"Ow," I hissed, trying to pull away from Mr. Heywood's grasp. "Stop it! That hurts!"

Mr. Heywood sighed for the umpteenth time. "I need to disinfect the cuts, Holly."

"Yeah, stop being a baby," Lance called from the couch.

I turned to scowl at him. "You made more of a fuss then I did!"

He blushed slightly and looked away from me with a huff. When he did, I saw the bandaged wrapped around his head. I felt guilty immediately.

Mr. Heywood forced my head back to the front. I immediately locked gazes with him. His gaze was so piercing it made me embarrassed and I had to look down at the floor.

Mr. Heywood continued to gently clean my cuts with disinfectant and cotton balls. Every now and then I'd hiss in pain, but Mr. Heywood's constant, regular breathing kept me calm.

After what felt like forever to me, but in reality was actually only five minutes, he was done. He placed two band-aids on the biggest cuts, and left the rest alone.

"You know, if you weren't clumsy, you wouldn't have any cuts," Mr. Heywood informed me, a smirk playing at his lips.

"Shut up," I muttered, turning pink. "The only reason I fell was because Lance threw me off balance the first time. And the second time I was tackled down football style, so I don't think this was my fault."

Mr. Heywood sighed. "I'm sorry. I knew something was going to happen. I should have stayed closer."

I shook my head. "I didn't expect to have to leave the diner. We had parked right next to it."

"But Holly didn't see the no parking sign," Lance added.

I snatched the box of band-aids from Mr. Heywood's hands and chucked them at Lance. They hit him in the bandaged area and I heard him suppress a groan of pain.

"But still," Mr. Heywood continued. "I got you into this mess. The least I could do is protect you from getting hurt, and I couldn't even do that. What's worse is that I dragged another person into it. And it's another teenager on top of that."

I placed my right hand on Mr. Heywood's shoulder. He looked at me flatly.

"I hate this. I hate how I was dragged into this. I hate how Lance was dragged into this. I hate being injured. I hate everything about gangs and wish I was never involved with them."

Mr. Heywood blinked, looking surprised. He opened his mouth to speak, but I cut him off.

"But since it's too late for all that, all I can do is do my best to stay safe, keep you safe, and now keep Lance safe. I don't want to see anyone else get hurt."

Lance snorted. "Save the soap opera stuff."

I scowled, looking for something else to chuck. Mr. Heywood chuckled, patting my head.

"You're a good girl, Holly."

I half-smiled. "But why do they hate you so much? So much that they even go after one of your students?"

Mr. Heywood smirked. "Remember? I told you I did something bad. And I left the gang, which just makes it worse."

"But what did you do?"

Mr. Heywood shrugged. "Who knows?"

"Chris."

Mr. Heywood raised his eyebrows. "You remembered to call me Chris!"

"Don't change the subject!"

"Lance," Mr. Heywood said, turning to look at him. "Are you ready to hear my tragic story of woe?"

Lance rolled his eyes. "It better be good. Otherwise I'm going to beat the shit out of you for dragging Holly into something so dangerous."

"Lance!" I cried, half shocked, half amused.

Mr. Heywood chuckled. "Trust me, I'll let you beat me up anyways."

"Right. Now explain to me from the beginning. Everything."

Mr. Heywood sighed and began to explain. I already knew the story, so I went into the kitchen, aiming for something to drink. After a few minutes of fruitless searching I returned to the living room, empty-handed.

Mr. Heywood glanced at me, pausing in his story. "Need something?"

"I'm thirsty."

Mr. Heywood chuckled. "Sorry, I haven't been to the grocery store lately. There's some change on the counter. Grab that and go down to the vending machine."

I opened my mouth to refuse, but Mr. Heywood's look gave me the impression that I wasn't allowed to say no. I turned on my heel went to the counter, swiping the change off of it and clenching it in my hand.

"I'll be back then..."

Lance grunted in reply and I couldn't help an amused smile from slipping onto my face.

I exited into the apartment hallway and headed left. It took me a moment to realize I didn't even know where vending machines here, let alone where they were. I hesitated before continuing down the hallway.

What kind of fancy apartment was this to have vending machines? I furrowed my brow, but continued until I made it to the stairwell. There weren't any vending machines in sight. I frowned, and went down to the first floor.

There were three doors now. I peeked through one, which seemed to lead to the parking lot. The other lead to another hallway, and the last led to a room with the vending machines in it.

I went in and made a beeline straight for the machine. I popped in the coins and pressed the button for a coke. It dropped down, and I bent down to pick it up, immediately pressing it to my sore cheek.

I let out a sigh of pleasure. Oh the wonders cold drinks could do for wounds.

Suddenly, there was a pair of hands on my shoulders. I jumped, letting out a strangled cry, and knocking my can of soda against my cheek, making me hiss in pain. I struggled to get free of however had a grip on my shoulders.

When they finally let go I turned to see a very tall, young man with messy blonde hair grinning at me. I stared at him curiously for a moment. Why did he look so familiar?

"Holly? You remember me?"

"Umm..." I hesitated.

The blonde frowned in mock disappointment. "I'm slightly offended that you don't remember me..."

