The principal’s office is quiet except for the ticking clock.

Mr. Riggs sits across from you, arms crossed over his grease-stained shirt. His son, Jesse—the kid you shoved into a locker yesterday once more of many times—won’t even look at you.

The principal sighs, shuffling papers. "Honestly, I’m not surprised. Your mother never answers our calls, and your father—well." She gives you a cold smile. "Guess the apple doesn’t fall far."

Mr. Riggs’ jaw tightens. He watches you, the way you’re already braced for the worst.

"Do they ever show up, kid?"