The Black Coats Page 3

  Thea wiped a stray tear on her sleeve as Nixon continued, the hard rap of her heels echoing through the room. “There are many good men in this world, and for them we are grateful. But that doesn’t mean that we, as women, are meant to quietly accept the unending stream of violence against us. We are called to rise against it, and the Black Coats of Austin will answer the call, to give justice where justice has been denied. You have been invited to be part of that organization.”

  Thea narrowed her eyes. “Why would you want me? I have no special skills that may be of use to you. I’m not . . . you know . . .” She paused, searching for the right word. “A ninja.”

  Nixon laughed, an unnatural bark. “Neither are we. Some of us are very skilled in martial arts, myself included. But it’s not a requirement. As a Black Coat, you will learn about martial arts, among many other things, but this isn’t MI6. This is an organization of women who have lives outside the organization as well. The Black Coats term is limited, so women may move on with their lives afterward, finish college, and fulfill their professional dreams.” She smiled. “Many of our alumni, inspired by their time here, grow up to be judges, prosecutors, detectives, and law enforcers. It is the ultimate justice to succeed in the real world and fight violence from within the system.”

  She rested her hands on Thea’s shoulders, turning her gently to look at the photographs. “See these faces? For most of the women whose faces you see in this room, justice never came. That is, until we delivered it.” She spun her back around, and Thea found herself staring into Nixon’s intense brown eyes. “Thea, you were picked for the Black Coats because you have something to offer us. You are fast, you are intelligent, but, most important”—she nodded to the picture Thea was holding—“you have reason.”

  Thea bit her cheek. “So all of it, the fountain, the tree, the boy . . .”

  Nixon tapped her fingers together. “They were all a test. The fountain served two purposes: to see if you were willing to be reckless, and to make sure you weren’t wearing a wire. The tree was to test your problem-solving skills and your willingness to do something dangerous. And the boy, Sahil, well, that purpose should be obvious. We needed to see if you would be willing to hurt a man to get the outcome you desired. And you were.”

  A brief wave of shame passed through Thea.

  Nixon clicked away from Thea and sat down in the chair, crossing her legs elegantly. “I’ve saved the best part for last. After you join the Black Coats and serve the appropriate amount of time, you will be entitled to your inheritance.”

  Thea looked down at Nixon, by far the most terrifying person she had ever met. “My inheritance?”

  Nixon nodded to the picture in Thea’s hands. “Justice. For Natalie. The man who took Natalie’s life will feel the full wrath of the Black Coats, if you so desire. He will pay the price for what he did to your cousin. That’s your inheritance, our generous repayment for the use of your services. What was his name—the man accused of murdering your cousin? Cabby?”

  Rage poured into Thea’s brain, the need for justice making a potent cocktail. Justice for Natalie. My God. “Yes,” she whispered. “Yes. I’m in.”

  Nixon nodded. “That’s what we figured you would say. However, we don’t want anyone making rash decisions. We will send you home with the contract, and if you find that you still want to join the Black Coats, you will come back here tomorrow after school to begin your training and to meet your team. If you don’t show, your potential contract will be burned and you will not get a second offer to join.”

  Thea clenched her fingers. “I understand.”

  Nixon handed Thea a black manila envelope. “Inside is your contract. Make sure to read it carefully. Show it to no one. Which brings me to my least favorite part of the initiation ceremony.” Nixon sighed. “If you tell anyone about the Black Coats—your parents, your friends, your local police officer—we will release the numerous videotapes we have of you entering our residence without being invited, also known as breaking and entering, and attacking a young man who lives here without provocation. We will have no choice but to submit that to the police, along with the proof of your fingerprints everywhere, and the fact that you are dressed like a burglar.”

  “But . . . I was invited here! I was following directions,” Thea gasped.

  Nixon gave her a sympathetic smile. “They won’t believe you. We have many lovely women on the police force here in Austin who are Black Coats alumni, so I’m sure they’ll help us out as well.”

  Thea frowned. “I won’t tell anyone.” I don’t even have friends, she thought.

