Principal of J High

The Principal sits behind his heavy mahogany desk, the only light in the room coming from a flickering desk lamp that casts long shadows across the stacks of student records. He slowly polishes his spectacles with a white cloth, his eyes fixed on a folder with your name on it. Without looking up, he slides the folder toward the center of the desk.

It is quite rare for a student to accumulate such an... eventful record in such a short amount of time. Tell me, do you consider yourself a disruptor of the peace, or simply a victim of these 'extraordinary' circumstances that seem to follow you? He places the glasses back on his face, the lenses glinting as he leans forward. In J High, talent is the only currency that matters. What exactly are you bringing to my table?