#*roderick

Iggy kept stealing glances up at Mr. Jameson, feeling guilty for keeping him this late after class. It was meant to be a tutoring session, some worksheets to figure out where he was struggling, but it had been nearly an hour and he was the only one still sitting there, the classroom nearly emptied out. “I’m sorry,” he said, flipping over the paper, head shaking. “I’m almost done, I just--I don’t--” His laugh was nervous, a little bit higher pitched than his speaking voice. “I have no idea what I’m doing.” Face red, he pushed back his chair, letting out a quiet huff. “I read the questions, I picture them in my head, then... Nothing. I might as well be reading Greek.”