The Black Coats(13)
“A black coat, ma’am.”
“That’s right. A black coat, something you will need before being approved for Balancings. And let me be clear: a black coat is something you earn.” Nixon twirled the hanger in front of her. “During the day, when I am not here at Mademoiselle Corday, I am whatever I am in my normal life: a student, a lawyer, a wife . . . whatever.” Nixon shrugged into her coat. It fell over her perfect figure like a glove, cinching at all the right places, flaring at the sides. Thea could see even from a distance that it was meticulously tailored.
“However, when I put this coat on, I am none of those things. The black coat, Mademoiselle Corday, Team Banner—these things transform who we are. When we step through those doors, we become Black Coats, and our purpose is to administer justice. I know that high school can be all-consuming, but when you come to Mademoiselle Corday, you will shed yourself at the door like a snake sheds its skin. When you put on this coat, you are serving the women who deserve justice. They deserve your all; don’t you agree?”
“Yes, ma’am,” breathed Thea, riveted by her speech.
“Good.” Nixon shrugged off the coat and draped it over her chair. “Now, I have much to teach you, but today is going to be your basic introduction and first training session. When you have your first Balancing will depend on when I, your president, think you are ready.” A collective silence fell over the room at this intimidating thought. “Scary, isn’t it? The idea of the Balancings? Well, I promise by the time we get there, you will be chomping at the bit.”
Nixon raised her hands. “Now, you were handpicked by a dozen Black Coat alumni, who sifted and sorted through hundreds of potential recruits. You have been called to a glorious purpose, as your contract stated: Soulevez-vous, femmes de la vengeance.” Nixon smiled, her crimson lips twisting into an unnerving grin. “The French translated means ‘Rise, women of vengeance,’ and rise you will. If you work hard, and you don’t complain or give in to distractions”—Thea’s mind flickered to Drew and she almost flinched—“you will become worthy of this.” Nixon ran her fingers along the collar of her coat.
She cleared her throat. “Now, let’s begin with quick introductions. I want you to state your first name only and what your skills are.” She gestured to a tall blond girl at the back, who stood without being asked.
Thea almost gasped when she saw her stand, and was filled with a wave of horror. It couldn’t be. The girl introduced herself, but Thea didn’t need to hear. She already knew exactly who she was. The girl’s name was Mirabelle Watts, and she was one of the most popular girls at Thea’s school . . . and an all-around bitch to everyone. Mirabelle’s kind drifted through the school on a cloud of untouchable supremacy. Up close she was stunning, with bright blond hair and cornflower-blue eyes, the perfect embodiment of a Texas rose.
Mirabelle put her hand on her hip with an exaggerated frown, her voice dripping with a Southern drawl that wasn’t common for this part of town. “My name is Mirabelle, and I was picked for the Black Coats because of this.” She gestured to her face.
Nixon rolled her eyes. “It’s true, Mirabelle is going to be what we call ‘the face’ on our team. However, she is also very, very strong. We could find a pretty girl anywhere.” Mirabelle sat with a grin, her ponytail bouncing behind her. Underneath the desk, Thea pressed her fingernails into her palm. This had felt like an escape from Roosevelt, and now one of the girls Thea went out of her way to avoid was sitting two chairs behind her. She gritted her teeth. Damn.
Thea was next, and she felt bumbling and gangly next to perfect Maribelle. “My name is Thea, and, um, I was picked for the Black Coats because I’m fast.” She cleared her throat. “I’m a runner. A sprinter.” This was her best guess at why they picked her.
Nixon pointed at her. “Thea exhibited great adaptability and leadership potential, and yes, she’s quite fast.”
There were three more girls on their team. Casey, a girl of Middle Eastern descent with long black hair and heavily made-up eyes, shared that her strengths were driving and computer hacking. Louise, the plain brunette, just happened to have a black belt—quite the surprise. Finally, Nixon turned to the last girl in the group, a curvier girl with frizzy toffee-colored hair, a cute nose, and thick black glasses. Thea could tell just by looking at her that she wasn’t comfortable in her own skin. She fumbled out of the desk looking absolutely mortified, a blush creeping up her cheeks. Nixon did not look amused. Then she adjusted her thick-rimmed glasses and squeaked out, “I’m Bea Hopwood, and I—”
Nixon groaned. “No last names, Bea. And let’s save the introduction to your impressive talents for another time.”
“Oh.” Bea pressed up her glasses, her face falling. “Okay.”
She sat down, and the desk gave a tiny creak. Mirabelle raised her eyebrows laughingly at Casey, who ignored her. Moving faster than Thea thought was possible, Nixon crossed the room and flicked Mirabelle’s lips; she blinked in shock but said nothing. Nixon calmly wiped the pink lip gloss off her finger before turning back to the group. “You will not bully here, Barbie.” Mirabelle looked completely taken aback, and Thea raised her hand to her mouth to cover her smile.
Nixon stalked to the front of the room again. “Moving on. How did each of you get through the door during your initiation? Past Sahil?”