A Proscriptive Relationship

:A Proscriptive Relationship: 54

Mr. Heywood handed me a cup of tea. “Here. I guess I ran out of coffee.”

“I want sugar,” I demanded, looking at the cup of tea.

Mr. Heywood gave me a flat look. “You know where it is, go get it yourself.”

I pursed my lips at him. “But—”

“While you’re at it, get me a spoon.”

Pushing myself off the couch, I trudged to the kitchen without protesting. Mr. Heywood was obviously stalling. He’s the one who wanted to talk to me. Why was he making me suffer by avoiding the talk? I felt sick because of how much I wanted to know what the “bad” was. The sugar was right above the silverware drawer so I quickly grabbed it and the spoon before returning to the living room.

“Here,” I told Mr. Heywood, standing above him, holding out the spoon.

He reached up to grab the spoon, but instead of grabbing it he grabbed my wrist and pulled me down next to him.

“You can sit closer, I won’t bite,” he told me, amusement in his voice.

I blushed, causing him to chuckle. “Mr. Heywood—”

“Chris.”

“Chris,” I corrected myself. “What do you want to talk about?”

Mr. Heywood lost his grin. “Straight to the point, huh?”

“I feel like are roles are switched,” I commented, smiling slightly. “Usually I’m the one skirting around the bush.”

“It’s about what happens if Shawn actually did get away,” Mr. Heywood admitted.

I raised an eyebrow. “Why aren’t we talking about this in front of everyone else? Shouldn’t they know?”

“Because this is about something they don’t know about,” Mr. Heywood told me. “Well, Jeremy might know, but I wanted Jeremy out of my house.”

“Something they don’t know?”

Mr. Heywood nodded. “Yep.”

I frowned at him, thinking deeply. What was something Jeremy might know, I knew, and Lance and Casey didn’t know? Nothing came to mind right away. “I don’t know,” I finally said.

“If Shawn did escape,” Mr. Heywood started slowly, as if choosing his words carefully. “We’re going to go to the police and tell them everything.”

It took a second for his words to register in my mind. When they did, I gasped, my eyes growing wide. I started to shake my head. “No, Mr. Heywood. No.”

“Holly—”

“If we tell them won’t you go back to jail?”

Mr. Heywood stayed silent for a moment. “There’s a chance,” he admitted quietly.

“Then don’t—”

“Holly, if we tell them what’s going on, then Shawn will go to jail as well,” Mr. Heywood interrupted, giving me a stern look. “If Shawn goes to jail, this is all over.”

“But at the expense of you going to jail as well!” I protested. “That’s not fair!”

“It is fair, Holly,” Mr. Heywood responded with a wry smile. “I was told if I got involved with the gang again, I was going back to jail. I did get involved, and what’s worse, I got three teenagers involved as well.”

“I’m an adult,” I stated stubbornly.

“Technically you’re still a teenager,” Mr. Heywood said softly. “And I’m responsible for getting you involved.”