THIS SAVAGE SONG 41
She didn’t know—couldn’t know—who he was, but her dark eyes tracked over him in a slow, appraising way, the very edge of a smile on her lips, before Headmaster Dean instructed them to take their seats. August sank into his chair, feeling like he’d just escaped a brush with death. “Now,” continued the headmaster, “if you haven’t gotten your ID card yet, make sure to retrieve it by the end of the day. Not only can you use the card to pay for lunch and school supplies, but you’ll need it to access certain parts of the campus, including the theater, sports facilities, and soundproof music rooms.” August’s head shot up. He didn’t care about the cafeteria, had little interest in drama or fitness, but a place where he could play in peace? That would be worth an ID. “An attendant will be in the ID room during lunch and for half an hour after school . . .” The headmaster rambled on for several more minutes, but August had stopped listening. When the assembly was over, the wave of students carried him out of the auditorium and into the lobby, where it took him roughly thirty seconds to realize he had no idea where he was supposed to go next. The hall was a tangle of uniformed bodies; he tried to get out of the way as he dug his schedule from his bag.
SavageSong FNL INT.indd 41
5/20/16 2:25 PM