The Black Coats

by Colleen Oakes

  Mirabelle leaped up. “What do you mean, what am I going to do? I’m going to take it!” The streetlight cast shadows across her sharp cheekbones. “Marc Mitzi stole my parents from me. He paid a three-thousand-dollar fine and was in prison for a very short time for reckless endangerment.” She spun around, her eyes flashing. “A slap on the wrist, for taking my entire life!” She curled her fist. “We are going to make him bleed. Tonight.”

  “No. Not tonight. Not tomorrow night. We need time to plan, and I’m not letting you go out when you are in a state like this. Look at you. You’re a train wreck, and it’s understandable, but you are not in the right frame of mind for a Balancing. No way.” She reached out for Mirabelle, who was sobbing into her hands. “I know you want to go right now, because you’ve been waiting for this your entire life, but tonight is not the night. Say it.”

  Mirabelle took in a painful breath before she choked out the words. “Tonight is not the night.”

  Thea curled her arm around her friend’s shoulder. “Okay. We will do this. Today is Saturday. How about Wednesday night? We’ll leave straight after school for Mademoiselle Corday, grab our gear, and then go. But, Mirabelle, you know it can’t be you. Hitting him. You’re too invested emotionally. It has to be us.”

  Mirabelle nodded, her voice now stripped of all emotion. “I’ll stay in the car.”

  Thea doubted it, but that was something to worry about later. “Mirabelle, we’ll get him, okay? We just need time to plan.” Thea eyed her bed with longing. “Why don’t you stay here tonight? I’ll sleep on the floor. I used to do that all the time with—” She lost her voice halfway through the sentence.

  “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.”

  Thea nodded. “That’s fair.”

  “Good.” Her dad snapped open the paper. “I’m going to choose the most awkward movie I can find. That’ll teach you to ignore us.”

  The door slammed behind Thea as she made her way to her Honda, thankful that she had parents who cared but also nervous about their growing curiosity about her activities. She turned the key and flew out of her neighborhood, wondering just how long she could keep this lie going.

  Eighteen

  A half hour later, Thea pushed open the front door of Mademoiselle Corday to absolute silence. Where was everyone? She stepped forward, straining to hear anything. Quietly, she tiptoed her way through the house, clutching her purse, wondering if she was the victim of a final bizarre hazing into the Black Coats. At last there was something: a whisper coming from the kitchen area. T
he kitchen? She wound her way into the huge room, ducking under the hanging copper pots. The sound of women’s voices singing some sort of dirge was coming from the pantry. The pantry? What the hell was going on here?

  Thea pushed open the door and was met with a familiar sight: canned milk, jars of honey, and bags of flour. She stared for a moment before her eyes caught it, tracing the line of the ceiling down toward the shelves. There, invisible if someone wasn’t looking for it, was the faint outline of a door. A secret door. Although it probably wasn’t all that secret if everyone had gone through it already.

  Thea snuck through the door and started down a steep brick staircase that wound deep into the damp earth. At the bottom, the staircase opened up to a sliding barn door. Voices tumbled out of the opening while Thea ducked down into her coat, hoping no one would notice that she was late. The room was full of bodies, so many bodies that Thea soon found herself crushed in a horde of shoulders, each of them wearing a black coat. Rising to her toes, she spotted her team, tucked away in the left corner of the room. At the front of the room was a long wooden table, and upon that the coffin of Robin Peterson ominously loomed over the proceedings, her black coat draped over it. Beeswax candles dripped in every possible corner, and the air was thick with incense. Near the coffin, Julie Westing was directing a small choir of Black Coats through a song that Thea actually knew: “God’s Gonna Cut You Down,” the Johnny Cash cover version. Her dad was a Cash fan, and, apparently, Robin had been, too. The Black Coats’ voices rose through the basement, filling the cold room with sound and raising the hairs on the back of her neck. Of course they had perfect harmony. Casey caught her eye with a disapproving glare and motioned her over. Thea had started toward them when she saw Sahil, seated behind Julie at the front. It wasn’t the fact that he was curled over with his hands on his eyes, so obviously broken by grief that hurt her heart. It was what he was wearing. Gone were the white linen tunic and pants, the only outfit Thea had ever seen him in, and in their place was an immaculate black suit. A properly pressed black suit for his mother’s funeral. As she watched, he raised his dark eyes and stared at the coffin, his eyes dull. Thea knew from her experience that he probably wasn’t even processing what was going on right now. He was deep within himself, watching all of this like an out-of-body experience and telling himself in some small, comforting way that this wasn’t actually happening to him.

  Thea felt tears pooling at the corner of her eyes. She didn’t really know Robin at all, but she knew what it was like to lose a loved one. After that, life’s never the same. As the song came to a close, Julie cut off the choir and raised her hands for the crowd’s attention.

  “Robin loved that song. I know, because she played it on repeat constantly.” The women gave a polite chuckle. Sahil looked like he was going to throw up. “Many of you know this already, but for those new team members who don’t, Robin and I started the Black Coats after she was raped in 1972, just outside of Grapeland High School.” Julie turned toward Robin’s coffin, sorrow distorting her face. “She was a friend, a confidante, and a partner. We disagreed constantly, but that didn’t change the fact that we built the Black Coats together.” Some in the crowd gave a quiet clap.

  “It hurts to say goodbye to her. Robin had an unbridled enthusiasm for life and optimism that she poured out onto all of us, for justice and for the Black Coats. She will be missed by so many—sisters here, sisters afar, and by her son, Sahil. I know she was most proud of him, a man who will always do what needs to be done to protect women.” Sahil looked away from the coffin, his face a violent struggle. Julie’s eyes narrowed, and the candlelight flickered off her hollowed cheeks.

