jump around even more than hisâbut August followed Alexâs gaze. Katherine was sitting alone at a table, but she didnât 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 didnât get it.
âYou want to come, Freddie?â
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.
âFreddie?â
The current of the cafeteria shifted with the movement, eyes drifting her way. But she didnât seem to mind. She kept her head up as she dumped the tray and walked out.
âHeâs not even listening.â
Augustâs attention snapped back. âSorry, what?â
âConcert, Saturday, you want to come?â
â None of us are going,â Sam cut in, sparing August from having to answer. âBecause thereâs a curfew , Colin. And itâs practically in the Waste !â
âAnd we donât want to die ,â added Alex in a gross exaggeration of Samâs tone. He flailed his arms as he said it.
âMy mom would skin me,â said Sam, ignoring the impersonation.
âNot if a Corsai did it first,â teased Alex. Sam gave him a horrified look and punched him in the shoulder.
âOw!â
âI just think,â said Colin, leaning across the table, âthat life is short, you know?â His tone was soft, conspiratorial. He had a way of making August feel like he wasnât new, like heâd been there all along. âYou canât spend it afraid.â
August found himself nodding, even though he spent most of his time afraid. Afraid of what he was, afraid of what he wasnât, afraid of unraveling, becoming something else, becoming nothing.
âYeah,â cut in Alex, âlife is short, and it will be a hell of a lot shorter if you go wandering at night . . .â
Colinâs mouth quirked. âFreddieâs not afraid of monsters, are you?â
August didnât know how to answer that. He didnât have to.
âI totally saw one once,â added Colin.
âYou are so full of it . . .â
âWhat did you do?â
âI obviously ran like hell.â
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 itâIs that a tickle? Is my throat getting scratchy? How long have I been sniffling?âonly 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 bodyâ which would work right up until the hunger spread from body to mind, and then heâd be in trouble. He focused on his breathing, forced air down his throat and through his lungs.
âHey, Freddie, you okay?â asked Colin, and August realized he was gripping the table. âYou look a little sick.â
âYeah,â he said, pushing to his feet, nearly tripping ashis legs tangled in the chair. âI just . . . Iâm going to grab some fresh air.â
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, âyouâre okay, youâre okay, youâre okay,â to himself before realizing he wasnât alone.
Someone cleared her throat, and August turned to find Katherine Harker leaning against the building, a cigarette dangling from her fingers.
âBad day?â
Kate just wanted a moment of peace. A moment to breathe, and think, and not be on display. Charlotteâs words were still lodged under her skin.
I