This Savage Song (Monsters of Verity #1)(18)

“No,” he answered automatically, and then, slower, “I was homeschooled.”

“Ah, no wonder you’re so quiet.”

“Alex,” said Sam, angling a kick under the table, “that’s rude.”

“What? I could have said ‘weird.’”

Another kick.

“It’s okay,” said August, managing a smile. “I’m just not used to so many people.”

“Where do you live?” asked Colin around a mouthful of pasta.

August took another bite of apple, using it to force down the words rising in his throat. In those stolen seconds, he sorted through his lines, trying find the right truth. “Near the Seam,” he answered.

“Damn,” said Alex, whistling. “In the red?”

“Yeah,” said August slowly, “but it’s North City, so . . .”

“It’s only scary if you don’t have a medal,” added Colin, tapping the embossed pendant around his neck.

Sam was shaking her head. “I don’t know. I’ve heard bad things happen in the red. Even to those with Harker’s protection.”

Alex shot a look across the cafeteria. “Don’t let her hear you say that. She’ll tell her dad.”

Colin shrugged, and started talking about a concert—the boy’s mind seemed to jump around even more than his—but August followed Alex’s gaze. Katherine was sitting alone at a table, but she didn’t look lonely. In fact, there was a small, defiant smile on her lips. As if she wanted to be alone. As if the fact people avoided her was a badge. August didn’t get it.

“You want to come, Freddie?”

He watched as she picked at her food in a slow disinterested way, as she drew a metallic nail around the edge of her pendant, as she got to her feet.

“Freddie?”

The current of the cafeteria shifted with the movement, eyes drifting her way. But she didn’t seem to mind. She kept her head up as she dumped the tray and walked out.

“He’s not even listening.”

August’s attention snapped back. “Sorry, what?”

“Concert, Saturday, you want to come?”

“None of us are going,” Sam cut in, sparing August from having to answer. “Because there’s a curfew, Colin. And it’s practically in the Waste!”

“And we don’t want to die,” added Alex in a gross exaggeration of Sam’s tone. He flailed his arms as he said it.

“My mom would skin me,” said Sam, ignoring the impersonation.

“Not if a Corsai did it first,” teased Alex. Sam gave him a horrified look and punched him in the shoulder.

“Ow!”

“I just think,” said Colin, leaning across the table, “that life is short, you know?” His tone was soft, conspiratorial. He had a way of making August feel like he wasn’t new, like he’d been there all along. “You can’t spend it afraid.”

August found himself nodding, even though he spent most of his time afraid. Afraid of what he was, afraid of what he wasn’t, afraid of unraveling, becoming something else, becoming nothing.

“Yeah,” cut in Alex, “life is short, and it will be a hell of a lot shorter if you go wandering at night . . .”

Colin’s mouth quirked. “Freddie’s not afraid of monsters, are you?”

August didn’t know how to answer that. He didn’t have to.

“I totally saw one once,” added Colin.

“You are so full of it . . .”

“What did you do?”

“I obviously ran like hell.”

August laughed. It felt good.

And then, between one bite of apple and the next, the hunger started.

It began as nothing.

Or almost nothing, like the moment before a cold starts, that split second of wooziness that warns you a fever is coming. Dwelling on it—Is that a tickle? Is my throat getting scratchy? How long have I been sniffling?—only made it worse faster, and he tried to smother the spike of panic even as it shot through him.

Ignore it, he told himself. Mind over body—which would work right up until the hunger spread from body to mind, and then he’d be in trouble. He focused on his breathing, forced air down his throat and through his lungs.

“Hey, Freddie, you okay?” asked Colin, and August realized he was gripping the table. “You look a little sick.”

“Yeah,” he said, pushing to his feet, nearly tripping as his legs tangled in the chair. “I just . . . I’m going to grab some fresh air.”

August swung his bag onto his shoulder, trashed what was left of his lunch, and pushed through the cafeteria doors, not caring where they led, so long as they led out.

He was behind the school, the trees a green line in the distance. The air was cool, and he gulped it in, muttering, “you’re okay, you’re okay, you’re okay,” to himself before realizing he wasn’t alone.

Someone cleared her throat, and August turned to find Katherine Harker leaning against the building, a cigarette dangling from her fingers.

“Bad day?”





Kate just wanted a moment of peace. A moment to breathe, and think, and not be on display. Charlotte’s words were still lodged under her skin.