  Nixon shrugged. “It’s necessary to protect ourselves. It’s nothing personal.”

  There was a loud slam from behind them, followed by a frustrated shout. Nixon brushed back a single strand of hair from her face, tucking it neatly behind her ear. “That will be our next recruit trying to get through the door. Frankly, I’m not sure she’s going to make it; Sahil is pretty strong, and the last recruit caught him off guard.” She winked at Thea and smiled, showing off her perfect white teeth lined up in a neat row.

  Nixon walked over to what appeared to be a solid wall and then, with a push of her hand, swung open a hidden door. “If you go out through here and take a right at the split, this will also take you to the main foyer. You’ll pass a table with some light refreshments: some biscuits, pimiento cheese crackers, and sweet tea. Please help yourself if you are hungry. Your clothes will be in a bag near the door.” Then she politely waved her hand. “You’re dismissed.”

  Thea walked away from her, clutching the envelope in her hand so tightly she could feel her fingers going numb. The doorway led into a long, winding hallway of cherrywood panels and cozy hanging lights. She passed several shut doors, each one marked with a number and a plaque with a strange symbol: a bird, a banner, a crown. One sat cracked open at the end of the hall, a small sliver of light spilling out onto the floor. From inside Thea could hear the cadence of older female voices.

  “The water grows shallower each year. I’m just not sure it’s a safe place anymore. They are building that gaudy new home not far from there, and it’s a pebble’s throw away from the Breviary—”

  “Hush. Someone is coming.” A loud voice, croaking with age, silenced them. “We will not speak of this until we have new information. It is not the time to worry now, not with new girls to vet.”

  Thea walked quickly past the door, finding her way back to the entrance. A tiny chalkboard sign hanging on a hook from the front door read, “Thank you for visiting us!” The plastic bag hanging from it was knotted with a bow of burlap twine and a small clutch of wildflowers. She pushed her way out the door and into the humid fog that was now filling the valley, swallowing the house and its secrets.

  Thea drove out the way she came, carefully placing the picture of Natalie on the dashboard where her dear friend’s eyes could watch her every turn. Bursting, awkward laughs tumbled from Thea’s lips as she relived what had just happened to her. As she drove, she glanced periodically over to the black envelope resting on the passenger seat, touching it every few minutes to make sure that this wasn’t all a dream.

  Four

  Thea was bursting with excitement as she pulled the Civic up in front of her white clapboard house. As she parked, a flash of a man climbing a ladder across the street caught her eye. She couldn’t wait to open the black envelope and yet—what the hell was happening over there?

  She tucked the envelope into her backpack and strolled across the yard, an uncomfortable lump making its way up her throat as she stopped cold on the lawn. They were painting Natalie’s house. Her dad had told her last week that it had been sold and that the new owners would be moving in soon, but this . . . this was unacceptable. Natalie’s house had once been a bright, happy yellow, the brightest on the block, and now two men dressed in coveralls were splashing a bright crimson red across the exterior. Red.

  Fury rose up through Thea and she clenched her fists. “Are you kidding me?�
�� she snapped, unable to control herself. She felt a hand rest on her shoulder, and Thea leaned back against her mother. “I hate it,” she stated. “Why does it have to be red?”

  Her mother, a stunning black woman sometimes mistaken for a famous soap star, shook her head and sighed, her eyes betraying a new weariness. “I saw them come this morning, and I knew it was going to hurt.”

  They both stood in silence, watching the painters roll the lines of paint fluidly across the siding. Her mother squeezed her shoulder.

  “How about we move?” whispered Thea, not the first time she had suggested it.

  “We’re working on it.” She gave Thea a gentle pat and then turned her around. “Love, I got a call from your school today. They said that you left during fourth period and were absent for all your classes after that. What happened?”

  Thea dropped her head, trying to think fast. “I, umm . . . I got upset in class and just wanted to go to my car.”

