A Proscriptive Relationship

A Proscriptive Relationship: 11

I climbed into the slightly swaying compartment on the Ferris wheel 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. I blushed, looking away from him. My gaze fell on the crowd waiting in line. “What happens if someone sees us?”

Mr. Heywood chuckled. “Depending on who it is, either we’d 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 unload people and have people get on. 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 insouciantly.

“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 off the seat. Clinging onto the pole, I kicked him as hard as I could. He lost his balance and fell towards me. I screamed as his weight pushing on me made it impossible to hold onto 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. Soon the compartment was only rocking a little and 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.