An abundant arrangement of food was set out before me when I walked into the kitchen about an hour later. I gaped at the tempting buffet in astonishment. Mr. Heywood’s smug face greeted me when I finally looked up from the food.

            “Why did you make so much?” I inquired, gesturing towards the wide arrangement of food.

            “I don’t know what you like, so I just made a bit of everything,” Mr. Heywood responded with a casual shrug.

            “A bit?” I choked, looking at the enormous stacks of French toast and pancakes.

            “Does it not look appetizing?”

            “No, that’s not it!” I uttered quickly. “It’s just… I thought you couldn’t cook.”

            Mr. Heywood chuckled, putting a hand on my shoulder and steering me to the table. He pushed me down on one of the wooden chairs and proceeded to take the seat across from me. “I lied.”

I opened my mouth to retort, but he cut me off. “Well let’s not waste it, shall we?” he asked, reaching for a large bowl of scrambled eggs.

            I nodded meekly, biting back my retort, still in shock by the enormous amount of food he had made in just under an hour. The French toast was calling my name, so I took two pieces, setting them on my plate. I drizzled some maple syrup on it and used a knife to cut off a small piece. Cautiously, I put it up to my mouth, hesitating for a moment. Mr. Heywood was staring at me so I abruptly shut my mouth, feeling a blush coming on my face. He frowned.

            “Are you afraid to try it?” he asked.

            I shook my head. “No… I’m just not comfortable eating while people are staring at me.”

            Mr. Heywood smirked. “I see.”

            He put his elbow on the table and rested his chin on his hand, gazing at me more intensely than before. I glowered at him. He was doing it on purpose. I wanted to slap that stupid, sexy, smirk right off his face. Wait? Sexy? I mentally slapped myself. I couldn’t be having those thoughts. Especially after I had spent the night in the same bad as him. It was wrong. How many times did I have to tell myself that? Maybe you should just accept it, a thoughtful voice commented in my head.

            Mr. Heywood’s phone suddenly went off. I knew his ring tone by heart now. I took the time that he looked away from me to stuff a piece of French toast in my mouth. It felt like I had just taken a bite of heaven. I chewed slowly and swallowed, trying to savor the taste. Mr. Heywood was still looking at his phone so I quickly shoved a few more pieces into my mouth.

            When he looked back up, I was in the middle of chewing all the pieces that were in my mouth. My cheeks were blown out just like a squirrel’s were when it had nuts in its mouth. Mr. Heywood snorted, trying to keep his face straight. My face flushed in embarrassment and I quickly tried to swallow the rest of the French toast without chewing. I managed to get half down before choking. Heaving, I covered my mouth with my hand, my embarrassment continuing to grow as I choked.

            Mr. Heywood was in all out laughter now. I continued to hack into my hand until my throat was cleared. Before I swallowed the rest of food in my mouth, I chewed it slowly and thoroughly. Mr. Heywood was still laughing. I glared at him.  “It’s not that funny,” I told him, my cheeks flaming.

            “Yes, it is,” Mr. Heywood responded, shaking his head, trying not to laugh. “But I’m glad you like it so much.”

            “It’s really good,” I admitted, looking down at my plate.

            “Well eat some other things too,” Mr. Heywood enjoined, waving his arm over the food. “I suggest trying the home fries. They are my specialty.”

            I opened my mouth to say something in return when Mr. Heywood’s phone went off again. He scowled and I shut my mouth quickly as he opened it.

            “These girls just don’t leave me alone,” he muttered, tapping away at his phone.

            “Who?” I asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

            “Some girls from you class,” he told me with a sigh. “I gave them my phone number because they thought they were going to have trouble with their science homework. I told them they could text me if they had any questions, but they’ve been texting me about other things.”

            I felt a pang of jealously in my gut, and it surprised me. Was I jealous just because those girls had Mr. Heywood’s phone number while I didn’t? That was so shallow! I wanted to grab something hard and repeatedly strike my head with it. “Um, why don’t you tell them to stop texting you?” I suggested, shoving aside my jealousy.

            Mr. Heywood shook his head. “I’m not the mean teacher, remember?”

            “But that’s not being mean!’ I responded quickly. “I mean you are a teacher and they are students. They shouldn’t be texting you in the first place. I don’t understand why you’d give them a personal number. Why not like an e-mail or something?” I knew I was babbling so I quickly shut myself up, grabbing a glass of juice in front of me and putting it up to my lips before I could say anything more.

            Mr. Heywood chuckled slightly. “Are you jealous?”

            I coughed out my drink. The juice dribbled down my chin as I stared at Mr. Heywood’s complacent face. Just as I opened my mouth to deny his accusation, a loud pounding from the door sounded abruptly. I jumped, slopping the juice over my shirt. An annoyed groan left my lips, and I peeled away the wet cloth from my skin. Mr. Heywood snickered and stood up, walking out of the kitchen to answer the door. I looked around for a napkin and when I spotted one, I grabbed it and began to spot my wet shirt.

