The Black Coats(18)

Nixon jerked to her feet, her eyes darting from side to side. She looked over at Bea with wonder and pride. “Well done, Bea,” she muttered, wiping a droplet of blood from the corner of her mouth. “Well done, Thea and Team Banner.”

There was only silence in the room. Sahil’s face was a mix of delight and disbelief.

“Holy shit,” said Mirabelle.

Nixon clapped her hands. “Again!”

After several more tries—some successful, some not—Nixon finally gave them a break. Thea’s legs were shaking, and she was dripping with sweat, but at least she wasn’t alone. The entire team limped toward one of the low tables and collapsed on the long oak benches that flanked them. Finally, they had earned their reward. The croissants were devoured. The pretense that all high school girls ate daintily was sucked down like the clouds of pastry they were shoving into their mouths. Only Mirabelle turned her pert nose away. “Is that real butter on those? I don’t eat dairy,” she griped.

Thea chewed on the huge piece in her mouth. “Your loss,” she muttered.

Casey raised her dark eyebrows at Mirabelle. “Are you actually allergic, or is that just the new trend for cheerleaders in Texas?”

Mirabelle scowled. “Why would you assume I’m a cheerleader?”

“A lucky guess.” Casey snorted.

“Well, I’m not. I’m actually the captain of the debate team. Maybe I should guess some things about you, too.” Mirabelle tossed her hair out of her eyes and turned her voice into a pitying whine. “I’m guessing you paint your nails black, just love the Cure, and are biding your time until you can go to Sarah Lawrence.”

Casey shoved back the bench, rocking Louise and Thea as she went. “You don’t know anything about me.” Slowly, she raised her middle finger in Mirabelle’s direction, nails painted hot pink, then stalked angrily to a table across the room.

Thea turned to Bea, who was doing her best to disappear into the wall behind the bench. “We have to ask about it, you know. You can hypnotize people?”

Bea played absentmindedly with her locket. “Yes. If they are willing. Nixon could have very well punched me in the face, but she chose to surrender; she wanted you guys to see what I could do.”

Thea wiped away the bead of sweat making its way down her hairline and grinned. “It’s like you have a superpower! Where did you even come from?”

Mirabelle groaned, obviously eavesdropping. “It’s not magic, sycophants. It’s carnival nonsense is what it is.”

Bea wearily shook her head. “It’s actually neither of those things. Hypnosis is a trancelike state, when people have heightened focus. It’s science and psychology, nothing else. When people are desperate, they are very open to suggestion.”

Thea rolled her hands up her cool mason jar of water. “You pulled your hand back and she fell. Was that part of it?”

Bea smiled. “That’s my favorite part. It’s called the shock. It’s a way of hurtling someone forward into the hypnosis.”

Mirabelle pretended to sneeze. “Ahhh, witchcraft!”

Bea flinched at the word.

Thea looked over at Mirabelle’s impossibly blue eyes. “Well, only one of us was able to get to the waters, and it wasn’t you,” she deadpanned.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Thea leaned forward. “We aren’t at Roosevelt, and you aren’t the queen bee here. You’re just as cool as the rest of us, maybe even less so.” As the words left her mouth, Thea realized that she would probably regret them tomorrow when she saw Mirabelle at school.

Louise looked up from the end of the table, where she was sitting silently, patting her bruises down with bags of ice that Nixon had provided. “Which, as you may have noticed, is not very cool at all. We suck.”

“It’s true. For now.” Nixon was standing over them, wiping the hint of sweat off her face. She pointed to Casey’s table. “Casey, get back over here. You don’t leave your team just because Mirabelle said something insulting.” Nixon turned back to Mirabelle. “And you, you need to watch your words. The ‘face’ is the most expendable member of this team, and so far, you’ve done nothing today to convince me that you belong here.”

Mirabelle bit her lip, and Thea thought she saw a flicker of tears in her eyes before she stood up and stormed out of the Haunt. She slammed the wood door behind her so hard that even Sahil, standing nearby, gritted his teeth.

Thea regarded Nixon. “Should I go after her?”

Nixon seemed unfazed. “Not now.” She whirled on the remaining team members. “The rest of you can head home. That will be all for today—at least, after you do the dishes.”

Casey’s head jerked up from where it was lying on the table across the room. “Dishes?”

Thirty minutes later, most of Team Banner was clustered together in a small area in front of a large silver tub, each of them wearing yellow rubber gloves and scrubbing small, delicate china plates. Thea held up her dish, admiring her work. “This is really not what I pictured when I imagined my life of vigilante justice.” She sighed. “More Batman, less cleaning.”

Bea smiled as she scrubbed. “So, Nixon’s terrifying.”

“And yet, you made her fall asleep with your hand.” Casey shook her head. “That was amazing.” She coughed. “It’s too bad it wouldn’t have worked on Mirabelle.”