The Black Coats Page 14

  She gestured to the knife and he dropped it without hesitation. He reached for her desperately, and her hand met his own. Thea quickly wrapped her arms around his waist and let them sink down for just a moment, just enough so that her feet touched the bottom of the pool. The second she felt the sea-glass tiles brush her boots, she pushed up with all the remaining strength in her muscled legs.

  They surfaced a second later, both greedily sucking air as Thea pulled Raphael over to the side of the pool, her arms wrapped firmly around his limp form. In her blurry peripheral vision, she could see her teammates running to the side of the pool. Thea spun Raphael around to face her. He looked defeated, his skin bloated and pale, his body quivering with exhaustion. “You saved me. You didn’t have to and—”

  Thea let her fist fly, the way Nixon had taught her, connecting with Raphael’s jaw. He slumped against her in the water with a moan. Mirabelle reached her first, pulling them both out of the pool. Thea leaned over, her hands on her knees, trying to catch her breath. Casey and Bea struggled to pick Raphael up. “Is everyone okay?” Thea sputtered.

  Mirabelle’s face fell. “Not really. He had a knife in his back pocket; we didn’t know. He must have cut his hands free when Bea started working on him. He could have killed her! Thank God Louise saw him move and threw her arms out to protect herself.” She shook her head. “He cut her forearm, but it’s not too deep. She’s not going to die or anything.”

  Leave it to Mirabelle, Thea thought, to minimize a stabbing.

  They carried a limp Raphael back inside. Louise sat by the door, a towel wrapped around her bloody arm. She shook her head when she saw Thea. “This is my fault. I shouldn’t have lost control.”

  “This is no one’s fault,” reassured Thea. “Only his.” Mirabelle slammed him down into another chair, his body limp, defeated. His eyes opened partway, his whole posture sagging when his eyes met Thea’s. She recognized the look; all the fight in him was gone. She knew exactly how that felt; it was the way she had felt before the Black Coats had come along.

  Casey glanced up at the clock. “There are maybe twenty-five minutes before his guests start arriving. We needed to be gone ten minutes ago.”

  Bea stepped forward, her brown eyes blazing. “I only need three. And he’s going to get a very special gift from me.” She pulled up her hood and kneeled before Raphael, her voice changing to its commanding cadence. She thrust her hands out toward him. “Raphael Amadoor, look at me. Do you trust me?” He nodded. “Then surrender.” This time, without hesitation, he did.

  They left wearing the same cleaning uniforms that they had arrived in, leaving behind a house painted with a man’s guilt and that same man sleeping peacefully inside. At the end of his driveway a black sedan lingered. Thea approached the window, which lowered just enough to see Nixon’s dark eyes. “Anything to report?”

  Still dripping wet, Thea tilted her head, preparing to give the full details of the near disaster that had just occurred. Then she thought better of it. “Team Banner handled all conflicts. The Balancing is complete.”

  Nixon lowered the sunglasses perched on her head over her eyes. “Good. See you girls on Monday.” Then she gave Thea a sly wink just over the tinted glass. “I was never far away. And, Thea—nice sprint.”

  A happy flush ran up Thea’s cheeks. “Thanks.”

  Team Banner pulled away from the house, Casey quickly putting as much space between them and the Amadoor residence as possible. The team was giddy with delight as the golden Texas sun set in their dusty windshield. Mirabelle cranked up the music and they flew back toward Austin. As Mirabelle began singing along with a country song, Thea turned to Bea in the back seat. “What exactly did you do to Raphael?”

  Bea smiled. “It’s complicated. He won’t remember the events of today, only that he had a nervous breakdown over his own guilt.” She grinned. “Also a little extra present: Raphael will find himself violently ill at the thought of hurting a woman.”

  Thea leaned her head back against the seat with a sigh. “You’re amazing, you know.” Thea’s mind was churning as the car flew down the highway, the noise of her team fading to a background din. All she could see were Raphael’s eyes on her underwater, desperate and afraid. She had seen herself reflected in his eyes, and ever since then, doubt had pressed uncomfortably against her chest: Was what we just did to Raphael justice? Or was it torture?

