A Proscriptive Relationship

A Proscriptive Relationship: o6

I hesitated slightly before knocking on Mr. Heywood's door. My heart was pounding a mile a minute as I waited for him to answer. What was going to happen? Was I going to be yelled at? Beaten up? Or maybe he was going to be nice about it and let me off the hook and he just couldn't say so in class?

I heard the click of a lock and the door opened a sliver. Mr. Heywood's head popped out and he looked left and right quickly. I watched him curiously until suddenly he opened the door a little more and grabbed the front of my shirt, pulling me into the room in a flash. He quickly shut the door after me and locked it.

"Why are you locking the door?" I demanded, getting nervous. "Mr. Heywood?"

"Shh!" he shushed, a finger over his lips.

"Shh? Why?"

"Shh!"

"Tell me why, and I will—"

Suddenly Mr. Heywood's hand was over my mouth. He pulled me away from the door and pushed me against the wall, his eyes never leaving the door. I tried to pull his hand away from my mouth but his force was too strong. I could hear girl's voices outside the door. They were giggling about something. I continued to try and pull Mr. Heywood's hand away from my mouth because it was blocking my nose and mouth— basically, I couldn't breathe.

Mr. Heywood glared at me and I went limp, trying to stay as silent as possible. I even held my breath, even though I couldn't breathe in the first place. There was a knock at the door. Mr. Heywood was now holding his breath as well. After a moment there were a few more knocks.

"Is he there?" I heard a girl ask. "Try the door."

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," Mr. Heywood apologized nonchalantly.

"You don't sound sorry," I returned, still trying to catch my breath. "What was that all about anyway?"

"They probably wanted to talk with me."

"Why didn't you let them in?"

"It's annoying," Mr. Heywood 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. 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 room. I walked in to find a bunch of boxes piled high. I turned to Mr. Heywood 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 responded with a shrug. "I don't know where everything goes."

"But there's so much!"

"You were late to class."

"I rather have a detention," I told him.