The Black Coats

by Colleen Oakes

  Her mom stood and went over to the sink, violently shoving her plate in. “Do you know what you’re giving up? You are so talented, Thea—”

  Thea cut her off. “I know, we all know—but every single time my sneaker touches that track, all I can remember is running with Natalie. It’s too painful!” Her voice broke. “I know running has helped you grieve, but I need to do something else. Something that can make things better. And this, this will help. Restoring these houses. It will help me forget.”

  “Thea.” Her mom’s voice faded away as steam rose from the sink. She closed her eyes. “Just don’t forget what you can do.”

  Thea sighed as she stood. “I’m more than a runner, Mom. Maybe you’ve forgotten that.”

  She stomped out of the kitchen as her father’s voice boomed out, “Girls, calm down!”

  Thea pounded up the stairs and shut her door, leaning against it with a sigh. She had no right to be mad at her mother, especially when she was lying to them, but her mother’s obvious disappointment made her crazy. Thea would never be the person that she was before Natalie died, but perhaps she could become someone better. Someone powerful.

  A Black Coat.

  Five

  Thea’s morning classes dragged on forever, one long period ticking into the next. Her legs bounced under her desk with restlessness. Mademoiselle Corday was waiting for her, and that made each minute in school seem like agony. Finally, the first half of the day was done and she was able to escape to her depressing yet comforting lunch corner, a small table in a secluded back section of the library surrounded by old math textbooks.

  The discreet corner wasn’t luxurious; the threadbare carpet was torn up under her feet, a half-painted wall sat behind the table, and overhead fluorescent lights flickered sadly. Thea slowly unpacked her lunch from her mother, and to her surprise she found a folded note. She opened it with a little smile; her mother hadn’t left her notes in her lunch in a long time. Her smile faded when she read the words in her mother’s loopy handwriting. I love watching you run. Please reconsider. Underneath that was the drawing of a happy face. Thea crumpled up the note and dropped it on the floor.

  “I hear you can be fined for littering, but littering in a library . . .” The boy named Drew Porter tsked disapprovingly, and Thea jumped.

  She sat up in her chair. “Sorry, you scared me!”

  Drew smiled. “There’s a special place in hell for people who destroy libraries.”

  Thea grinned in spite of herself as she picked up the note. “I wasn’t planning on leaving it there, you know.”

  Drew looked down at her, playfulness lighting up his features. “That’s good, because I don’t want to have to turn you in to the authorities.” He raised an eyebrow and nodded at Ms. Bork, who was humming while she stocked the young-adult book section. As he turned back to watch the librarian, Thea took a moment to really look at him. Dark brown hair in a neat cut framed his face, and his lean body showcased his Roosevelt soccer jersey perfectly, raised triceps filling out the triangles of black and gold. On his chest sat a giant cartoon hornet.

  Thea felt a pang in her heart at the sight of it. The back of her closet was filled with a dozen tracksuits, each emblazoned with that stupid grinning insect. “Pretty strong words coming from a man with a giant bee on his chest.”

  Drew gestured to the hornet. “I call him Little Honey, and he’s pretty good at what he does.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “Reading old sci-fi books. Driving on empty roads.” He was still holding his tray in his hands. “Are you going to invite me to sit down?”

  She shifted. “Uh, sure. Are you positive you want to sit here? Isn’t your team missing you?”

  Drew sat with a yawn. “Probably. But one can only talk about Call of Duty for so long. Besides, why would I want to sit in the beautifully remodeled cafeteria filled with natural light when I can sit back here with you, gazing at the wonder of”—he looked at some of the shelves surrounding them—“Numerical Analysis in Boundary Value Programs.” He burst out laughing, an infectious grin transforming his face. “Really? This is where you eat lunch?”

  Thea couldn’t help but chuckle as well—Drew’s laugh was contagious. “I sit here so I don’t have to answer any dumb questions, like, for example, ‘Why are you sitting here?’”

  Drew spread out his food.

  “Do you just make yourself comfortable wherever?” Thea inquired.