  As their car sped back toward Austin, Mirabelle spun around, reaching for each of their hands. “Something has changed,” Mirabelle whispered. “Can you feel it?”

  Thea pushed her negative feelings aside and leaned forward, her eyes like embers in the dying light, the last strangled rays of gold passing over her strong features. Her voice was soft but strong when she spoke.

  “We’re not Team Banner anymore. We’re Black Coats.”

  Part Two

  Seventeen

  The sunset is stunning from here, Thea thought. Only a month had passed since she and Drew had lain on the blanket in her yard and in that time it seemed like an entire season had changed. Beyond her view, a yellow horizon hovered under a cluster of dusty-blue clouds. Underneath it was the wide stretch of land belonging to Drew’s father. Wind swirled around her shins, lifting her white sundress momentarily before it settled around her. Thea wiped the sweat from her brow, unsure if she was sweating because of the ungodly hotness of this evening or because she was about to eat dinner with Adam Porter—Drew’s dad—who was incredibly intimidating.

  “What do you think of our patio, Thea?”

  Thea turned back to Drew’s dad, a handsome man in his early fifties with salt-and-pepper hair and eyes that looked just like Drew’s. He was standing at the edge of the porch, his rigid posture intimidating. One hand was shoved in the pocket of his khaki shorts, the other clutched a beer. In all honesty, it seemed he was a bit nervous, too.

  Thea cleared her throat. “It’s lovely out here. Is that the end of your property there? By the horse?”

  Adam Porter smiled. “Oh, you mean Applejax? He’s got one foot in the grave, but we keep him around to trim the fields, I guess. A goat would probably do a better job.”

  “True,” acknowledged Thea. “But then you would have to have a goat.”

  Mr. Porter laughed before pointing at her. “I like you, Thea.”

  Drew came out onto the patio, carrying a steaming platter of barbecue. “Okay, the beef is sauced, and I think we can all prepare ourselves for the meat sweats.” He set it down on the splintered wooden table next to corn on the cob and homemade honey buns, courtesy of Thea’s mom. The three of them settled around the table. After a quick grace, they dived in. Thea ate delicately while the two men attacked their ribs.

  “So, Thea, how exactly did you and Drew meet?” asked Mr. Porter between bites.

  “Dad.” Drew shook his head. “This isn’t our engagement party. Chill out.”

  Mr. Porter slapped his son on the back. “Don’t be embarrassed, Drew. I’m just curious how a goofy guy manages to win the heart of a very interesting girl.”

  This is going well, Thea thought happily. On the drive over, she had had nightmarish visions of his dad—what if he was a bigot, a racist? What if she said something that accidentally offended him? What if he hated that his son had begun seriously dating someone right before college? What if, what if, what if . . .

  Thea was happy to see that her fears were unfounded, when upon opening the door, she had been greeted with a friendly bear hug from Mr. Porter. Now, as Thea sat at their table, across from the men, she felt content and nervous at the same time.

  “So . . .” Mr. Porter leaned forward, a meaty rib in his hand.

  “Oh yes, how did we meet?” Thea cleared her throat.

  Drew didn’t let her answer. “Thea was swimming in a fountain outside of school.”

  Mr. Porter almost choked on his beer. “I’m sorry?”

  “When I met Thea, she was swimming around in the Bucket,” he continued.

  Mr. Por
ter’s eyebrows raised. “That disgusting fountain outside the school? Oh, Thea, why? That water is not even close to blue. Why on earth were you in it?”

  “It’s still a mystery.” Drew raised his eyebrows as he squeezed a lime over the corncobs. “She says she dropped her schedule, but I have my doubts.”

  Thea leaned back in her seat, her heart beating a little faster than she would like. Think of a lie. Quick. “Okay, you got me. I had dropped something else. A ring.”

  Drew tilted his head, his eyes narrowing. “A ring? Why didn’t you say so?”

  Thea’s heart ached at what she was about to say. “It was Natalie’s. I didn’t want to talk about it.”

  The silence could have cracked the wood table in two. Drew put down his corn, his eyes full of sorrow. “I’m so sorry, Thea. I didn’t know.”