  Her mother’s words were cautiously gentle, echoing the social-worker tone she used at work. “It’s okay to excuse yourself if you need some time to process your emotions. However, after you are done, you need to go back to class.” As she continued, Thea closed her eyes, listening to the same conversation her parents had with her week after week. They were trying to be supportive, but there was a wall, and she couldn’t figure out how to get over it, to where her parents were, to where the rest of life was. Everything seemed numb, like she was looking at the world through a fogged-up window.

  Then she remembered the black envelope in her backpack. That was something worth waking up for. A purpose, a mission, a secret. Revenge. Her fingers tingled.

  “I’m going inside. I can’t look at it anymore.” Thea gave her mom a squeeze. “I promise I’ll go back to class if I leave again. I just couldn’t . . . not today.” The lies came easily. As her mom watched the painters, Thea could see tears gathering in her eyes. She couldn’t see her mom cry, not again. She had seen her parents cry more than any child ever should. “I’ll be up in my room.”

  Her mom had a faraway look in her eyes as she stared across the street. “Sounds great.”

  Thea was already jogging toward the house, her backpack bouncing on her shoulders. Once inside, she whistled and Alma, their ancient Irish setter, padded over to greet her. Thea crouched down and gave her a kiss on her doggy nose. “Something exciting happened today,” she whispered while she scratched behind Alma’s ears and played with her floppy cheeks. “Come on!” Alma slowly followed Thea into her bedroom.

  Thea plugged in the blue star lights that hung over her bed and tore into her backpack, pulling the envelope out of the bag. Taking a deep breath, she pulled out a multipage document, printed in lovely calligraphy.

  On behalf of Robin Peterson and Julie Westing, luminaries and founding members of the Black Coats, we cordially invite you, Thea Soloman, to join the Black Coats of Austin.

  As a part of our small team of new recruits, you will train, learn, and serve the Black Coats. If you fail to adhere to any of these core rules, an appropriate punishment will be administered swiftly, followed by an exile from the group.

  A BLACK COAT’S RULES OF ETIQUETTE AND SERVICE

  A Black Coat is never to speak of the Black Coats outside of Mademoiselle Corday or at an official Black Coats function.

  Assignments (called Balancings) for the Black Coats are given out by the luminaries only and are taken very seriously. Deviating from Balancings will result in immediate exile from the group.

  Black Coats work only within their assigned teams. These three teams are Emperor, Swallowtail, and your team, Banner. Each team is led by a senior Black Coat (called presidents). President Nixon, whom you have already met, is the leader of your team.

  Thea took a deep breath. “Team Banner, led by the scariest woman alive. Okay.” Still, she liked the way it sounded. With a grin, she tucked her legs up under her body and kept reading, heart pounding with excitement.

  After you begin serving the Black Coats, you will become eligible for your inheritance, one Balancing for the person of your choosing. The luminaries decide at what point you will be given your inheritance.

  At the end of your tenure, your service to the Black Coats will be terminated, and you will join our distinguished list of alumni and serve us in a professional capacity.

  Mademoiselle Corday runs off the backs of new recruits like yourself. You will be expected to fulfill your duties to the house without complaint and in a timely manner.

  You will proceed with your normal life during school hours and will come to us directly after school and all day on Saturdays. We will mail a form to your parents from the school detailing your new community service for the Historical Society for Restoration of Victorian Houses. This is your alibi for all Black Coat–related activities.

  She flipped the page over, her hands moving slowly to avoid crinkling the delicate paper.

  WELCOME TO THE BLACK COATS,

  THEA SOLOMAN.

  SIGNATURE: ________________ DATE: ________________

  Soulevez-vous, femmes de la vengeance

  Thea exhaled a long breath and leaned back against her bounty of throw pillows. Like an arrow, this organization had targeted her greatest desire: justice for Natalie. There was no amount of counseling that could give her this. She would be a part of something righteous.

  Thea looked around her bare room. Her walls used to be lined with ribbons, newspaper articles, and handwritten letters from her track coach. It had been the thing she and Natalie had shared; track had been their life. After Natalie died, Thea had pulled down the clippings and the ribbons, and in a bout of hysteria, tried to burn them in the fireplace. Now there weren’t any matches in the house, her bedroom wasn’t as cozy as it once was, and Thea wasn’t a part of anything, anywhere.

