ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴏɴɢ ꜱɪᴅᴇ

t a m

The next morning when Linh and I arrived to Exillium, we found the group of five newcomers talking to the Coaches. We'd barely started the day, and the same girl from yesterday was already baffling me.

"It doesn't matter," the purple Coach said, and I assumed she was responding to the question of where we were, a common one asked by new Waywards. It never mattered.

"How can you say that?" the one other girl of the group asked, the one who'd frayed her rope against the metal arch to get down. "Don't you know what's happening down there?"

"We don't," the red Coach cut in. "And we aren't supposed to."

"That's not our world," the blue Coach interjected. "It's simply scenery."

I couldn't see the girl from yesterday's expression, but I could hear the incredulity in her voice. "So you don't care that—"

"We don't," the blue Coach interrupted.

"We can't," the purple Coach added. "We know our place, and the role we're expected to play." She narrowed her eyes at the group. "The five of you need to learn yours."

"You're no longer part of a community," the red Coach said, and I could see how the girl unconsciously took a step back, like she was getting slapped in the face. Still, the Coach continued. "You're fighting for survival and redemption."

I thought the girl would back down after that, but she regained her composure and kept on. "But how is it redeeming to only care about ourselves?"

Everyone fell silent. Even I could barely believe her words. She was going to get herself slapped in the face, and I stood there, waiting for that inevitable lash from one of the Coaches—but all they did was order the Waywards who were accidently-on-purpose listening in on the conversation (which, of course, was everyone) to their Hemispheres.

Head ducked, the girl ran to the Ambi tent, slumping down in the corner. Linh and I glanced at each other before walking over to her.

Sensing our presence, she looked up at us.

I pushed my shadow over hers. "You'll get in huge trouble if you keep talking to the Coaches like that," I shadow-whispered.

She swallowed but didn't waver. Probably, she transmitted. But someone needs to tell them they're wrong.

I couldn't help but grin. Because she was absolutely right.

"This place is called Bosk Gorge," I told her, figuring I might as well. "And it's not the worst we've seen of the desolation."

She hesitated. Where was the worst? she finally asked.

"Wildwood," I replied. "There's pretty much nothing left."

The girl looked like she was about to answer when the Coach entered, clapping her hands. "Everyone rise!"

Linh and I backed away and levitated ourselves off the ground. We'd been here for so long that we barely had to think about it, but I could see the girl struggling to move in the air. At one point, she stopped to take a break, and I could tell she was communicating telepathically with someone as she caught her breath. I shook my head, almost laughing at her nerve; the Coaches would punish us all if they caught her.

Lunch finally came, and Linh went to claim our mat while I chose a fruit from the basket. It was purple and spiky this time, and I could only hope that it was half-decent—even after all these years, we couldn't be sure about the food here.

"You should be more careful about your telepathic conversations," I shadow-whispered to the girl halfway through lunch, warning her only for the sole reason of keeping Linh out of harm's way. I knew how harsh the Coaches' punishments could be.

She startled before glancing back at me. One of these times you're going to give me a heart attack, she transmitted. How do you talk like that?

I stifled a snort, ignoring Linh's curious glance. "It's called shadow-whispering," I answered the girl. "My shadow is carrying my consciousness, so no one can hear me except you—but I still only do it when no one's looking. You need to take the same precaution. If the Coach catches you, they'll punish everyone. They want us to hate each other. It's how they keep control. They know there are only three of them and hundreds of us. If we unite, we could take them out easily."

If I could've seen her face, I guessed she'd have narrowed her eyes. Or they could try getting us to like them, she countered. Fear isn't the only way to control people.

Not for the first time, I had to hold in my laughter. This girl was sadly clueless. "No," I agreed, "but it's the quickest." I paused, and then added darkly, "I would know."

The girl didn't respond.