            Muffled voices came from the living room as I picked up a home fry with my fork. As I expected, it tasted excellent. Mr. Heywood was a really good cook. I popped a few more in my mouth and chewed them slowly, trying to make out the voices in the other room. When I heard footsteps returning to the kitchen, I turned in my chair. Mr. Heywood came in with another man behind him.

            I gawked at the man behind Mr. Heywood for a moment. He had messy, blonde hair and bright green eyes. He was exactly Mr. Heywood’s height, and had almost the same build— except this guy was a little more buff. To my ongoing amazement, he looked like he was only about eighteen years old!

            When our gazes met, his jaw dropped. His eyes looked like they were about to pop out of his head. “Holy shit,” he uttered, turning to look at Mr. Heywood. “Holy shit, Chris.”

            “Shut up,” Mr. Heywood hissed, jamming his elbow into his friend’s side.

            “Look at her,” the blonde murmured, staring intently at me. “Hey.”

It took me a minute to realize he was speaking to me. “Hi,” I responded in a quiet voice, his intimidating look getting the best of me.

            The blonde man chuckled, nudging Mr. Heywood in the side. “What did you do to her?”

            “Nothing,” Mr. Heywood responded, sounding annoyed with the man. “Why did you follow me into my kitchen?”

            “Because I have something to tell this pretty little lady,” the blonde one informed Mr. Heywood.

            “How could you possibly have something to tell her if you’ve never met her?” Mr. Heywood responded with a sigh.

            The blonde man came over to me and squatted down to my sitting height. He grinned at me and I returned with my own small, sheepish smile. He held out his hand and I took it. He squeezed my hand hard, nearly crushing me. “My name’s Jeremy,” he apprised me. “You’re Holly, right? Interesting name.” He shot a secretive smile at Mr. Heywood that I didn’t understand. Mr. Heywood gave Jeremy a flat look.

            “How do you know my name?” I asked curiously.

            Jeremy laughed. “News travels quick.”

            “News?” I shot a look at Mr. Heywood who rolled his eyes and shook his head.

            “Yeah. How you got in a fight with the second in command of our gang,” Jeremy told me, smiling slightly.

            “I didn’t really get in a fight with him…”

            He laughed. “Even so, you’re in a little trouble.”

            “What? Why?” My pulse increased significantly. I was in trouble? What did that mean?

            “Because technically you have opposed the gang,” Jeremy explained. “And also because you were tying to help Chris at the scene. That was reported.”

            “That doesn’t have anything to deal with her,” Mr. Heywood cut in. “It’s not like they’ll gang up on her… she’s a girl.”

            Jeremy shook his head. “Times have changed since you left, Chris.”

            “They attack girls now?” Mr. Heywood asked skeptically.

            “Yeah. That asshole Shawn took over now.”

            Mr. Heywood shook his head in disbelief. “Shawn? Are you kidding me? They couldn’t have chosen someone worse.”

            “I know,” Jeremy responded with a nod, “which is why I came to warn little Holly here.”

            “Warn me for what? What are they going to do?” My eyes were wide as I stared at the pair of men before me.

            “Well they might target you,” Jeremy enlightened me. “Either as bait to lure Chris somewhere since they still have hard feelings from what happened, or for revenge for getting in a fight with the second in command.”

            “But I didn’t do anything,” I responded, feeling panic beginning to course through me. “Are they going to kill me? Are they going to do what they did to Mr. Heywood? What’s going to happen to me?”

            My hands were shaking now and my eyes were wide as I stared at the pair of men before me. I didn’t know a single thing about gangs! I did know, however, that they could kill people and get away with it. But they wouldn’t kill someone for just getting into a small fight, right? I tried to calm myself, taking deep breaths and letting them out slowly. Nothing was going to happen to me.

            “Look! You’ve got her all worked up now!” Mr. Heywood accused Jeremy, coming over to me, putting a hand on my shoulder, and pressuring it gently.

            “I’m sorry, but it’s better if she knows so she can be more on her guard,” Jeremy responded, frowning at me.

            “Why would they go after her though? It’s not like she’s of any importance,” Mr. Heywood said to Jeremy. “It’s me they are after.”

            “But she was with you back when you were attacked the other night,” Jeremy pointed out. “That can be misleading. For example, they could think you’re rallying people to make your own gang. Or if she was your girlfriend, they could use her for bait. Stuff like that.”

            Mr. Heywood muttered a few curses. “I can’t just have a peaceful life, can I?”

            Jeremy laughed. “That’s what you get after what you did.”

            “What did you do?” I asked Mr. Heywood, calmed down now.

            “I told you,” he responded smoothly.

            I frowned at him. “No… you just told me why you joined. Not anything that happened or why you left.”

            “Well it doesn’t matter,” he replied quickly. “Eat more food.”

            I frowned and put some scrambled eggs and bacon on my plate. Jeremy and Mr. Heywood went into the other room to talk in private. Scowling, I shoved the eggs into my mouth. My scowl faded into a small smile at the taste. How could I be angry with this delicious food in front of me?

            But the food didn’t change that now I was involved with some kind of gang. And I didn’t know how dangerous it was going to be.

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