  But now there was this, a chance to wake up, a chance to belong in an entirely different way, a place where she wouldn’t be known as the sad girl anymore, where she could become someone new. Thea’s smile grew. And then she would have her revenge, the cherry on top of this strange cake. Cabby Baptist would pay for what he did. Thea picked up a pen from her desk. Her hand trembled a little as she scrolled her name across the contract: Thea Soloman.

  She read over the contract a few more times before folding it carefully back into the envelope and tucking it into her backpack. There was no way she was forgetting that tomorrow. She lay back against Alma’s soft body, curling into her russet fur. “It’s happening,” she breathed. “It’s real.” That afternoon, when she had been numbly throwing clay, seemed a lifetime ago.

  Bill Soloman’s cheerful voice interrupted her thoughts. “Thea! A dad cannot live on air alone! It’s your night for dinner!”

  “Okay! I’m coming!” Thea shook off this new excitement and headed downstairs, the possibilities of her future overruled by the hope of finding black beans.

  “Mrrmmph, that was delicious.” After dinner her father leaned back in his chair, patting his belly as the overhead lights reflected off his balding white head. Even without hair, he was still handsome, at least Thea always thought so. He had snagged her mother, after all. “I liked the peppers in the quesadillas, Thea. Let’s always put those in. Ladies, shall we retire to the viewing room? Tonight is the Survivor premiere.”

  Thea cleared her throat awkwardly. “One thing first—I want you both to stay for this.” Both of her parents froze, clearly anticipating the worst. She spread her hands flat on the table, a strange guilt creeping up her chest. “Don’t get too excited, but I’ve decided to join a new group at school.” Her dad’s face lit up immediately, and her mother’s eyes filled with tears. Thea sighed. “Oh my gosh, this is what I was talking about. Please don’t freak.”

  “Oh, Thea!” Suddenly, her mom was wrapping her arms around her, smelling like lemon and coconut oil. “This is exciting, baby! We can’t help but be happy for you.” Her mother’s voice was tinged with more than joy—a palpable relief was pouring forth through b
oth of her parents. Our daughter is participating in life. She’s not suicidal. Maybe she’ll be okay.

  Thea squirmed out of her mom’s grasp. “Can you please, for just a minute, act like normal parents?”

  Her dad straightened up as her mom returned to her seat. He said, “Yes. Absolutely.”

  Thea took a deep breath. “I’ve joined a club called the Historical Society for the Restoration of Victorian Houses.”

  Her dad looked ready to fly to the moon. “Victorian houses? Restoring them? Do they need any volunteers?”

  Thea’s heart rate raised significantly. Bill Soloman loved tinkering with old things. He was, after all, an engineer. “No. They have pretty strict rules about parents helping. Students only,” she explained truthfully.

  Her dad leaned back in his seat, obviously disappointed. “That makes sense, I guess—can’t have adults doing all the work.”

  Thea looked over at her mother, who looked disappointed. “Mom?”

  Her mother’s voice creaked out from somewhere deep emotionally. “You aren’t . . . doing track anymore?”

  Thea looked down at the table to avoid her mother’s distressed gaze. “No, Mom. I don’t think I’m ready for that, not yet. Maybe in college.”

  Her mother stared at her, her face struggling to control its emotion, as her dad leaped up from his chair. “Menah! Be supportive! I know you love watching Thea run, but I think this is exciting! A chance to meet new people, to learn new things.”

  You have no idea, thought Thea, how true that’s going to be. Thea noticed her mom was still staring at her. “I know you’re disappointed. I can tell.”

  Menah gave her head a shake. “No. I’m not. Honey, I could never be disappointed in you. I just don’t want you to throw away your future,” she challenged.

  Annoyance pricked inside of Thea. “I know it’s not what you want me to do, but I’m not going to run track just because you want it to be like old times.”