The procession or parade or convoy or whatever it was drove up alongside the curb at the top of the plaza, just across the street from the town hall, and stopped.

Kids climbed out of each car. They wore black slacks and white shirts. Girls wore pleated black skirts and matching knee-high socks. Both boys and girls had on blazers in a subdued shade of red, with a large crest sewn over the heart. Boys and girls alike wore striped ties of red, black, and gold.

The crest featured ornate letters “C” and “A” in gold thread over a background that showed a golden eagle and a mountain lion. Beneath the crest was the Latin motto of Coates Academy: Ad augusta, per angusta. To high places by narrow roads.

“They’re all Coates kids.” It was Astrid. She and Little Pete stood with Edilio. Sam jumped down to be beside them.

“A well-rehearsed display,” Astrid said, as though reading Sam’s mind.

As the Coates kids climbed out of the cars, the crowd actually drew back a step.

There had always been a rivalry between the kids in town, who thought of themselves as normal kids, and the Coates kids, who tended to be wealthy and, although the Academy tried to disguise the fact, strange.

Coates was the place your rich parents sent you when other schools found you “difficult.”

The Coates kids lined up, not quite a drill team in their order and precision, but like they had practiced it.

“Quasi-military,” Astrid said in a low, discreet voice.

Then one boy, wearing a bright yellow V-necked sweater instead of his blazer, stood up in the convertible. He grinned sheepishly and climbed nimbly from the backseat onto the trunk. He gave a little self-deprecating wave, as if to say he couldn’t believe what he was doing.

He was handsome, even Sam noticed that. He had dark hair and dark eyes, not much different from Sam himself. But this boy’s face seemed to glow with an inner light. He radiated confidence, but without arrogance or condescension. In fact, he managed to seem genuinely humble even while standing alone, looking out over everyone else.

“Hi, everyone,” he said. “I’m Caine Soren. You probably figured out that I . . . we. . . are from Coates Academy. Either that or we all just have the same bad taste in clothing.”

There was a bit of a laugh from the crowd.

“A self-deprecating joke to loosen us up,” Astrid said, continuing her whispered commentary.

Gone, Chapter 14