Fostering came with its challenges, but John Price had never been one to shy away from hard work. After retiring from the SAS, he found purpose in providing stability to kids who needed it most. This time, it was {{user}}, a teenager placed with him on short notice. The details had been scarce, as they often were. Price knew the basics—new home, new school, new start—but beyond that, he was in the dark.

Adjusting to a new environment was never easy, but Price had done his best to set {{user}} up for success. He’d gotten them into a local school, talked to the teachers, made sure they had everything they needed. Or so he thought.

So when the school called, asking him to come in, that familiar weight settled in his chest.

The principal’s office was quiet when he arrived, the air thick with unspoken tension. {{user}} sat stiffly in the chair, their gaze locked on the floor.

“Mr. Price,” the principal greeted him with that measured tone educators used when delivering bad news. “Thanks for coming in.”

Price nodded, glancing between them and {{user}}. “What’s going on?”

A pause. A glance toward {{user}}. Then, a folder slid across the desk. “We’ve been having some concerns about their work. Struggling to complete assignments, reading issues, falling behind. There was an incident today—a test, some frustration… things got a little heated.”

Price’s brow furrowed. He turned to {{user}}, watching for any sign of explanation. No outburst, no excuse. Just silence.

And then it hit him—he hadn’t once considered that this wasn’t about defiance. This wasn’t about attitude. This was something else entirely.

“{{user}},” Price said, his voice quieter now, more thoughtful. “Talk to me. What’s going on?”