The Black Coats(57)

There was no answer, and when she tried texting back, her phone replied that the number was no longer valid.

When she pulled up in front of her house, she was no closer to understanding what she had witnessed in that dark living room or whatever the hell Nixon meant with these numbers. She shook her head as she climbed up the tree to her window, whispering to herself, “You’re crazy. You’re thinking crazy.”

Was she? Once she was in her bedroom, Thea shed her clothes and curled up onto her bed. Her mind kept returning to the same question: Would Drew lie to me? Maybe. Or maybe she thought that because she constantly lied to him.

Sleep wouldn’t be coming, she knew that, but she turned out the light anyway and was left alone with her swirling questions. Why would the Black Coats be interested in Drew? Or was it his father? Had they hurt someone? Was that Team Emperor that she had heard there? Why was Nixon with them?

What did 481542 mean?

And finally, what the hell was M-One?





Twenty-One


Everything is normal. She repeated the phrase to herself the entire drive to Roosevelt High the next morning, the cement behemoth simmering in the sun. Thea managed to avoid Drew most of the morning but he found her at lunch, this time sitting in the busy cafeteria.

“Hey!” He set his bag on the table before kissing her on the forehead. Thea stiffened. “I’ve been looking for you all morning.”

“Hmm . . .” Thea chewed. “I’ve been busy.”

Drew turned his head. “Are you okay?” He reached for her hand, his eyes suddenly petrified. “Are you feeling uncomfortable about last night? I know that got intense pretty fast, but we can absolutely slow things down in the physical department if you want to.”

“No.” Thea forced herself to meet his eyes, his perfect olive eyes. “It’s not that. I promise. I have no regrets.” How easy it was to let Drew’s lightness of being wash all over her. Thea pulled her hand away. “But have you ever done anything you regretted?”

Drew’s eyes narrowed before he shook the moment off and reached for her. “Yes. I mean, I wasted years not knowing you. And I maybe wasn’t the best boyfriend to some of my exes. I could have been kinder, I suppose.” He blew out a breath. “Anyway, do you have plans after school today?”

She nodded, but her mind was elsewhere: she was remembering Nixon’s face when she had seen Thea—utter disbelief mixed with guilt. Nixon hadn’t been in control of that moment. Thea stared at her boyfriend, her brain reeling. Who are you, Drew Porter? If only there was . . .

She sat up in her chair.

Oh my God. A record. The records room. Thea blinked.

I was just looking at your file. Julie Westing had said those words that day in the hallway. It was right after Thea had seen her locking the door behind her, when she had heard the buzz as the door sealed shut. It was the only electronic lock that she had ever seen at Mademoiselle Corday; the rest were opened with old-fashioned keys.

And that one, the records room, had a numerical code.

The numbers Nixon sent.

But why? Why would she want Thea to go into that room when she could go into the room herself? Unless she couldn’t.

Everything Drew was saying faded into the background as Thea’s mind quickly weighed her options. She wouldn’t be able to do this alone. She looked across the cafeteria to where Mirabelle was sitting before leaping to her feet. “Drew, I have to go.” She stood so fast her knees knocked the top of the table.

“Thea, what—I just sat down. We are literally in the middle of a conversation. Where are you going?”

“I’m sorry, Drew, I’m not feeling well; I just need to go.”

“Thea! Did I say something? Thea, talk to me!”

She ignored his pleas as she made her way through the sticky cafeteria to the Core, where Mirabelle held court with two other girls. The queen bee stood when she saw Thea, dismissing her minions with a wave of her hand. “I’ll see you guys at debate. Hey, what’s up?”

Thea bent over to whisper in Mirabelle’s ear. “I need you to help me break into the records room at Mademoiselle Corday after training today.”

Mirabelle grinned; there was a happiness in her that hadn’t been there the day before. “I’m so in.”

“You didn’t even ask why.”

“Oh. Why?”

“I’ll tell you on the way there.” Mirabelle looked sadly at the ancient clock that ticked above the lunch line.

“We still have three more hours of class,” she whined, but Thea was already walking away from her, forming a plan in her mind.

On their drive to Mademoiselle Corday, Thea told Mirabelle everything about the night before. It was a secret she couldn’t keep, couldn’t understand. Afterward, Mirabelle leaned back in her seat, her blue eyes flashing with mischief. “So you spent the night at Drew’s house?” She clicked her tongue. “Naughty Thea.”

Thea leaned forward. “That’s what you took away from that?”

Mirabelle grinned. “Sorry. I mean Drew’s worth it, right? Doing this?”

Thea nodded. “Yeah. He is.”

“Wow.” Mirabelle was silent for a second, before her face twisted up like she’d licked a lemon. “Well, I hope for your sake he’s not a serial killer. What’s the plan?”