This Savage Song by Victoria Schwab Page A

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.
    â€œNow,” 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.
    â€œAn 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.
    â€œHey, Frederick .”
    He looked up and saw Colin jostling through the crowd. He caught August by the sleeve and pulled him out of the current. “I’ve got you.” His gaze flicked down, and he saw August’s forearm where the sleeve had pushed up. Those expressive eyes went wide. “Oh, nice tattoos, dude. But don’t let Dean see them. He’s crazy strict. I wore a temporary one on my face one time—I think it was a bee, I don’t remember why—and he made me scrub it off. School policy.”
    August tugged his sleeve back down, and Colin stole a glance at the sheet in his hand. “Oh, perfect. We have English together. I thought I saw your name on the roster. I check all the rosters ahead of time, just to see who I’m up against, you know?” August did not know, and he couldn’t tell if it was his influence making Colin so chatty, or if the boy was just naturally that way, but he suspected the latter. “Anyway, come on,” Colin tugged him toward a stairwell door. “I know a shortcut.”
    â€œTo where?”
    â€œTo English, obviously. We could take the hall but there are too many damned freshmen !” he bellowed. Several smaller students glanced wide-eyed at him, and the teacher in the skirt shot Colin a dark look. “Get to class, Mr. Stevenson.”
    Colin only winked at her and stepped into thestairwell, holding the door for August, who wasn’t sure if he was being helped or abducted. But he didn’t want to be late for the first class of his life, so he followed anyway. Just before the door banged shut, he thought he saw Katherine Harker walk past, the students around her parting like a sea.

When people talked about the first day of school, they used terms like “fresh start,” and “new beginning,” and always made a point of saying it was a chance to define—or redefine—yourself.
    In Kate’s eyes, the first day was an opportunity, one she’d taken advantage of it at each of her previous institutions, and those first days felt like an education unto themselves, leading up to this. Her first day at Colton was a chance to set the tone. A chance to make an impression . She had the added advantage of being on home turf; people here might not know her, but they all knew of her, and that was better. It was a foundation, something to be built upon. By the end of the week, Colton would be hers. After all, if she couldn’t rule a school, she didn’t deserve to run a city.
    Kate didn’t actually care that much about running a school or a city. She just didn’t want Harker to look at herand see weak, see helpless, see a girl who shared nothing but a few lines of his face, a shade of blond. She wanted him to