  He took an enormous bite of his cheeseburger. “I try to. What about you, Thea Soloman?”

  Thea shrugged. “I’m not really comfortable anywhere.”

  Drew raised an eyebrow. “Then I think we’re a perfect match.” Thea blushed. He hastily continued, “I didn’t mean it that way. Sorry. It’s just, you make me nervous.”

  Thea almost spit out her apple. “I make you nervous? I don’t even know you, and you just came and found me at my . . .”

  “Soul-curdling lunching spot? I mean, can you blame me for wanting to get to know a girl I first saw jumping into the Bucket with all her clothes on to retrieve a lost schedule? I mean, who wouldn’t want to know more about that person?” He sat back in his chair, looking serious for the first time since she’d met him. “I thought I knew everything there was to know about this stupid school. I just moved here at the beginning of the semester—my senior year; thanks, Dad—and was only looking forward to graduation. But then I saw you climb out of that fountain and something changed in me. I don’t know what it was, but the thought of having the same exhausting conversations with the same people I always eat with was suddenly so depressing. I don’t want to hear any more about how Gabe Anders thinks varsity soccer should be seniors only or who Mirabelle Watts made out with this weekend. I just can’t. You know?”

  Thea did know all too well about how conversation that used to flow smoothly could become a minefield between two parties, with her pretending to seem interested and them trying their hardest not to mention Natalie.

  Drew finished the rest of his cheeseburger.

  “You ate that whole thing already?” Thea was incredulous.

  He licked his lips. “I’m almost always starving.”

  Lunch flew by as they slowly learned about each other in small, careful questions; Drew was the youngest of three brothers. He lived with his dad, a public defender. Thea told him a little about herself, but she didn’t mention Natalie, though she was sure that he knew about her. Everyone in this school did. For almost thirty minutes, Thea forgot to feel alone. Everything about Drew pulled her in: the way he looped his arm across the back of his chair, the way he stabbed his french fries with a fork, the way she could tell he was smart just by how he spoke. He was a current that she enjoyed being pulled into.

  With a cautious smirk, Thea shoved the last bite of her sandwich into her mouth. “So how is it that we haven’t run into each other all year?”

  Drew shrugged as he stood. “I think that’s what happens in a huge high school like this. There are so many kids that you never get to meet anyone outside your immediate circle. I kind of resent that.” Drew heaved his enormous backpack onto his shoulders. “Anyway, what are you doing right after school today? We don’t have practice on game nights. Want to grab a coffee, take a walk?”

  “I’m sorry, I can’t. I have a commitment.” Thea frowned.

  A shadow of disappointment crossed his face. “A boyfriend type of commitment, or like a date-with-old-math-books kind of commitment?”

  The flutter of excitement that ran up her spine was followed by a twinge of guilt that she would have to lie to him. She’d just met him, for God’s sake. “Not a boyfriend kind of thing, but a commitment nonetheless. I’m sorry. Maybe some other time, like a weekend night?”

  Drew’s face visibly brightened. “Yeah, we could do that. It’s a date.”

  She stared at him for a long moment, her mind whirling. “I have to warn you, I might not be the most fun girl you’ve ever taken on a date.”

  “Oh, I k
now you won’t be.” He gestured to her now-empty table. “I mean, you eat here.”

  Thea frowned again as he shifted his feet. “Then why . . . ?”

  Drew met her eyes, a blush running over his freckled cheeks. “Thea, I’ve taken lots of fun girls on dates.” I do not love this sentence already. “But I’m kind of over fun. Fun has a sheen on it that wears off in the daylight, you know? I’m looking for interesting. I don’t want my one year at Roosevelt to be exactly like all the years at my old school. And now that I’ve met you, that prospect is even more unfathomable.”

  Thea hoisted up her own backpack as she stood, confused at the feelings coursing through her—attraction, excitement, but also annoyance that this handsome boy had wandered into her life just as something bigger had started. Where were you six months ago, when I could barely get out of bed? But he was here now, lacing up his sneakers, Thea trying not to notice his carved calves. “Need help to class?” he asked as he offered her his arm.

