Danger in the Streets

Danger in the Alley

We stand outside for at least an hour, talking. I haven't seen the man from the club leave. During a pause in our conversation about how Wisconsin is more than the cheese state, I hear muffled squeals coming from the alleyway between the club and a closed diner.

I glance at Mica. "Did you hear that?"

He shrugs. "It's probably a couple doing who knows what...in an alleyway? Maybe the stench of sewers and trash is arousing for them?"

"Gross, Mica," I say, rolling my eyes. I try to laugh it off, but something's off.

"I'm gonna check it out," I say. "It's probably nothing."

I slowly edge my way to the edge of the club building, peering down the long stretch of cobblestone.  A weak light illuminates the form of a dumpster, and near that...

The same man from inside the club has a girl shoved up against a wall, one hand against her mouth, pushing her head against the wall, and the other up her long skirt. Her hair and neck are covered in some sort of draped headscarf.

I turn around and whisper urgently at Mica, "That guy's hurting an innocent girl down there. I've got to help her, after what he almost did to me."

Mica shakes his head. "No, we need to tell someone! Just wait a minute-" he slides his phone out of his pocket.

I shake my head and tell him no. Kicking my heels off, I turn around and race down the alley. Fear and adrenaline push me forwards, away from Mica, who's shouting my name.

I yank the man away from the girl with some sort of herculean force. "How dare you," I snarl. "Get the hell off her and get out. And find some self respect, too."

The guy stares at me. He begins to open his mouth, probably to insult me further. I  grab the girl's slender arm and kick him where it hurts for good measure.

*  *  *

It's almost midnight by the time I unlock the door to the apartment. The girl I helped hasn't said a word: Not during the taxi ride, not on the elevator, and not when Dariya flings open the door.

"How'd it go? Did you have hot...Who's she?" Dariya's eyes widen in alarm. " Is she a fugitive running from the law? An immigrant? Will we have to hide her in a closet and feed her tomato soup?"

I rush past her astonished face, dragging the silent girl along with me. "I'll explain all of it. Come on."

I plop on the couch. The girl awkwardly stands in the middle of the room. Dariya soon follows us in. She points an angry finger at Scarf Girl.

"If you're here to initiate Vanessa into a cult, I'm gonna stop you with my...pizza cutter! So don't! You ain't messin' with me, you hear?"

"Dariya, back off." I put my head in my hands. I'm so, so tired.

I look up. "Okay, sweetheart, I'm Vanessa, and that nerdy, overexcited girl over there-" "Hey!" "-is Dariya. What's your name?"

The girl says nothing for a moment, then whispers, "Azra." She fingers her maroon and gold flowered headscarf.

I nod. "Azra. Okay. Next, do you have anyone we can contact-"

"What's that scarf thing on your face?" Dariya says loudly.

"Dari!" I hiss.

Suddenly, it's like a mask drops off Azra. "It's not a 'scarf thing', it's a hijab to cover my hair."

My eyes widen. I suddenly realize how beautiful Azra's petite, lithe figure is. Her skin has warm undertones, and her strong eyebrows frame her piercing toffee eyes.

But then the curtain falls back into place, and Azra shuts down again, her eyes angled towards the floor.

"Um...You can sleep in my room. I can sleep on the couch," I offer, pointing towards my room. Azra nods and rushes off, closing my door behind her.

Dariya immediately starts spouting off words. "Are we an orphanage now? Since when do we take in random girls? Why? How do you know we can trust her? Is she human? Will she just suck all our money out from under us, and then leave?"

I close my eyes. "Dariya...Stop."

And I tell her what happened.