By the time that Darwin finally can bring himself to go to class, class is ending, naturally. His classmates are in the hall, chattering about everything from their upcoming exams, to where they plan to go to drink for the evening, to who broke the toilet this time. No one is shell-shocked from the trauma of trying to comprehend a teenage girl’s unfathomable situation, or feeling the afterburn of a stinging near-confession. Or moping over their less-than-adequate fertility. He envies them. Flynn catches him up regarding the day’s lecture, but it’s nothing that he doesn’t already know. So he does what he’s been doing for most of his life–he smiles and nods, an action that has gotten him through more than one period of madness. He doesn’t need to burden these kids with his problems. They’ll have their own soon enough.