  Thea declined. “Actually, I’m quite capable of walking there myself, but I’ll take the company.”

  Drew’s grin lit up every dark corner of the library. “I accept your compromise.” Together they walked the halls, drawing the curious eyes of their classmates. Thea kept one eye on him and another on the clock.

  Six

  As soon as the bell rang, Thea shot out of the building and tossed her backpack into the car before gunning down the highway. She was thankful that this time she would be going through the main entrance, not jumping trenches filled with snakes or climbing cypress trees. She drove through the front gates marked by two pillars topped with green moss. From the front, Mademoiselle Corday loomed even larger: a witchy shadow that stood starkly against the barren trees that surrounded it.

  Moving as fast as she could, she climbed into the back seat and changed into the black leggings and shirt that she had worn the day before. She leaped out of the car, her heart pounding—with fear or excitement, she wasn’t sure—as she ran up to the door. Four names were painted in gold above the door:

  JOHNSON • HAGEMAN • ZINN • CLEARY

  Thea took a deep breath and reached for the knocker—a heavy iron ring that looked to be about a hundred years old. The door swung open, and Thea found herself staring at Nixon’s terrifyingly perfect face. Today she wore the same uniform as Thea: black leggings and a black shirt, though her shirt had a tiny black embroidered butterfly on the pocket.

  Thea shifted. “Hi, I um—”

  “You were almost late,” snapped Nixon. “Don’t let it happen again.”

  “Yes, I’m sorry, I left as soon as school got out—”

  “In the future you will have to move faster to get here on time. Do you have the envelope?”

  Thea nodded and pulled it from her backpack, then handed it to Nixon. “Yes.”

  “Good. Well, since we’ve already had our introduction, there’s really nothing more to do than welcome you to the Black Coats.” The president’s bright red lips curled. “Follow me.” Nixon closed the door behind her, and Thea had the distinct sensation of being swallowed by Mademoiselle Corday, of fading into her grand secrets.

  Thea followed behind as Nixon wove through a narrow hallway, passing an elaborate modern kitchen on the right and a large, frilly sunroom on the left.

  “New recruits such as yourself are confined to your classroom, your private bathroom, and the Haunt. You may visit other areas only if you are assigned them for chores.” She made a sharp right under a small wooden archway adorned with a mirrored dresser. On the dresser hung a white lace garland that read, “Team Banner.”

  Thea looked at it with surprise. “You would think that Martha Stewart lived in this house,” she muttered.

  Nixon raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow at her. “That’s the general idea. And if you forget to call me ma’am again, we are going to have some real problems.”

  Thea swallowed. “Sorry, ma’am.”

  Nixon placed a hand on the ivory door handle, carved to look like a rose. “Welcome to Team Banner.”

  Thea didn’t know what she was expecting, but an actual classroom wasn’t it. The room was a warm, cozy, windowless space. A small brick fireplace was tucked in the back of the room, and at the front sat a narrow walnut desk. Old-fashioned elementary school desks were lined up, and four were now occupied by girls her own age, with their eyes all trained on Thea. Nixon gestured to the empty desk, and Thea sat, her face flushing with embarrassment. She had driven as fast as she dared. How did they get here so fast?

  Nixon stood at the front of the room, hands resting on slim hips, dark brown eyes staring down her new recruits. “Ladies, welcome to Team Banner. These women who sit around you will become more than your friends—they will become your sisters. Now, I’m assuming you all read your contracts thoroughly.” She looked at the girls, some of whom nodded. “When I ask you a question, you will respond with, ‘Yes, ma’am!’”

  “Yes, ma’am!” the girls echoed.

  “Good.” Nixon walked over to the door and returned with the black garment bag that had been hanging there ominously. With a hard yank, she pulled off the bag and held the hanger up for everyone to see. “Who knows what this is?” A mousy brunette with a pale face, upturned nose, and a smattering of freckles raised her hand. “Yes, Louise?”

  “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 cl
oud 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.”