  “But for now we must look forward, to the future of our organization. As the sole luminary I will do my best to lead this group. We will cut out our weaknesses. I will work to secure what we have and plunge us firmly into the future of this great city. We will rise from Robin’s loss stronger, a group of women who will be feared and respected. We will stand against those who oppose us, and to those who hunt us”—she paused—“we will join you on the black road.” The Black Coats erupted into thundering applause.

  The three presidents stood rigidly near the body like guards protecting a king. Nixon stood perfectly still, but tears crawled down her face. McKinley faced forward, her eyes darting from Robin’s coffin to Julie and back. Kennedy was smiling at Julie with a worshipful expression.

  The luminary continued, “And now, Robin will sleep in the cradle of the place that she loved so well, as we send her on with prayers for her eternal rest.” Julie carefully laid her hand on the coffin. She ran her palm over Robin’s coat with a nostalgic look on her face. Then she turned back to the Black Coats. “Please head upstairs to the Haunt, where we will toast our Robin with her favorite drink—a gin and tonic—and other refreshments. Thank you all for coming.”

  Thea pressed against the wall as the crowd moved past her, a cold look crossing Julie’s features when her eyes met Thea’s. Then she was gone, followed by a pack of Black Coats all making their way up the stairs.

  Mirabelle sidled up next to Thea, elbowing her softly. “Way to be late to a funeral, team leader!”

  Thea shook her head. “I know. I’m sorry. My parents were difficult this morning.”

  “Don’t worry, I think only Julie noticed,” Casey said softly.

  Louise was red-eyed. “It was so sad! Robin wasn’t even that old!”

  “More reason to live for right now,” said Bea as she squeezed Louise’s arm.

  Casey fiddled with her collar. “Speaking of, I’m going to attempt to get a gin and tonic. Who’s going to card us here?”

  Mirabelle looked over at her with exasperation. “Of course you would be thinking about that right now.”

  Louise leaned in. “Did you hear what Julie said about cutting our weakness? Is that us? Are we the weakness?”

  “I don’t think she was talking about us. I think she was talking about someone coming after the Black Coats. I’ve heard whispers that they are worried about that,” Mirabelle replied.

  Louise shook her head. “Who would be that stupid?”

  Thea saw that Sahil had not moved from his spot on the chair. “You guys go on ahead. I’ll be a minute.” The team looked at Thea with raised eyebrows before heading upstairs. Thea walked over to Sahil and rested a hand on his shoulder, dully aware of the fact that there was a dead body a foot from where she stood. “Hey,” she said gently.

  “Hey.” His voice was ragged and dry, probably from all the crying he had done. Thea didn’t say anything. Sometimes it was best to just let the other person feel, to be open to whatever came out of his mouth. “She was sick for a long time,” he croaked. She nodded. Sahil went on, “She was ready. We were ready. Everything was prepared, and yet . . .” He let out a sob. “I don’t feel ready for this.”

  Thea shook her head. “No one is.”

  He wiped away a tear with a half laugh. “How creepy is this place down here?”

  “Yeah, it’s pretty bleak. Is this where they keep all the bodies?”

  Sahil’s head jerked up. “What do you mean?”

  “Nothing. It was just a joke. Bad timing. Funerals make people do weird things,” said Thea. Sahil cracked a smile, but it wasn’t honest.

  Thea looked at the floor. “It gets easier. I never thought I would say that, but somehow it’s true. I thought I would never laugh again. It was like a grenade was dropped onto my entire life and yet I laugh. I smile. I look forward to things.”

  Sahil raised his eyes. “Like our training?”

  Thea shook her head. “Well, I wouldn’t go that far.”

  “Thanks for talking to me. Everyone is acting like I’m either invisible or made of glass.” He pushed up from his chair. “I should probably go upstairs. Julie will be waiting for me to pretend I’m supportive of everything she does. My mom’s body is barely cold for three minutes and she’s already changing things.” He sighed. “I just want to run. Far away from
here. From everyone and everything.”

  Thea took his hand. “Anytime you want to run, I’ll run with you.” She paused. “As long as you don’t run out of the state, because that won’t work for me.” He smiled, and this time it was real. “I’ll see you upstairs, okay? Take your time. Everyone else can wait.” She gave his hand a squeeze.

  As she climbed the stairs, the light growing brighter with each step, she was at once sorry for Sahil and thankful that she wasn’t lingering in that kind of darkness anymore. There was no way through it but time.

  She found Team Banner seated outside, spread over a picnic table just outside the Haunt’s open doors. Inside the Haunt, the sounds of a polite reception filled the space, whereas outside the air buzzed with the sound of bees seeking sweet nectar. Mirabelle had lain down on the picnic table, a pair of bright yellow sunglasses perched on the end of her nose. “How was Sahil? I didn’t know you were hot for him.”

  “I’m not,” snapped Thea. “He’s a friend, and someone who could use more friends, frankly.”

  “Mirabelle!” Bea snapped. “He’s grieving! Give it a rest!”

  Mirabelle sighed. “Okay, but only because I know what it’s like to lose a mom.” She pushed herself up on her elbows as Louise took a sip of sweet tea. Thea parked herself next to Casey. “So did you wrangle a gin and tonic?”

  Casey fiddled with her key ring. “Nope. Damn Black Coats, following the law only when it suits them.”

  Mirabelle snorted. “Hey, how long do you think we have to be here?”

  Thea drummed her fingers on the tabletop, half listening, her mind on Sahil’s grief-wracked face. “I’m not sure, but here comes Nixon to tell us. Sit up, Mirabelle. Now!”

  Mirabelle scurried to a normal sitting position. Their tired-looking president approached the table. She had obviously been up all night. “Nixon,” started Thea, “I’m sorry for your loss.”