Chapter Four - LINH

                                    

                                          


                          
The water was still on the surface. It was quiet, waiting—waiting for the wind to push it that way, or an insect to make a ripple. Beneath, however, everything was loud. Everything roared in Linh's ears. Inside, it was a hurricane. It was a storm. 
                          
But the storm was trapped, trapped beneath the glassy surface, trapped beneath a mirror. The mirror that reflected the world back into your eyes, because the water was not selfish. It was giving. It kept nothing for itself; it only gave. The water was Linh. And she, the water.
                          
	Distantly, there was a voice: "Coach."
                          
	But the roaring was too powerful. It swallowed the sound, consumed it. There was nothing here but the water's thoughts. Nothing but Linh.
                          
	"Coach." The voice, again. Again, it was swallowed.
                          
	"Coach."
                          
	"Coach."
                          
	"Coach."
                          
	"COACH!"
                          
	Linh's eyes snapped open, and the water rose in a wave, pushing her to the top, to the air, where she could breathe. She looked down at the group of wide-eyed students huddled on the bank of the river.
                          
	Linh frowned. "How long was I...?" Her voice trailed off when the children parted, revealing a shadowed figure. Tam.
                          
	"Okay, Waywards, you're free to leap home now," said Linh, urging the water to set her on the ground. As it retreated, the liquid was sucked out of Linh's clothing, skin, and hair, leaving her completely dry as she faced her brother. 
                          
The last of the Waywards left, and she gave a soft sigh. Sometimes she wasn't sure what Tam would do anymore; for a long time, Linh had been able to predict her twin's mood swings, but now... now he didn't have mood swings. He was just angry. All. The. Time. She wasn't sure when he'd explode—but she didn't want her students there when he did.
                          
"How was the meeting?" she asked when Tam said nothing. He'd gathered the nearby shadows, shrouding his face in darkness and making it impossible for her to tell what he was thinking.
                          
That didn't use to be so hard.
                          
"It was fine," Tam snapped, the words at complete odds with his tone. "But Marella doesn't take the Purities seriously."
                          
Ah. So this was about Marella. 
                          
"Why does that bother you?" Linh asked. Maybe Tam would actually answer one of her questions; the last time she'd tried to talk to him about his feelings, he'd completely shut her out.
                          
"I don't know! She's just so... untroubled!"
                          
"And you're not."
                          
"Exactly! I'm not, like... stiff, though."
                          
Linh bit her lip to keep the smile back. "Uh huh."
                          
The shadows around Tam's eyes parted just enough to show his glare. "Whatever, Linh. All I'm saying is, the Purities are a legitimate threat to all that the Black Swan and Council have worked toward."
                          
"Did you tell her that?"
                          
"Yes! She just rolled her eyes at me!"
                          
Linh opened her mouth to defend Marella—after all, there were more problems the Lost Cities were dealing with than a nonviolent rebel organization—but she thought better of it. Tam didn't need her dissent; he needed someone to tell him he was right.
                          
Even if Linh wasn't sure that he was.
                          
"Do you want me to talk to her?" she asked instead.
                          
"I can speak for myself," Tam growled.