The Black Coats(47)
“Natalie?” Mirabelle turned to her with haunted eyes.
Thea nodded. “With Natalie.” Mirabelle pressed her forehead against Thea’s, their grief uniting them.
“Why do other people think they can take our people away from us?” Mirabelle sniffed.
Thea closed her eyes, willing the tears away. Tonight was Mirabelle’s night to cry, not hers. “I don’t know,” she whispered. “But it’s not fair. We’ll make it right, okay?”
Mirabelle nodded. “Okay.” She stepped back from Thea, wiping her eyes. “Thanks for letting me stay.” She looked at the bed. “Also, do you have any fresh sheets? Because gross.”
Thea let out a relieved sigh. “Good to have you back, Mirabelle.”
Mirabelle glanced at Thea’s one-eyed teddy bear. “I mean, it’s not the Ritz, but I’ll make do.” After Thea had turned out the light, Mirabelle fell asleep within minutes, exhausted by her emotions. Her mouth was halfway open, and she snorted with soft snores, one arm clutched around the teddy bear that had once been Natalie’s.
Thea lay awake on the floor, watching the shadows glide across the ceiling as cars passed on the street. An inheritance. Why would they give Mirabelle hers so early? There was no explanation, except one that only the luminaries understood. She turned over, cracking her neck and wincing at the pain of the floor pushing up against her hip as her friend breathed comfortably above. There was, however, a strange reassurance in Mirabelle’s snores. Thea had forgotten how oddly comforting a sleepover could be—that feeling of not being alone in the world. If only Natalie could see her now, lying on the floor with freaking Mirabelle Watts in her bed, she would die laughing. She had died. Thea watched Mirabelle for a minute before turning over. They have taken so much from us, she thought, and we will take it all back. She settled down into her sleeping bag. Our vengeance is finally beginning.
She had almost surrendered to sleep when her phone buzzed underneath her pillow.
“Turn it off!” grumbled Mirabelle, rolling over with a huff. Thea ignored her and let the light of the phone wash over her face. It was a text from Nixon:
I am saddened to share that this week one of our founding luminaries, Robin Peterson, surrendered to the breast cancer that she bravely fought for years. All teams must be at Mademoiselle Corday promptly by 10:00 a.m. tomorrow to attend the funeral.
“Oh no.” Thea let her head sink back against the pillow, sad for the woman with whom she had spoken so briefly at the Team Banner celebration. Robin had seemed wise and strong, the kind of person who wore her trauma with grace. Thea turned over. What does this mean for the Black Coats? What does this mean for Sahil? After another half hour of tossing and turning, Thea finally was taken by sleep, where hazy dreams of long roads and black soil tore violently at her subconscious.
Early the next morning, after sending Mirabelle home to change, Thea pushed open the door to her closet and reached for the dress that she had sworn she would never wear again: a simple black cotton dress with lace cap sleeves. Thea shuddered as she pulled it out of the closet, remembering the last time she had worn this dress, the way it had pressed against her throat as she watched her dad struggle with Natalie’s coffin. Unfortunately, it was her only option with this short notice; she couldn’t very well show up in a cheery yellow dress or jeans and a blouse. No. It had to be this dress. Thea pulled it over her head, noting the sour smell at the armpits, wincing as it fell over her hips. Don’t think about it. Over the dress she threw on her black coat, twisted her messy curls into a loose side bun, and dashed on mascara before heading downstairs. Her mom was in the kitchen, humming a quiet song while she fixed eggs for Thea’s father.
“Hey! Is your friend here? I hope she likes . . .” Menah stopped when she saw Thea in her dress and coat. Her eyes narrowed. “Why are you wearing that?”
Shit. I should have snuck out and left a note, she thought, too late. Now there was going to be a conversation.
“Umm, well, my friend’s mom died from breast cancer. She asked me to come to the funeral.”
Her dad dropped his book on the table. “Oh, Thea, that’s horrible! Who was it?”
Thea shook her head. “You don’t know her. She’s in the restoration society with me.” So far, no outright lies. This is good.
“What is her name?” he asked with concern.
Thea swallowed, saying the first name that came to mind. “Bea.”
“Oh, honey!” Her mom wrapped her arms around Thea in a stifling hug. “I’m sorry, honey. I’ll be honest, I was looking forward to seeing you this morning, but this is more important.” She pulled back to look at Thea’s face. “It might be hard to go to another funeral. Do you want to borrow one of my dresses?”
It was tempting, but Thea eyed the clock above the stove. She was already cutting it close. Sometimes she swore lateness was in her DNA. “No, I’m okay. Really.” Her dad was staring at her with sad eyes, no doubt thinking of Natalie. Thea berated herself. This was too much for them. God, why did I wear this stupid dress? “I have to go.” Thea grabbed her purse from the counter and gave her mom a quick kiss. “I don’t know how long I’ll be.”
“Thea.” Her dad’s strict voice filled the kitchen. It wasn’t a sound she heard often. “We haven’t seen much of you lately, and I don’t like it. I think it’s great you are going to support your friend this morning, but tonight you will be here for dinner, and then you are hanging out with your two lame parents, watching a movie of their choosing. This is not a request.”