  “It’s okay.” You lying cow, Thea reprimanded herself. What am I doing?

  Mr. Porter leaned back in his chair, his eyes sympathetic. “Drew told me about your cousin. I remember when it was all over the news. I’m so sorry that you had to go through that. I’m sure it’s been really hard on your family.”

  Thea clenched her napkin under the table, willing herself not to cry. There was something about the kindness of these two men that threatened to break her. “It hasn’t been easy,” she mumbled, looking for an out.

  Mr. Porter must have seen her struggling for a change of subject and decided to help. “So Drew told me that he took you to Harry’s on your first date?”

  Thea looked at him gratefully. “He did, and it was quite the experience.”

  Their conversation blossomed out from there, easily darting from one subject to the next. To her surprise she found herself enjoying the evening, tossing secret smiles Drew’s way, laughing at the funny relationship Drew had with his dad—Drew groaning at his dad’s jokes, Mr. Porter taking such obvious pride in his son’s accomplishments.

  After a spectacular meal, Thea stood to help clear the table but was intercepted by Mr. Porter. “Sit, sit! We’ll do that later. You are our guest! I insist.”

  Thea smiled, shyly tucking her hair back behind one ear. Drew’s dad paused. “So, Thea, tell me about this club you’re in! Drew said you flip houses?”

  Drew stared hard at his father. “No, Dad, that’s not what I said. She fixes old houses.”

  “Oh. That makes more sense. I was going to say, that’s a lot of work for a high schooler.”

  Thea clenched her teeth, losing track of the lies. “We take old Victorian houses and slowly restore them with a team of other high school girls. It’s intense work, but it’s very rewarding.”

  Mr. Porter’s eyes narrowed. “It’s so interesting! How did you ever find out about this kind of thing? Is it offered at Roosevelt? They seem like more of a bread-and-butter athletics kind of school.” He nodded at Drew, who was lazily tracing his fingers down Thea’s arm. “No offense, son.”

  “None taken. The place is kind of crappy.”

  Mr. Porter raised his beer. “So how do you like this society?”

  Thea let a deep truth pour out of her. “You know how when you see something deeply broken, you just want to fix it? Well, sometimes you can’t, because you don’t have the resources, or you aren’t strong enough. But these houses, which are sometimes filthy places, crawling with rats and waste, you can fix them. You can do something about it.” She sighed. “That’s why I love it. Because as I restore these houses, I feel like . . .”

  “You’re restoring yourself.” Drew was looking at her now, his green eyes seeing everything about her except the truth.

  Thea took a jagged breath and lay back against the crook of his arm. “Yeah.”

  Adam Porter watched her with curious eyes. “So do they let dads join?”

  Thea and Drew started laughing. “No, they don’t, and you’re the second dad to ask about it. My father desperately wants in.”

  Mr. Porter patted his full belly. “Well, maybe your dad and I will have to get together to find our own houses to restore.”

  “That’s not fair,” muttered Drew. “All I have is soccer, and I don’t care about that half as much as you care about this.”

  “Son.” Mr. Porter’s eyes bore down on his son. “Don’t ever sell short your abilities. You’re amazing out there.”

  “I have to agree,” intoned Thea. “I’ve heard about your amazing abilities myself.”

  “And yet, you’ve never seen a game.” Drew’s voice carried a sharpness that surprised Thea, though she knew she deserved it.

  “Well, we will have to change that, won’t we?” she said, softly resting her fingers on his elbow.

  “Will you bring pom-poms? Say you will.”

  “Drew Abraham Porter!” His dad stood. “Stop teasing the poor girl and get her some peach cobbler.”

  Thea grinned. “Yes, get the poor girl some cobbler, please.”

  Drew leaped up from the table. Adam Porter watched their visitor in the waning sun. “Can I ask you something, Thea?” She turned her head. His eyes burned into hers, curious and intense. “How is Drew doing? With his mom leaving and all.”

  Thea swallowed. “To be honest, he hasn’t really talked to me about it. A mention here and there but nothing more.”