I bit my lip, quickly thinking. Who was this man? I know I had met him before, but I couldn't remember where. But he wasn't an enemy... maybe one of Mr. Heywood's friends...

"Jeremy!" I said suddenly as the name popped into my head.

Jeremy's expression brightened, and he nodded, a grin back on his face. "You do remember me!"

"Yep," I responded, smiling slightly.

"Are you going back to Chris's apartment?" Jeremy asked me, surveying me with his eyes.

I looked away from his gaze and nodded.

"Me too! I'll accompany you!"

I nodded, and together we set off back to the stairwell and towards Mr. Heywood's apartment.

"So... how are you?" I asked, trying to be polite.

"I'm great! I'd ask you how you are, but it looks like you're a little down for the count."

I chuckled. "You could say that..."

We started climbing the stairs to the second floor. Jeremy held open the door that led to the hallway for me. I nodded in thanks.

Jeremy studied me seriously. "Were you attacked?"

I nodded.

"Where's Chris?"

"Back in his apartment with Lance."

"Lance?" Jeremy repeated.

I took a deep breath. "Long story-"

I was interrupted by a loud crash from down hallway. Jeremy and I exchanged startled looks. Muffled yelling could be heard now, and I sprinted the last steps to Mr. Heywood's apartment.

I burst through the door, surveying the place quickly.

I caught sight of Lance and Mr. Heywood just in time to see Lance punch Mr. Heywood in the face. I gasped, running towards Lance.

"You stupid bastard!" Lance shouted, bringing back his fist again

Mr. Heywood stood there, making no indication that he was hurt, and also not even attempting to protect himself.

"Lance!" I cried, attempting to stop Lance from punching Mr. Heywood. "Lance!"

Lance ripped his arm from my grasp roughly, making me fall forwards. Mr. Heywood put out his arm to steady me. Lance attempted to shove Mr. Heywood's arm away and steady me instead, but only managed to knock his hand into my bad cheek.

I groaned in pain, falling over the two of them anyways. Mr. Heywood managed to stop me from falling completely. He effortlessly placed me upright on my feet again. I rubbed my lip gently, glaring at Lance. He looked back at me guiltily.

"Holly, I'm sorr-"

"What are you doing?" I demanded. "You can't punch a teacher, Lance!"

"Holly, it's okay," Mr. Heywood cut in. "I deserved it."

I twirled around, staring at him in shock. "How did you deserve it?"

"For making you involved with those gangsters!" Lance responded, glaring angrily at Mr. Heywood. "I didn't know they were after you precisely, let alone that it was this asshole's fault!"

"Lance," I reprimanded sharply. "Watch your mouth. And it's not completely his fault!"

Mr. Heywood sighed, shaking his head. My heart was pounding so hard I swore people ten miles away could hear it. My hands shook, and my breaths came short, quick and quivering.

"You could get her killed!" Lance accused, crossing his arms.

"I know the consequences well, Mr. Greyson," Mr. Heywood snapped, returning the glare.

"It's not his fault!" I repeated, turning to glare at Lance. "I'm the one that followed him the night at the fair!"

Lance's eyes widened slightly. "The fair?"

I quickly shut my mouth, blushing. That was right. I hadn't told Lance about that incident!

"What do you mean, Holly?" he demanded.

"I got Holly caught up in a fight," Mr. Heywood told him before I could think of any excuses.

I opened my mouth to protest, but Lance pushed me out of the way, after Mr. Heywood again. I stumbled backwards, and a different pair of arms steadied me this time. I turned to see Jeremy frowning at the pair in front of him with a sober face.

I turned to them as well now. Mr. Heywood had Lance's arms locked behind his back. Lance scowled and tried to pull himself free, but it was to no avail.

"You need to calm down," Mr. Heywood ordered.

"Like hell I'll calm down! You put Holly in danger!"

"I put myself in danger!" I told him exasperated. "Don't listen to Mr. Heywood! He's lying!"

"Holly," Mr. Heywood said sharply.

"Just stop fighting," I begged, my eye beginning to water. "Please..."

Mr. Heywood's gaze softened and he released Lance, whose expression had softened as well.

"I want to go home," I told the pair.

"I'll bring you," Mr. Heywood offered immediately. "It's too late to walk."

I shook my head. "No."

Mr. Heywood looked at me in surprise. "I'm not letting you go myself."

"I'll go with her," Lance interjected, scowling at Mr. Heywood.

I shook my head again. "I don't want to go with you either, Lance."

Lance's expression now matched Mr. Heywood's again.

"You're not going alone," the both warned together.

"Oi," Jeremy cut in. "I'll take her."

Mr. Heywood's attention snapped to the man behind me. "When did you get here?"

"Who's he?" Lance demanded.

I groaned, holding my head. "Enough questions! I want to go home."

Jeremy put a hand on my shoulder. "Trust me, I'll get her home safely."

Mr. Heywood narrowed his eyes slightly. "You better."

Jeremy chuckled. "Unlike you, I'm not interested in high school girls."

I glanced at Mr. Heywood, who stared at Jeremy, looking stunned. Jeremy smirked, and I couldn't help a small smirk slipping onto my lips as well. It was impossible Mr. Heywood felt that way, but it was still amusing to see that expression on his face.