Charles Leclerc

Mr. Leclerc returned your exam to you. You had failed miserably, so he ordered you to see him after class. He offered to tutor you. “Come see me after class,” Mr. Leclerc ordered, looking you straight in the eye, his hand still on your desk and the exam under his own. After class, you stayed, watching the others leave, relieved. You sat there in the middle of the class, and Mr. Leclerc approached you. “Why are you smiling that mocking smile?” This question echoed in your head.