A Proscriptive Relationship (10 page)

“
What kind of girls do you go for?” I blurted out without thinking.

Mr. Heywood opened his mouth to respond, but shut it quickly. For a split second I thought there was an expression of pain on his face, but before I could be sure, it was gone. He glanced at me and smirked. “Well, I go for the kind that don’t have a lot of experience. They are the cutest, you know? Now, shall we go?”

He walked by me, his shoulder just barely brushing by mine. I stared after him for a moment, his last words echoing in my mind. What did he mean by that? Was he insinuating something? I shook my head quickly. It meant nothing. He was just teasing me like usual.

I hurried to catch up with him, my dizziness completely gone now. We were behind the rides now. I made sure to step over all the cables, being extra cautious not to trip again. When I caught up to him he looked at me from the corner of his eye, an amused smile playing on his lips. “You know you look like hell, right?”

I gave him a wry smile. “Thanks.”

He chuckled. “Don’t worry. I have a comb in my bag.”

I raised my eyebrows slightly. Even I didn’t carry around a comb in my bag. “You have a comb?”

“
I need to look good in front of the ladies, right?”

I rolled my eyes and attempted to push past him but he stopped me, grabbing the back of my shirt. After releasing me, he dug into bag for a few seconds and pulled out the comb. With a finger he gestured for me to move closer to him. I did so, and held out my hand for the comb. He smirked, pulling the comb out of my reach. “I’m doing your hair for you.”

“
No you’re not,” I responded quickly. “No way.” I attempted to back away but his hand shot out and grabbed my shoulder, pulling me closer again. I sighed. It wasn’t even worth bothering to even try and escape his grasp.

“
Keep your head still,” he ordered.

“
Yes, sir.”

His hand ran through my hair, getting out the largest tangles. I stood restlessly, letting him have his way. I had to admit, he could get out snarls without it hurting me the slightest bit. I was surprised at how easily he moved the comb through my long hair.

When he was finished, I ran a hand over my head. Not a single knot.

“
You wouldn’t have been able to get out the ones in the back of your hair if you did it,” he told me, putting the comb away.

“
That’s true.”

“
Now,” Mr. Heywood said with a serious face, “do you want me to drive you home? I think you’ve had enough fun for one night.”

I faked a laugh. “Yeah, fun.”

Mr. Heywood grinned. “Well at least I had fun. And I’m ready to go home too, so it’s no trouble.”

I frowned slightly. I did want to go home. But I really wanted to go on the Farris wheel. I looked at Mr. Heywood pleadingly.

“
You want something?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“
I want to go on the Ferris wheel before we leave,” I told him, averting my gaze. “Do you . . . um, want to come with me?”

I didn’t have to look at him to know he was smirking.

“
Of course. I can take the time on it to explain a few things to you, since now you’ll be caught up in some of my problems.”

I looked up at him again with a questioning look.
What problems?

He gave a half shrug. “I said I’ll explain on the Ferris wheel.”

“
Okay.”

Fortunately, by now, the line for the Ferris wheel was much shorter. I climbed into the swaying compartment carefully, holding tightly onto the railings. When my whole body was over the gap between the compartment and dock, I quickly sat down so I wouldn’t fall. Mr. Heywood followed, casually stepping in without a worry. He sat across from me and the worker closed the gate, sending me a knowing smirk, as if he knew how nervous I was. I looked away, my gaze falling on the crowd waiting in line. “What happens if someone sees us?”

Mr. Heywood chuckled. “Depending on who it is, either we’ll have to think of a pretty convincing excuse as to why we are riding the Ferris wheel together, or it wouldn’t matter. There’s nothing wrong with a teacher and student going on a ride together, unless you think of it the wrong way.”

I nodded and the compartment suddenly lurched forward. We moved for about thirty seconds and it stopped again, to load and unload more people. Mr. Heywood sighed and looked at all the people below us.

“
Do you like Ferris wheels?” I inquired, frowning slightly. I hadn’t even asked if he was fond of them or not. He might have a fear of Ferris wheels for all I knew.

