Page 111 of The Debutantes
At least, I think it’s Coach he’s thinking of. Because, as I watch him take it all in—the flames, the floats, the ruined kingdom he never got to rule—there’s a part of me that wonders if those are the things he really can’t leave behind.
It’s a part of me that I choose to silence, snuffing it out like a flame pinched between my fingers. I tell myself it’s his son he’s thinking about, the chance to save a life, even if it won’t make up for the one they took, as he turns and runs back into the burning warehouse.
And then I sprint outside without looking back.
43APRIL
JANUARY 3, 1:00A.M.
When it’s all over, the outside of the Den looks almost like the aftermath of a parade. Police lights wash the side of the warehouse in red and blue, and the parking lot is littered with some of what the fire department was able to salvage after they put out the blaze: bags of beads and other throws, old costumes and Deus records from their ancient paper filing system. Even now, they’re afraid to let it burn completely. I guess it makes sense. Marty wasn’t wrong when he said we set centuries of history on fire. It’s not so easy to let that go.
A small crowd has formed, too, like the paradegoers who linger on the streets long after the floats have finished rolling. Police, firefighters, and, until a few minutes ago, the EMTs who wheeled Coach and Marty into the ambulance before speeding away, sirens blaring. They’re both alive, at least for now—though I heard the word “critical” as they rolled Coach by in his gurney.
The police are talking to Lily first. She’s standing across the parking lot with two officers and both her parents, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders like something out of a TVshow: missing girl in shock, reunited with her family, who can’t keep their eyes or their arms off of her, like they’re terrified she’ll vanish again.
It’s still burned into the film of my memory, the way Mrs. LeBlanc looked when she got here. She pulled Piper, Vivian, and me into a hug much fiercer than I’d expect from someone so dignified, and when she let go, there was a fire in her eyes as real as the one we’d left behind.Thank you,she’d said, and then again, like maybe we hadn’t understood.Thank you.
It should be heartwarming, but I’m still stuck on the way Lily talked to Marty and Coach. Their good little captive. In the end, I know she was the one to light the flame, but I wonder if she still would have done it if they hadn’t tied her up with the rest of us. If they’d offered her another way out.
“That was pretty badass with the zip ties,” Vivian tells Piper, bringing me back to here, our little cluster in the parking lot.
Piper shrugs, but she can’t hide the proud look on her face. “My mom sends me a lot of ‘what to do if you get kidnapped’ videos. I guess they came in handy.”
Vivian laughs. “Point one for Mrs. Johnson.”
Piper smiles, but it fades quickly. I get it. Mrs. Johnson knew about the cover-up of Margot’s murder, and the thought of seeing her makes me almost sick with dread. I can only imagine what it must be like for Piper, knowing her entire family was a part of this.
“You okay?” Vivian asks me, reading the worry on my face.
“You’ve been quiet,” Piper adds.
“I’m always quiet.”
“Yeah, but the part where we almost died tonight is new, smart-ass,” Piper says with a tenderness that warms me from the inside.
I shrug. “Nothing decades of therapy can’t fix.”
“I mean, we were kind of already headed in that direction,” Vivian says. “Comes with the whole debutante thing.”
For a beat, we’re quiet. And then, with a sudden ferocity, Piper pulls us both into a hug. It shocks me, at first, but then I relax into it, squeezing back.
“Hey,” she says, sounding uncharacteristically self-conscious. “When we get to school again, are we still friends?”
“Wait, are wefriends?” Vivian jokes.
“Yeah, I don’t do friends,” I add.
“Y’all are rude,” Piper says, but there’s a huge grin on her face.
A car turns into the parking lot, and for half a second, I’m petrified. Even now, knowing Marty and Coach have been caught, I can’t shake the fear that more Pierrot men could appear from the shadows, their eyes familiar and threatening behind the masks.
But then Piper straightens, clearly recognizing the car just as Aiden Ortiz climbs out of the driver’s seat.
He runs right to her, crushing her into a hug as tight as the one she just gave us.
“You almost gave me a heart attack,” he says.
“Hello to you, too.” Her voice is muffled by his shirt.
