The Black Coats(21)

Thea had heard nothing about Cabby Baptist in the months that followed, but every time she saw a white truck, her heart seemed to stop. She hadn’t told her parents because she knew they couldn’t handle the stress of it. They were already hanging by a thread emotionally, and the last thing she wanted was for them to worry more about her. She was cocooned in a shell of her own fear, Xanax her only friend.

Now, back in her bed, she turned over and protectively clutched her arms across her chest, repeating the words to herself: “It was not his truck. It was not his truck.”

Instead of thinking about it, she chose to focus on the strength she had felt today, the burning power that permeated the air at Mademoiselle Corday. She felt her breathing return to normal and her hazel eyes popped open. She wouldn’t be afraid anymore. No, it was Cabby Baptist who should be afraid. The day she earned her inheritance, she would gather Team Banner—messy as they were right now—and take back what Cabby Baptist had taken from her. She would destroy him.





Nine


The next day, after her last class concluded, Thea made her way through the Roosevelt High cafeteria. Her hands clutched nervously as she approached Mirabelle Watts and her groupies, girls who loved to throw barbs at anyone who dared walk past their table. No one really walked there. Except Thea. Right now. She approached the table. Mirabelle was talking to Jacinda Norton, her hands fluttering wildly around her.

Thea pulled her backpack up onto her shoulder. “Mirabelle, I need to talk to you.”

Mirabelle narrowed her ice-blue eyes. “I’m busy. Come back never.” She waved her hand dismissively.

She is so ridiculous. Annoyance at Mirabelle’s airs lit a fire in her stomach and Thea decided to project her voice. “Okay, but it’s about the Historical Society for the Restoration of Victorian Houses.”

Jacinda looked from Mirabelle to Thea and back again. “What the hell is she talking about?”

“Nothing. She’s crazy! I’ll be right back.” Mirabelle leaped from her table, hissing “Shut up!” in Thea’s ear.

Do. Not. Punch, Thea thought.

Mirabelle marched Thea out of the cafeteria and into an empty stairwell. After checking the area for any stray students, she wheeled on her teammate, grabbing her arm. “What are you doing? You can’t talk about that out there!”

Thea raised her hand and carefully brushed Mirabelle’s silver-gelled nails off her arm. “I know. But how else could I get you to leave your stimulating conversation?”

“As if I care what you think of me.”

“Of course not. But who cares what anyone thinks here?” Thea gestured around her, where posters of motivational quotes covered with occasional graffiti decorated the walls of the hallway. “Aren’t you tired of here? Of that? Of gossip and being mean?” Thea dropped her voice to a whisper. “The Black Coats offer you so much more than this! Why wouldn’t you want to be a part of that?”

Mirabelle shrugged before sitting down on one of the steps with a pout. “I don’t know. The team doesn’t seem like it needs me.” She paused. “Or even likes me, for that matter.”

We don’t, thought Thea meanly, but instead she sat down beside her. “Nixon picked you for a reason. Don’t you want to do something exciting? Do something that matters? Mirabelle . . .” Thea looked into her eyes. “What happened to you that made you angry like this?”

Mirabelle blinked, the sunlight casting a rusty glare on her lovely face. Beneath the perfect veneer, Thea saw a glimmer of pain and felt a surprising rush of compassion. She was right—there was a reason Mirabelle was in the Black Coats.

Mirabelle wouldn’t meet her gaze. “Did you know that my parents aren’t actually my parents?” Her truth echoed painfully in the stairwell. Thea didn’t know what to say as Mirabelle curled in, her arms clenched around her stomach.

“I was six when they died in a car accident on Highway Thirty-Five. They were coming back from furniture shopping. They were really into antiques, and there’s a dealer way out of town. They bought a hutch. It was in the back of their truck.” She paused. Thea’s heart seemed to slow in her chest, her agony recognizing another’s. Grief calling to deep grief. “Marc Mitzi was his name, and he was very drunk. Two prior DUIs and let out on technicalities. He was so drunk that the accident report says he didn’t even know what happened. Thought he hit a deer.” Tears rolled down her face, carving rivers of black mascara through her contoured cheeks. “It wasn’t a deer. It was a hutch, shoved through the front seat.”

Thea shuddered and reached out for Mirabelle’s shoulder. “Don’t touch me!” she snapped. “I don’t need your pity.” Thea pulled her hand back, Mirabelle’s anger burning like a flame. “I’ve been raised by my aunt and uncle. They’re nice people, and they’ve given me every single thing I’ve ever wanted. But they aren’t my parents. They don’t love like parents.”

Thea felt shame. She had always assumed that Mirabelle’s mother and father, real estate agents whose glistening smiles graced bus stops and billboards, were her real parents. It was staggering just how little she really knew about her fellow students.

Mirabelle sniffed. “The worst thing is that I was just old enough to remember what my parents were like. I may not remember their faces that clearly, but I remember the love, the feeling of being safe. I remember being part of a real family.”