Mr. Heywood shrugged. “I don’t hate them,” he responded.

“
Oh.”

The compartment began to move again, going up higher into the air. I licked my lips nervously. In my excitement to go on the Ferris wheel, I had forgotten I was afraid of heights. How ironic was that? I placed my hands securely on the seat, hoping the compartment would stop swaying. When we were about halfway from the top, the Ferris wheel started moving full speed. I stared wide-eyed at the ground below us. Since when did Ferris wheels go so fast? I reached out and gripped the pole in the middle.

“
Are you scared?” Mr. Heywood asked in a teasing voice.

“
No,” I lied, swallowing hard as we continued to go higher.

“
You won’t mind if I rock the compartment then, would you?”

Before I could protest, Mr. Heywood stood up and started shaking the compartment. I wrapped my arms around the pole and held on tightly as he violently shook the only thing keeping us from falling and dying.

“
Scared now?” he asked.

“
Stop!” I cried, my heart racing. “Please, stop!”

Mr. Heywood laughed. “Say you’re scared.”

I glared at him and forced myself up off the seat and shakily stood next to him. Still clinging to the pole, I kicked him as hard as I could. He lost his balance and fell towards me. I screamed as his weight broke my grip on the pole and we both fell onto my seat, making the compartment rock even more violently than it already was.

I frantically grabbed onto Mr. Heywood, wrapping my arms around him, and gripping onto the back of his jacket. My breath quickened, and I squeezed my eyes shut, waiting for the rocking to stop. Mr. Heywood sat up, dragging me with him. Although I was pissed at him, I couldn’t bring myself to let him go. When the compartment was nearly still I opened my eyes, my hands still shaking and attached to his jacket.

“
You’re a jerk,” I accused, my voice cracking.

“
I’m sorry,” he apologized, looking amused. “I didn’t think I’d fall . . .”

“
Why are you like this?” I demanded, slowly making myself release him.

He straightened out his jacket, smoothing the wrinkles I had made. “Like what?”

“
This! You always say something mean to me and than apologize and think everything is okay!” I cried, throwing up my arms. The compartment shook again and I leaned forwards, grabbing onto Mr. Heywood again. He put his hands on my shoulders and after I moment, I let go of him.

“
I’m sorry,” he said, frowning. “It’s just my personality.”

“
Well it’s not a good one!” I told him.

“
I know,” he responded.

“
Yeah—wait, what?” I said, staring at him.

“
I know I have a horrible personality,” he told me, rolling his eyes. “I’m not an idiot.”

I felt the wheel come to a stop and looked around me before I could stop myself. Dizziness swept over me when I realized our compartment was at the top. Usually I would be feeling excited, but after my near death experience, I was feeling sick. I pushed myself away from the side, but before I could sit back Mr. Heywood grabbed me and pulled me towards him.

“
Wait,” I said, trying to pull away from him.

He held me tighter and slid me down right next to him. “No. I know you’re scared, so it’s okay.”

I chewed my lip, but sighed. He was right. I was scared. And being closer to him made me more comfortable—not that I was going to let him know that. “Fine. But now you tell me why those men tried to assault you in the woods.”

Mr. Heywood chuckled. “Straight to the point, huh? Don’t you want to know why I became a gangster?”

I looked up at him. If I said yes, would he tell me? Or would he be his usual self and say something along the lines of “like I would tell you.” After a moment of hesitation I nodded. He was the one who offered.

He snorted. “Like I would tell you.”

I tried to move away from him. I knew it. He held me fast, though, and laughed quietly. “Just kidding,” he said. “I’m not sure exactly when I started. Either my freshman or sophomore year of high school. It just so happened that a bunch of members from the town’s gang attended my school.”

“
That doesn’t mean you had to join them,” I pointed out.

Mr. Heywood hesitated for a moment, looking uncomfortable. He let out a long sigh before continuing. “That’s not it. I didn’t join out of my free will right away. At first I was just like every other normal student. I got good grades, played soccer on the school’s team, and had friends. But one of my friends was a complete stereotypical nerd who was made fun of all the time.”

