by Omar Tyree
Matthew forced conversation on Troy in an attempt to be friendly. But Troy barely responded. His academic future was on the line. He could suddenly taste the tension of failure stirring inside his mouth and nauseating his stomach. The restless, butterflylike energy began to increase as the instructor’s assistants passed out four-different-colored exams. Troy received a lime-colored exam while Matthew received an orange.
Troy answered all of the questions he knew, a mere twelve out of thirty. He was dying for help, stopping short of begging. He gave a second look and guessed ten more. With eight questions remaining he started to aggressively peek at Matthew’s test, which was unfortunately covered.
Matthew was left-handed and sitting to Troy’s right. He curled his hand around his pencil, blocking Troy’s view.
At home, a friend would never sell out a friend. If he did, he would suffer the consequences of the group. New York streets were probably no different. Yet State U held no such neighborhood bonding. College effectively served as a weeding institution.
“Ay’, Mat, what’s the answer to this?” Troy whispered forcefully. He watched the assistants carefully.
By then, many of the White students were cheating in their small groups, just as Troy had suspected. “Ay’, Mat, what’s this, man?” he urgently repeated.
The first time, he thought maybe Matthew didn’t hear him. But it quickly became evident that he didn’t want to respond. Troy then slid his test paper in Matthew’s immediate eyesight. He even circled the question so his friend could easily recognize it.
“Please help me, cuz.Please! What’s the answer to some of these questions?”
Matthew whispered back. “Wait, man. I gotta finish mine first.” But he was taking his sweet time, which Troy was running out of.
“Naw, man, the time is almost up, cuz. Help me now,” he begged with desperate tears swelling up inside his eyes and his heart pounding frantically.
“We got different tests anyway. I probably don’t have the same questions as you,” Matthew responded. He didn’t even look to see the questions.
Troy gave up. Matthew was not interested in helping him. He was making excuses.
Troy no longer cared. Hecouldn’t allow himself to fail. Hehad to score. He asked the White students cheating all around him. White girls were cheating in back of him. A group of White guys were cheating in front of him, beside him, and all around him.
Troy nervously decided to ask the White guys sitting to his left. He wrote down their suggested answers as Matthew slyly listened in on him but didn’t say anything.
Their answers were all wrong.
“Ay’, Mat, I know you didn’t want to cheat, but what were the answers that I asked you for on the test?” Troy queried. He was hoping he had gotten the right answers from the White students.
“I don’t know,” Matthew lied. “We had different tests.”
Troy snatched his friend’s question sheet, realizing what he had known all along. Matthew knew it too, as he tried, unsuccessfully, to buffer his ridiculous lies.
Troy then looked over to the White students still sitting to his left. They were whispering and laughing and pointing at him. They never whispered well. Troy heard their comments loud and clear.
“Hey, Jeff?” one asked his friend.
“Yeah,” Jeff answered, peeking in Troy’s direction to his right.
“I gave him about ten wrong answers.”
Troy looked at Matthew’s answers, all different from the ones he had received from the White students. Possibly they were the right ones. He then gave Matthew’s question sheet back and walked out into the auditorium hallway disgusted.
He was handed an answer sheet from the assistants. Matthew approached and stood beside him. Troy walked the other way, avoiding him while checking his answers. He scored only fourteen out of thirty correctly. He then headed back to his dorm in a state of shock, feeling betrayed. He wasn’t exactly angry at Matthew for not wanting to cheat, however. He knew that the test was fair and square. He was not prepared. And he had failed.
Troy’s room had been empty all semester long, but now itfelt empty. He had failed for the first time in his life. The intense agony was overwhelming. An internal war was raging, which he had no control over. He felt like going after Matthew. He felt like attacking the White students. He felt like yelling. He felt like breaking something, stealing something, getting drunk, taking drugs, committing crimes, making babies, and killing someone to release his pain.
A burst of energy tempted him to run to Matthew’s isolated dorm room and do battle. But it wouldn’t change his failure. It was not a successful solution.
Vibrations in Troy’s throat and chest challenged him to laugh at the humor of the situation. Yet there was no humor in failure. Instead, he cried like a toddler. Not since the age of six had he cried. He had gotten stung by five bumblebees at the playground. He had invaded their hive and they gave him what they thought he deserved. Now, he had been stung again.
Slippery tears dropped helplessly from his smooth brown face and rolled down to his neck. No muscle in his arm was willing to contribute to stopping them or wiping them away. He was simply exhausted from all of the unnecessary strife.
“I don’t believe this,” he said to himself as he lay across his bed and stared up at a blank ceiling. He laughed through a cracked voice filled with too much emotion. His heart seemed to burn through his chest as new tears rolled down his face.
“Ain’t this abitch !” he yelled to himself. “It’s just one setback, though. I ain’t finished yet. They not gon’ break me this easy. I’ve come too far to quit.”
He began to smile as he nodded his head with new spirit. “I gotta keep my focus. That’s all. I ain’t done yet. People need me. And I gotta set an example.”
When he had finished wiping his eyes and his neck, he sensed a new strength and outlook. It seemed that he had just gone through a trial of sorts. Failure could to lead to resurrection. He believed that, maybe, he was being tested to see how strong his willpower was. He was determined not to fail again.
He rose from his bed with newborn inspiration, and the telephone rang.
“Hello,” he answered on the first ring.
“So, how you do on your test?” a familiar voice asked.
Troy smiled, feeling like he could see her through the phone. “I failed, Karen,” he answered, upbeat, as if he were excited about it.
“Well, you don’t sound like the Troy that I know. You wasn’t mad at all?” she asked him.
“Of course I was mad, Karen. But I recuperated. And it was like I realized that I’m still livin’, still learnin’, and I’m still a scholar. I don’t have to pass the White man’s test. Education is to be utilized for the self and for the people. And I know it may sound crazy to you, but I feel invincible now.”
Troy smiled again and walked over to the window, stretching the phone cord. Outside it was beginning to snow. At the downtown office where she worked, Karen smiled herself, understanding more than what Troy could. She had already been taught to remain strong and focused.
“So, are you ready to try again?” she quizzed him.
“You damn right,” Troy told her. And he was serious.
“Well, my father is dying to meet you,” Karen alluded.
“I’m dying to meet him too. I got a lot of questions I want to ask him.”
Karen was immediately excited. “Oh, well, he gon’ love you, then. My father has a lot to teach, but few are willing to listen.”
Troy nodded and felt calm. Karen seemed to control his emotions again, soothing him with her voice, her strength, and her self-assurance. He felt confident knowing that he would learn more to succeed and that she would support him. The battle was not over. It had just begun, and it would be continuous. He had learned that the struggle for Black Americans lasted a lifetime. And he was still a soldier, ready for combat.
Those who possess patient self-control shall become virtuous.
Those who possess confidence shall achieve great things.
Those who think and question shall attain wisdom.
And those who stand strong in faith shall be invincible.