The mess hall is so empty it feels like we are in the wrong place, except that the Headmaster is already there waiting for us. The four of us stand at the edge of the raised platform that acts as the stage, clustered awkwardly. Tables, meant to feed hundreds, are mostly bare except for a handful of upperclassmen. Some watch us with lazy interest; some are busy with their books and their porridge.
I spot Marcus and Jax, standing against the wall in the back, hands jammed in their pockets. I want to wave, but I'm not sure if that's what a boy would do, so instead I just nod to them.
The redhead fidgets at the end of our line, picking at the seam of his sleeve until the fabric is about to come apart. Beside me is the other short student who played Ellsworth, his jaw so tight that I'm worrie