I stayed quiet, nodding my head when I felt the need to. Mr. Heywood stretched, resting his arms on the top of the seat. I leaned forwards, to make sure that I wouldn’t accidentally lean back onto his arm. Sitting next to him like this made me feel like we were a couple taking this ride on the Ferris wheel together. My face heated slightly at the thought.

Luckily, Mr. Heywood’s voice interrupted them.

“
I’m not sure about nowadays, but back when I went to school, we had the classic bullies who literally beat people up for lunch money and all that.”

“
Weren’t you in high school like four years ago, Mr. Heywood?” I asked.

He raised an eyebrow, ignoring my question. “I told you to call me Chris out of class.”

“
Sorry, er, Chris,” I responded, looking at my lap. “Please continue.”

He chuckled. “Anyways, I bet you guessed it, but my friend was beaten up constantly. He never told me, but one day after soccer practice I ran into a fight. Four guys were beating up Chris. Without thinking, I dropped my equipment and attacked them.”

“
All four?”

Mr. Heywood nodded. “It was easy. They were all down for the count in five minutes flat. It just so happened the leader of the school’s gang was watching and he decided he wanted me to join them. Do you know what happens when you refuse to join a gang?”

I shook my head. Mr. Heywood suddenly started to take off his shirt. I grabbed it and pulled it back down, blushing madly.

“
What the hell are you doing?” I demanded, avoiding eye contact.

“
Relax,” Mr. Heywood responded with a snicker. “I’m just going to show you something.”

I frowned and let go of his shirt. He pulled it up again and showed me his back. My breath caught when I saw a large, pale, scar across the top of it. I slowly reached out and touched the smooth skin.

“
What did they do?” I whispered.

Mr. Heywood let out a bark of laughter. “What do you think? They all got together and hit me until I agreed to join.”

I looked lower on his back and saw another scar. I touched it and Mr. Heywood arched his back slightly. “What is this scar from?”

“
Lighters,” he responded.

“
Oh my God,” I said, pulling my hand away. “You didn’t tell the police?”

“
And get myself killed?” He pulled down his shirt and looked at me with an eyebrow cocked. “I don’t think so.”

“
But—”

“
They knew I was stronger than the leader,” Mr. Heywood explained, ignoring me. “That’s why they all got together to force me to join. If there had been only like, five or seven of them I could have taken them. Twenty, not so much. And after I joined, I was able to easily stop the bullying at school. My friend was never harassed again.”

“
So why didn’t you just join before they beat you up?” I asked.

Mr. Heywood shrugged. “I hadn’t thought about the good things being in the gang would allow me to do—that’s why I refused at first.”

“
So you went through all that just for your friend?”

“
Pretty much,” he responded with a shrug. “But it was also for everyone else who was being bullied as well.”

I stared at Mr. Heywood. I had been wrong about him all along. He wasn’t some jerk who didn’t care about anyone but himself. In fact, it was like he cared about everyone else more than himself. He had gone through all that, plus having both his parents die? Guilt washed over me. It felt like my heart had dropped into my gut. I was the jerk here. Not him. Mr. Heywood put a hand on my shoulder, and I looked up at him. He looked almost as guilty as I felt, which threw me off guard. What was he feeling guilty about?

“
Are you okay?” he asked in concern. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you upset.”

That’s why he felt guilty. I shook my head quickly. “That’s not it . . . It’s just . . . I had pinned you as a self-centered jerk, but I didn’t know you at all, so I was just assuming things and I feel really bad about it because you’re actually a nice person who would do all that for you friends. And yet the whole time I knew you . . .”

Mr. Heywood’s face twisted into an expression I didn’t recognize. “It’s okay. Being a jerk is part of my personality as well. That just isn’t my whole personality.”

“
I’m a jerk too,” I pointed out.

“
No you’re not,” Mr. Heywood said with a sigh. “You’re just an honest girl who cries easily. And who is probably very gullible,” he added as an after thought.

“
How’d you know?” I asked.