A Proscriptive Relationship (21 page)

His face softened and he nodded his head. “There’s a few key things to know if they try to attack you while fleeing, which they undoubtedly will.”

Jeremy rolled his eyes and propped his feet up on the coffee table. “I still say we just let her fight them.”

“I’d be killed,” I stated, frowning. “I don’t even want to delude myself into thinking I could take on a gangster . . .”

Mr. Heywood nodded, sending a glare at Jeremy. “The most important thing is keeping Holly safe.”

“How much do you know about fighting?” Jeremy cut in, looking at me curiously.

“I’ve watched a few movies,” I responded, furrowing my eyebrow. “I know right hooks, left hooks, uppercuts . . .”

Jeremy looked impressed. “Anything else?”

“I took karate for like a week when I was younger.”

Jeremy smiled wryly. “Yeah, so that won’t help.”

“Let’s start with punching,” Mr. Heywood cut in. “If you feel that you have to fight back, and by have to, I mean
have
to
,” Mr. Heywood started, putting emphasis on his words, “aim for the nose and lips.”

I stared at him. “What? Why? The head is where it’d hurt—”

“You could easily break the smaller bones in your hand or collapse your knuckle if you go for places with the hardest bones,” he explained. “Especially if you’re a girl. The nose is the best spot, then the temples, then the throat, and moving lower aim for the kidneys.”

I raised my hand. His expression became amused for a moment and he grinned a little. “Yes, Ms. Evers?”

“What do I do if my hands are . . . unable to be used,” I said, wording my sentence awkwardly. “Like, if they were holding my arms or something.”

“Kick,” Jeremy responded simply. “It should be in your nature to kick violently if some man has his hands on you when it’s not wanted.”

Mr. Heywood nodded. “Kicking is correct. However, don’t aim for the head.”

“Why not?”

“They may be aiming to kill you, but I highly doubt you want a murder on your hands. Aim a kick right, and with enough force, it can kill someone.”

My eyes widened slightly and I shook my head. “Yeah, definitely don’t want that.”

“Good, because killing someone never leads to good things . . . right, Chris?” Jeremy added, nudging his friend in the shoulder.

Mr. Heywood shot him a glare before rolling his eyes. “Everyone knows that.”

I gave the pair a suspicious look. “Yeah . . .”

“If you fall on the ground, roll,” Mr. Heywood said, turning his attention back to our lesson again. “Trust me when I say that they will not hesitate to kick you while you’re down . . . or stomp on you.”

I winced at the mental image in my head. “Will do . . .”

“Now let’s practice.”

“P-practice?” I choked out.

He nodded. “Stand up. I’m going to pretend to attack you, you do what you can to protect yourself.”

“I don’t know if this is a good idea,” I mumbled, but still climbed to my feet.

“I’m rooting for ya!” Jeremy cheered. “Beat the crap out of him!”

Mr. Heywood spared Jeremy a dry look before turning back to me. “I’ll move in slow motion so you have time to defend.”

I nodded. Suddenly he threw a punch at me. Instead of dodging, I flinched, bringing my hands up to shield my face. Jeremy laughed from his chair and I opened my eyes to see Mr. Heywood’s fist a couple inches away from my face. Embarrassed, I let out an awkward laugh. “I’m guessing that was wrong.”

Mr. Heywood blinked. “New idea. Jeremy, get up. You pretend to attack Holly, and I’ll help her out.”

Jeremy jumped to his feet. “This’ll be fun.”

Mr. Heywood moved to stand behind me. I stood stock-still,
very
aware of how close he was standing to me. If I took one step back my back would bump his chest. Jeremy gave me a wolfish grin before advancing on me. He brought out his hand, aiming for a hit to my jaw. Still distracted by Mr. Heywood’s presence behind me, I didn’t move. That is, until Mr. Heywood suddenly put his hands on my shoulders and turned me slightly, so Jeremy’s fist knocked into my shoulder lightly.

“Block jabs with your shoulder,” he told me, his hand capturing my right wrist, “and then counter strike quickly.” Our hands went to Jeremy’s face, my knuckles brushing his nose. “Understand?”

“Y-yes,” I stammered, positive my face was thirty shades of red.

He finally let go of my hands and I returned them to my side. “If you cover your face like you did before, you’re not only blocking your vision, but occupying your hands so you can’t defend either.”

