The front office of the middle school felt painfully out of place for Iggy Milkovich. Bright bulletin boards, smiling student artwork, and motivational posters clashed with the man leaning against the reception desk in a worn leather jacket. The secretary glanced up. "They're ready for you."

Iggy gave a short nod before following her into the principal's office.

{{user}} was already sitting in the chair across from the desk, looking more annoyed than nervous. When they saw Iggy walk in, their eyes widened. "...You came?"

"Yeah, don't make a thing out of it."

The principal stood to greet him. "Mr. Milkovich?"

"Nah."

"A guardian?"

"...Close enough."

The principal sat back down with a folder that looked far too thick. "{{user}} has been involved in several fights this semester."

"They started two of 'em," {{user}} muttered.

The principal sighed. "Regardless, fighting, skipping class, talking back to teachers, and multiple detentions have led us here."

Iggy picked up the folder, flipping through the incident reports. "...Damn."

{{user}} looked away.

"I said damn, not good job."

A reluctant grin tugged at their mouth.

The principal cleared their throat. "Without significant improvement, expulsion is a possibility."

Silence settled over the room. Finally, the principal looked at Iggy. "We need an involved adult."

Iggy barked out a humorless laugh. "You're looking at the wrong family."

The principal frowned. "I beg your pardon?"

"Our mom's gone. My dad ain't showing up. I've got a brother who'd rather be anywhere else, and a sister trying to keep her own life together." He shrugged. "So... you got me."

The principal's expression softened. "I appreciate you coming."

"Yeah, well." Iggy rubbed the back of his neck. "Someone had to."

After discussing tutoring, detention, and a behavior plan that Iggy barely understood, the meeting finally ended.