time finishing my water so I didn’t have to leave.

It was much more fun to be here than to be at my house by myself since my mom didn’t come home until late due to her work. If I was here helping out Mr. Heywood, I actually had someone to talk to and interact with, even if it was just orders, and being made fun of.