I glanced over my shoulder at him. He was closer than I expected, so I quickly averted my gaze. “Oh. I never thought of that.”

“You shouldn’t have to,” he responded tightly. “Jeremy, throw another jab.”

Jeremy nodded and I felt Mr. Heywood’s hands return to mine. This time he moved closer to me, pressing his chest into my back. When he spoke, his voice was right next to my ear. “Another good technique is to parry. Just slap the hit downwards.”

“R-right . . .” As soon as Jeremy threw his punch, Mr. Heywood brought my palm down on his fist, redirecting its path away from my face. I felt like a marionette doll.

Jeremy pulled his hand back, looking satisfied. “But remember, if you keep your hands down at your sides like you had them earlier, you might not have time to parry an attack.”

“Oh, so that’s why boxers always have their hands near their faces,” I commented, impressed.

Mr. Heywood released my hands again and stepped away from me. I almost frowned at the loss of contact.
Holly, don’t be weird
, I chided myself.

“Yes, but you shouldn’t keep your hands near your face all the time either,” Jeremy continued. “What if someone tries to punch you in the kidneys?”

I stared at him. “I don’t know?”

Mr. Heywood sighed from beside me. “Damn it.”

Bristling at his remark, I turned to him. “Hey, this was
your
idea, remember?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t realize you would be so clueless.”

My mouth opened at his sharp response, but nothing came out.
What’s his problem?
I thought bitterly.

A phone ringing suddenly pierced the silence and Mr. Heywood took his phone out of his pocket and looked at the caller ID. “I’ll be right back,” he muttered, glaring at the phone before turning and going out into the hallway.

Jeremy and I exchanged curious looks, but I shrugged it off. Mr. Heywood always seemed to be chatting to someone on the phone. And he usually didn’t end the call in a good mood.

“Good riddance,” I said after a moment, crossing my arms over my chest.

Jeremy patted my shoulder. “Don’t worry about it.”

“
Worry about what?”

“
He’s just worried about you. That’s why he’s so snippy.”

I frowned. “You think?”

Jeremy smiled slightly. “I know. He’s such a mother hen when it comes to you. I don’t think I’ve seen Chris this worried over anything.”

I looked down at my hands. “Like a mother worries over her children, huh . . .”

Jeremy abruptly started laughing. “No. Like a man worrying for someone he cares about.”

I blushed and shook my head. “But not in that way!”

Jeremy grinned. “Oh, so you like him in ‘that way’?”

“I don’t love him!”

“Whoever said I was talking about love?” Jeremy responded, his grin growing wider. “This is just too cute. You guys will make a great couple!”

I glowered at him, feeling embarrassed. “It’s obvious he doesn’t like me like that.”

“I think he does.”

“You’re stupid then,” I told him. I didn’t want to get my hopes up. And after all, I was still a high school girl while he was an adult.

“You don’t know him like I do,” Jeremy responded. “I think you’d be good for him . . . especially because of the way his life has been up until now.”

I looked back up at Jeremy, who was frowning now. “What do you mean?”

“I mean—”

The door opened and before I realized what was happening, Jeremy pulled me into a deep hug. I put my hands on his chest and tried to push him away. “What are you doing?” I demanded.

“Making him jealous.”

I heard footsteps across the floor and then they stopped behind me. I swallowed nervously, now trying to slide my way out of Jeremy’s grasp.

“I was gone not even five minutes and you throw yourself at her?” Mr. Heywood asked, grabbing my shoulders and forcibly yanking me away from Jeremy.

I stumbled and fell back into his chest, now blushing. He steadied me before letting me go. I looked up at him and he threw a disapproving look to Jeremy.

Jeremy shrugged. “A guy gets lonely sometimes.”

“
Can I trust you to take her home? Or will you attack her in the car?” Mr. Heywood snapped.

“I might,” Jeremy responded with a smirk.

“I don’t have time for this,” Mr. Heywood said, sounding exasperated. “Yes or no.”

Jeremy nodded. “Yeah, yeah. What’s got you all hyped up? A date?”

Suddenly Mr. Heywood’s lips curved up into a smirk. “Something along those lines . . .”

Jeremy stared at him in shock. I froze, suddenly feeling sick.

Mr. Heywood had a date?

LESSON fifteen

“
Holly. Holly? Holly!”

