A Proscriptive Relationship

A Proscriptive Relationship: o6

"Okay you have a detention with me today. This is what you will be doing," Mr. Heywood responded with a smirk.

"I refuse."

"Oh? Okay, then I will tell the principle that you had a romantic dinner with your teacher," Mr. Heywood said, shrugging.

"It wasn't romantic," I stated. "And you'd get in trouble too!"

He smirked. "Yeah, but I'll take you down with me."

We had a scowling contest for a few minutes and I sighed. This was so unfair. Why did I have to do all this work just because I late? Had I done something wrong? What was this devil-of-a-teacher's problem? I moved towards the first box and began trying to open it with my hands. I frowned when I couldn't manage.

"Here."

I turned just in time to see Mr. Heywood tossing a knife at me. I jumped back, startled. Mr. Heywood chuckled and shook his head. I scowled up at him.

"Don't throw knives!"

"It's closed."

"And if it wasn't?"

"I wouldn't have thrown it."

I was about to retort, but I saved it. There was no way to win with him. I pushed myself off the ground and grabbed the knife off the ground and began cutting the duck tape with it. When it was open, I began taking the items out and putting them away in their correct places. Somehow I ended up telling Mr. Heywood where everything went. The fourth box was full of test tubes.

"These go in the cabinets in the classroom because students use them," I told Mr. Heywood, heading towards the door that led to the main classroom. Before I made it out the door Mr. Heywood seized my wrist, stopping me. I nearly dropped the test tubes.

"What?"

"Don't go out there," he ordered, pushing me back towards the boxes. "Just set those test tubes on the counter. You can do the stuff in the classroom later."

"Why not now?"

"The girls here stick around for quite a while."

"It's been an hour!" I stated with surprise. "There aren't any more students in school. Clubs haven't started."

"They're out there."

"It's only your second day, how could you know that?"

"They were here until six yesterday," Mr. Heywood told me seriously. "They wouldn't stop talking and asking me personal questions. I swear if I hear 'do you have a girlfriend' one more time."

"You don't have a girlfriend," I stated, placing the test tubes on the counter and going back to a new box.

"How do you know?"

"You said so in class yesterday," I responded, cutting the tape with the knife. "Someone asked you."

"Oh, yeah," he responded, leaning against the counter, where he had been for the past hour, watching me. "I thought you weren't listening."

I shrugged. "I listened."

Suddenly a shrill ringing filled the room. My hand automatically went to my cell phone, but I was confused when it showed up as my screen. Whose phone was it? I turned to see Mr. Heywood pulling out his phone.

"What?" he asked in an irritated tone to whoever the caller was. "No. I don't care. I'm busy... No. Do it yourself. I told you no. You can't always count on me; I'm a teacher now. No! I'm hanging up, goodbye." He snapped his phone shut and shoved it back into his pocket, and irritated expression on his face. He noticed me staring and narrowed his eyes. "What? Get back to work."

"Y-yes, sir!" I responded quickly, turning around and sawing through the next box. In my rush, I accidentally missed the tape and ended up slicing myself. I hissed in pain and shook my hand.

"What?"

"Nothing," I responded, smiling at him, holding my hand behind my back, and starting to saw the box open with one hand.

Mr. Heywood returned to the magazine he was reading, and I continued with the box. With one hand, opening the box was a bit harder, but I eventually got it open. I looked at my other hand for the first time after slicing it. The amount of blood that had already come out of my cut caught me off guard. My jaw-dropped and I slightly began to panic. Would I need stitches? The first thing I needed was a bandage or something to stop the bleeding; otherwise I would get blood everywhere.

Suddenly a hand captured my wrist and held it still. I looked up to see Mr. Heywood tearing off a piece of bandage with his teeth. I stayed silent as he wrapped the bandage around my hand, sealing off my cut. He wrapped it with medical tape and let go of my hand.

"Um, thanks," I said to him as he put the bandage back into what looked like a first-aid kit.

"Be more careful," he warned, stuffing the box back in a cabinet. "You can stop with the boxes for today. Show me where the stuff in the classroom goes."

I nodded, setting down the knife and grabbing some of the stuff that belonged in the classroom. Surprisingly, Mr. Heywood grabbed the rest of the stuff for me and helped me carry it. I told him where everything was, and he actually helped me put it away. I was slightly impressed. After all, he had been slacking for the first hour.

"Well that's everything," I said when I put the last beakers away. "Is that all?"

Mr. Heywood nodded. "For now."

"What do you mean, for now?"

"I'm going to make you a deal," he started. "I'm going to let you keep your stuff in my room before you go to lunch that way you won't ever be late, but you have to help me after school when I need it."

"No way," I responded without hesitation. I could make it fine as long as I put my tray away in time.

He raised an eyebrow. "I should rephrase that. It's not a deal. You have to do it. Otherwise..."

I scowled at him. "I don't care if you tell the teachers I had you over to dinner. You practically forced me to! And I can just deny it."

"In that case..."

Mr. Heywood pulled out his cell phone and came towards me. I backed up until I was backed up against the whiteboard. He smirked and held up his cell phone.

"What's that for?" I asked.

"This."

Before I realized what was happening, his face was only inches away from mine. He put a hand over my face and I blinked at him, confused. Then he brought his head closer and I pulled back. 

"What are you doing?"

Mr. Heywood held up his phone. On the screen was a picture of him and myself looking to be kissing. I stared at it with my mouth open.

"Keeping the playing field even," Mr. Heywood stated. "Now if you don't keep my secret, I can spread this picture around."

This guy really was unbelievable. But I couldn't let that photo get out. I knew he would get fired, and I would also get in trouble. And earlier he had a very solemn expression when he had said he needed money right now. I cursed my personality. Why had I been born so kind?

"You can go home now," Mr. Heywood told me, a smirk still on his face. "I'll see you tomorrow, right?"

"Yes," I responded through gritted teeth.

"You want a ride home?"

"No, thank you."

I grabbed my backpack and slung it over my shoulder, scurrying out of the room.