A group of onlookers pause and watch as our drama-filled scene unfolds. A few look like they want to intervene, but none are that stupid. They would be sealing their own death if they approached me now. “I feel sick,” Scarlette suddenly says, hugging her tiny waist. “No, my head hurts,” she adds.
Huffing, I exhale a deep breath and then lean down, grabbing Scarlette and hoisting her over my shoulders. She lets out a squeal as she hangs over my shoulder. I begin heading toward the front door, shoving people out of my way and knocking over those who aren’t lucky enough to move before I get to them.
Scarlette pounds her tiny fists against my back, but I barely feel her hitting me. Macy follows along behind us, but I don’t bother listening to what she is yelling at us. Once I reach the front door, I am welcomed by the cool night air. Moving to the front lawn, I pass a group of students smoking and drinking. None say anything as I storm past them toward my car. Once I reach the sidewalk, I pull my keys out of my pocket and unlock the doors to my vehicle. I place Scarlette down onto the sidewalk and she sways, causing me to hold her up as I fumble with the keys.
“Where are you going with her? She needs to get home,” Macy shrieks.
I’m sure she is thinking the worst as I am basically kidnapping her best friend. Though, the irony of the situation isn’t lost on me. I may be the most dangerous person in this house, but yet, I’m the one trying to save Scarlette. Being drunk and innocent puts her at risk. Every guy at this party would love to be the one to deflower the sweet girl and then brag about it at school next week. The music still thumped and people were still partying while I struggled to get Scarlette into my car.
Facing Macy, I threw open my back passenger door and began to push Scarlette inside. Her tiny frame tried to put up a fight, but it was no use. She was too far gone to fight back right now.
“I’m taking her home. She isn’t safe here and you should know that,” I spat out.
Macy looked insulted as she stared back at me. “She’s my best friend, of course, she is safe with me,” she cried out. “Besides, you don’t know where she lives,” she yelled.
Scarlette fell across my seats and mumbled something as I slammed the door closed. Macy stood on the sidewalk, the glow of the moonlight illuminating off her angry and terrified face.
Opening the driver's side door, I went to sit down, but not before saying one last thing to Macy. “Don’t worry about anything. I have my ways of knowing things,” I grunted, before shutting the door in her stunned face. Tearing away from the curb, my tires squealed as my own music began to pump through the speakers. Speeding through Savannah, I kept glancing in my rearview mirror. Scarlette’s form lay sprawled across my backseat. I knew that I would have to explain to Scarlette when she sobered up how I knew her address, but I would have to worry about that later. Right now, I needed to get her home and in bed before she puked all over my leather seats.