“What do you mean,no?” I demand. “She needs to get home.”
“Not in my car.” The driver turns and looks out the front window, tightening his grip on the wheel.
“Are you serious?” I say, struggling to keep my voice down. “I’m going with her.”
“Come on, man,” Liam says, and begins trying to level with him, speaking fluent white-guy Spanish. I close my eyes, embarrassed. Judging by the man’s reaction, this was definitely the wrong move.
When it’s clear the driver won’t budge, Liam pulls out his wallet and offers the man a hundred-dollar bill.
The driver looks at the hundred, then back at us. “No.”
“I don’t want to go,” Zee says, trying to stand.
“What part ofnodo you not understand?” The driver is speaking loudly now, growing frustrated. “—muy borracha.”
Just then, I see Professor DuPont and his fiancée, Sara, leaving the front door of the building. They’re walking in our direction.
Zee lifts her head, squinting into the dark before shaking her head and mumbling something I can’t understand.
“Close the door,” the driver says, and then, when we don’t respond. “Did you hear? I said,Close the door.”
Zee stumbles back, pointing at DuPont and yelling, but it’s hard to understand her; it’s a jumble of slurred words.
The driver gestures wildly, yelling over Zee about drunk girls and how this is his livelihood. “You have five seconds before I drive away,” he shouts.
“Relax, man,” Liam says. “We’re going.”
“That’s it!” The driver releases his foot from the brake, and the car jerks forward. The door hits us, throwing us onto the sidewalk as he zooms away, tires screeching.
I turn to DuPont apologetically. As much as I dislike the man, I don’t want any professors seeing Zee like this. “I’m sorry, we’re trying to get her home,” I explain, but before I can stop her, Zee stumbles into them, grabbing onto Sara’s arm to steady herself. Sara lurches back, panicked, as if she were being attacked by a pit bull, trying to loosen herself from Zee’s grasp.
DuPont grabs Zee, tearing her away forcefully.
“Hey, get off her! What are you doing?” I scream, catching Zee as she stumbles back onto the sidewalk, trying to stop her from falling headfirst into the street.
A police siren sounds out of the dark. Every inch of my skin tenses as two white police officers park their car next to us and get out of the vehicle, hands on their guns. “Is there a problem here?”
“No,” I say quickly, clasping onto Zee, trying to get her to her feet. “We’re fine.”
I tug on her elbow, hard.
She looks up. “Ow.” And when she sees the police officers, her face falls.
The first officer, a stocky man with a thick neck, turns to DuPont. “Everything okay here, sir?”
DuPont brushes off his suit. “Yes, thank you. We were just leaving an event.”
The cop looks at Sara. “I want to make sure these folks aren’t bothering you.”
Sara smiles. “Thank you, Officer. We’re okay now.” She shoots us a fearful look and reaches for her fiancé’s arm. “Let’s go home.”
DuPont looks at me, then back at Liam and Zee, before walking away. As they disappear down the sidewalk, Sara looks over her shoulder at me, her eyes trailing down my dress, untrusting, suspicious. I can’t believe DuPont is just walking away from this situation like that—we’re still his students.
The bigger cop looks at his partner, and I expect them to get back in their car, but instead he turns back to Zee, who’s hunched over my arm, trying to keep herself from throwing up. He gestures to her. “Ma’am, please come here.”
My back straightens, and I tighten my grip around her protectively. If Zee pukes right now, who knows how these cops would react. “She’s fine,” I tell him.
“That wasn’t a question.”