  Mr. Porter nodded. “That’s about what I get, too. It’s got to be hard. His mom already had two feet out the door when he turned ten. Mothering was just too much for her. She was . . . not like you.”

  Thea tilted her head. “How do you mean?”

  “You’re strong. I can see it. A girl doesn’t make it through something like her cousin’s murder without a spine of iron.” He shook his head. “Nasty world we live in, where people take things into their own hands, lean into their most selfish desire. People like that destroy lives.” His eyes lingered on Drew happily doling out a bucket’s worth of whipped cream on top of each dessert. She squirmed uncomfortably, remembering the blood that had dashed over her knuckles the night before. It hadn’t been her own. “Thea, I sure hope they caught the bastard who did that to your cousin.”

  In the background the strains of Johnnyswim began playing over the kitchen radio. Adam Porter smiled and stood up from the table. “Thea, it’s been a while, but would you dance with me? I love this song.”

  Thea offered her hand, and Drew’s dad took it, twirling her around the patio. When he stomped his feet and began clapping, Drew joined in. Thea lifted her feet and threw out her arms, letting the happy beat echo through her. It was the opposite of what she had expected: meeting her boyfriend’s dad had somehow turned into a truly lovely evening. Thea spun in the twilight, letting a carefree delight wash over her: a new feeling for a new time.

  Thea returned home a few hours later, hoping to slip into the bed she was beginning to miss so much. A light was on in the kitchen, and when she entered the room, the solitary figure at the table made her leap backward. “Oh my God! Mom! You scared me. What are you doing up so late?”

  “Oh, sorry, honey.” Her mom rested her arms on their worn kitchen table. “I was just making some tea for your friend.”

  Thea shook her head. “Drew stayed home with his dad. He’s not here.”

  “Not Drew, honey, your other friend. Mirabelle?” Her mom’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Is that the one you and Natalie used to talk about?” She checked behind her. “You know, the mean girl?”

  Mom, Thea thought, cringing.

  “Well, she’s here.” Her mom raised her eyes. “She’s upstairs in your room, and pretty upset by the looks of it.”

  Thea nodded, inwardly sighing. An emotional Mirabelle was going to be the opposite of sleep. Thea’s mom handed her two steaming mugs of tea. “Quick, tell me—how was meeting Drew’s dad?”

  Thea sighed. “Good. I really liked him, actually. We had a good time. They have a horse.”

  “Interesting. Is his dad a rancher?”

  Thea shook her head. “No, he’s some sort of public defender, I think.”

  Her mom patted her
cheek softly. “You’ve got your color back, girl. It must be Drew.” She raised her eyebrows with a smile.

  “Mom, stop.” Even as she said it, Thea knew that she didn’t mean it. Seeing her mom smile was a gift that she would never again take for granted.

  “Okay, I won’t keep you. Go see Mirabelle.” She shook her head with a laugh. “Wonders never cease.”

  Thea made her way up the stairs, the smell of honey and chamomile tea making her eyes water. With her foot she pushed open the door. “Hey, Mirabelle, what’s—” She stopped when she saw her face. Her teammate looked destroyed. Mascara had run down her cheeks in long black rivulets. Her normally bright blue eyes were red and glassy, and her perfect mane of hair was piled into a tousled bun on top of her head. Thea put the mugs down on her bookcase before turning to Mirabelle. “Oh my God. What happened? Are you okay?” She pulled her into a quick hug before stepping backward.

  Mirabelle reached into the pocket of her hooded sweatshirt and pulled out a folded piece of paper. She handed it to Thea, her hand giving a slight tremble. Thea carefully unfolded the tearstained paper.

  Mirabelle Watts Inheritance

  Dear Mirabelle,

  As a luminary, it is my job to decide when it is the appropriate time for you to earn your inheritance. I feel that the time has come for you, Mirabelle Watts, to take yours. With my permission, you may commission your team for this Balancing. Both the target and the severity of the punishment are up to you. All the information you need is provided here.

  Signed,

  Julie Westing

  Thea struggled to find her breath. An inheritance? Already? It was crazy. Did that mean hers was on the way, too? She shook her head. “What are you going to do?”