Something hit the top of my head and I jumped, coming out of my daze. I looked to my right to see Lance frowning at me. “I’ve been calling your name for the past minute!” he complained.

“Sorry,” I responded, stretching.  

“Can I have your extra pizza sticks?”

A grin made its way onto my face and I shook my head, sliding my lunch tray over to Lance. “You wanted my attention just to ask me that? Usually you just take them.”

“Can’t I be a gentleman once in a while?”

He grinned at me and I rolled my eyes. The small scar on his head from when the bat hit him caught my attention. He caught me looking and frowned. “It doesn’t hurt,” he informed me, running a finger over it. “It’s just sort of ruining my good looks.”

I snorted. “Yeah, okay.”

Silence fell between us again and I moodily picked through my trail mix. I had already picked out the M&Ms and the only things left were all the nuts and raisins. Both food items were gross in my opinion.

I absently wondered if Mr. Heywood liked peanuts. Or if he liked chocolate . . . I frowned slightly after a moment. I didn’t actually know anything about him, besides his past as a gang member, and I didn’t even know all that. He was keeping something from me. But he never shared what he liked or disliked. He never told me what he liked to do, or where he came from.

He probably wouldn’t tell me who he went on a date with.

I huffed, crushing a peanut between my fingers. Who did Mr. Heywood know that was a girl besides the faculty and students here? And more importantly, what did he see in her? Mr. Heywood had never mentioned a girl before! And Jeremy didn’t even know who he was dating.

I wanted to know who she was, but at the same time I didn’t. What if she was a beautiful woman against whom I couldn’t compete? It was possible. Mr. Heywood was very handsome . . .

I heaved a heavy sigh, slumping onto the table. Love was a very unfair thing.

“Holly Evers. You tell me what’s wrong with you this instant!” Lance demanded, giving me a hard look.

“Huh?” I looked at him in surprise. “What are you talking about?”

“You’ve sighed at least fifty times since lunch started,” a new voice from my left pointed out.

I jumped again, turning to my left to see Casey watching me with concerned eyes. “When did you get here?”

“I’ve been here the whole time,” she told me, raising an eyebrow. “You didn’t notice me?”

“Oh . . . no.”

“Because she’s too busy being in the dumps about something she won’t share with us,” Lance interjected, frowning at me.

“Tell us what’s wrong,” Casey prompted. “Obviously there’s something going on.”

I shook my head. “Nothing’s going on.”

They both gave me skeptical looks.

“Really,” I assured them.

“Not even the slightest?”

“Fine. I didn’t study for the math test,” I lied. “All the formulas got to me and I said screw it, I can afford to fail. So it’s not that big of a deal. And even if it was—”

“Holly, don’t faff.”

“Don’t what? Actually, never mind. Listen, sometimes there are problems I have that you wouldn’t want to hear about, Lance. And it just so happens that this one happens to be about a man you don’t really like.”

His eyes widened in shock. “Oh, Mr. Hey—”

I shot him a warning glare.

“H-hey now, hey now, this is what dreams are made of!” he sang quickly, making his voice high-pitched as he sang.

I shook my head, and caught Casey grinning widely at me. I watched her carefully.

“It’s about Mr. Heywood isn’t it?” she guessed, looking smug.

“What? No!” I responded too quickly, glaring at Lance, who was still singing.

Casey grinned wider, if that was possible. “Oh, I think it is.” She turned to Lance. “Don’t you think so too, Lance?”

They stared at each other. Lance held up his side for a minute, but I could see him start to falter under Casey’s intimidating gaze. “Ah . . . No . . . Actually,  I think so too,” he mumbled.

“Lance!”

“C’mon, just tell us,” Casey urged.

“Where’s Willis?” I asked, trying to change the subject. “And Danielle? And Sam?”

“Away,” Casey responded quickly, she put on a pouting face. “Holly, just say it. We won’t judge you. I’m your best friend, you can tell me. Besides I already know how you feel about him.”

I let out an exasperated sigh. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, Casey . . .”

She stared at me curiously. “What do you mean?”

“Just because I like him doesn’t mean anything will happen . . . besides, he’s got a date.”

Casey’s eyes widened more. Even Lance looked surprise. “So that’s your problem,” he commented, frowning slightly.

I glared at him, letting out a
hmph
.

He snickered at me. “Aw, is Holly jealous?”