V IC T O R I A S C H WA B 56
To August, it all tasted the same. And it all tasted like nothing. “That’s because it’s people food,” Leo would say. “I’m a person,” he’d say, tensing. “No.” His brother would shake his head. “You’re not.” August knew that he meant, You’re more. But it didn’t make him feel like more. It made him feel like an impostor. Now, the way other people felt about food, that’s how August felt about music. He could savor each note, taste the melody. The thought made his tallies prickle, his fingers ache for the violin. Across the table, Colin was telling a story. August wasn’t listening, but he was watching. As Colin talked, his face went through an acrobatic procession of expressions, one folding into the next. August took a second bite, chewed, swallowed, and set the apple down. Sam leaned forward. “Not hungry?” Before August could show her the half-eaten contents of his bag, Colin cut in. “I’m always hungry,” he said with his mouth full. “Like, always.” Sam rolled her eyes. “I’ve noticed.” The boy, Alex, speared a piece of fruit. “So, Frederick,” he said, emphasizing every syllable in the name. “Colton
SavageSong FNL INT.indd 56
5/20/16 2:25 PM