Page 32 of Monstrous Serpent

“Shaw?”

He rolls his eyes and nods, typing back one-handed.

“What'd he do?”

He tilts the phone, and I snort at the picture. Shaw is hanging from the second-floor railing of the student center by one arm, eating an apple speared on the end of his knife. Rua is below, shirt off, swinging it like he’s at a striptease.

“Leash them.”

Reyes quirks a brow. “Who do you think sent the picture?”

I glance back at his screen, eyes narrowing when I spot the contact’s name. I grab my phone and unlock the screen.

Me: Get your fucking ass to class

Atlas: Cap is such a snitch

Me: Now

Atlas: Fine

I put my phone down. Been keeping him on track since high school, ever since he tried to convince me that a paper on the American Revolution was optional. It wasn't. He got a D, and Mrs. Trembley took our Xbox away for a month.

Whitmore scans the room. “So, if Mead is right and we develop our sense of self through social interaction, what happens when those interactions are absent? When a child grows up without consistent social feedback?”

Nobody answers.

She waits.

A girl near the window raises her hand. “They'd probably be really shy? Like introverted?”

She’s wrong. A kid without feedback doesn't get shy. They get quiet. They watch. They learn what's safe and what isn't by paying attention because nobody is telling them.

Someone in the third row raises a hand. “They'd, like, probably have trouble with social skills? Like understanding norms and stuff?”

“That's a start.” Whitmore nods and changes the slide.

I write whatever she mentions will be on the test, leaving the rest. The material isn't hard, and the textbook covers the same stuff. No need to read and write the same shit.

Twenty minutes later, class is done. I close my notebook, slide it into my bag, and stand. I face Reyes as I pull my bag onto one shoulder. “Got an errand. Atlas gets out of Calloway in a few.”

“He went?”

“He knows what happens if he doesn’t listen.”

Reyes snorts, shaking his head. “Yeah, I’ll get him.”

“Thanks.”

The sun is shining when we exit Harmon Hall, meaning the quad is packed. The coffee cart near the student center has a line ten deep. We pass a couple of guys tossing a football on the grass, then Reyes goes left while I go right toward the parking lot.

I slide my phone from my pocket.

Me: Reyes is meeting you at Calloway

Atlas: Why

Me: Got something to do