Report card day.
Mr. Sullivan told the class to break up into small groups to work on some problems. Neecy and Rainie moved their desks to form a group with Joss, Eva, and JaQuel.
“I am getting so pumped for the game against Banneker this weekend,” Eva said. “Do you think we have a chance?” she asked JaQuel.
“Depends on whether we can all play,” he said. “And that depends on what our report cards say this afternoon.”
“Hey, why the long faces?” Luther Ransome asked, sitting in an empty desk. He moved the desk so that it was right beside Neecy.
No one said anything to him. Finally, he laughed. “I’ll bet you’re all worried about your grades, right?”
“Pretty much,” Neecy said.
“Not me,” he said. “Luther Ransome doesn’t worry about grades. And I already checked. I’m good to go,” he added. “How ’bout you, Quel?”
“I don’t know,” JaQuel said. “It’s close. I hope I’m over the line.”
“You’re lucky you only need a 2.0 to be eligible,” Neecy said. “I think I may have dipped below 3.0 this semester.”
“No way!” Joss said. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah, unfortunately. I checked last night.”
“Well, maybe you’ll be surprised,” Joss said sympathetically.
“Neecy? Is your group ready to present the answer to the first problem?” Mr. Sullivan asked.
“Uh, not quite,” Neecy said.
“Some other group?” Mr. Sullivan asked the class. Another group volunteered. Neecy tried to follow what they had done, but she was too lost.
Finally, the bell rang. As she packed up her books, Mr. Sullivan said, “Neecy? Could I see you please?”
Neecy stopped at Mr. Sullivan’s desk. Charlie stood at the door and waited for her.
“I hope you’re not going to be too surprised when you see your grade in this class,” he said. “I know you have a lot riding on maintaining your grades. Hopefully, your average across all your classes will permit you to keep your scholarship. As always, if you want some extra help, I’m here.”
“Thanks, Mr. Sullivan,” Neecy said.
“So I guess it’s official. I got a D,” she said to Charlie.
“You know, he didn’t actually say that,” Charlie said. “I was listening very carefully to what he said. He said he hoped you wouldn’t be too surprised when you saw your grade. That could mean anything.”
“I love that you’re so optimistic,” Neecy said. “I guess I’ll know soon.”
The last class of the day was cut short so that students could go to homeroom to get their report cards. Neecy reluctantly looked over the paper, knowing what she’d see.
But she gasped in surprise.
Instead of the D she had expected in math, she had a C. Her heart soared. The C was enough to bring her average up to above a 3.0.
She didn’t know how Mr. Sullivan had justified giving her that grade. After all, she had seen her grades posted online and knew exactly what her average in the class was. The school’s computer calculated the grade based on the data inputted by the teachers. So he had to have changed something. She was curious about where he had made the change.
Whatever it was, it was enough to put her in the safety zone.
When she got home that afternoon, she logged in to the online grade system to check her grades. What she saw took her breath away.
Instead of the 72 percent she’d gotten on the last test, Mr. Sullivan had posted a 99 percent.
Neecy felt sick.
She needed the C, but she didn’t want to get it this way. This was a lie. She didn’t deserve that C, and she knew it. And she knew that Mr. Sullivan knew it as well. It made her lose respect for him. Grades were supposed to mean something—you worked hard and you got good grades. You didn’t work hard, or you couldn’t understand the subject, and you got bad grades. But not working hard and getting the same grade you would have gotten by doing a lot of work? That wasn’t right.
Later, she called Charlie as soon as she knew he was home from basketball practice. She told him what Mr. Sullivan had done. She also told him how conflicted it made her feel.
“Do you want to talk to him?” Charlie asked.
“I’m not sure it would do any good,” Neecy answered. “Now I realize what he was telling me today. He changed my grade. I had thought he was warning me that my grade would be bad. But like you said, he never really said that. He just told me I might be surprised.”
“So what do you want to do?” Charlie said. “He really put you in a bad spot. He shouldn’t have done it, but he was trying to help you.”
“It doesn’t sound like him, though,” Neecy said. “It makes me see him in a whole other way. I don’t respect him for doing this. I could always count on him to be fair in the past. This isn’t fair.”
“Well, whatever you decide, I’ve got your back,” Charlie said. “I’ll talk to you later.”
Neecy could barely concentrate on her homework. She was too distracted by the dilemma she faced.
She worked hard in her others classes. She got the grades she deserved. Thank goodness those grades were good enough to maintain her GPA. But math? There was no way she deserved that C. She knew it. Mr. Sullivan knew it too. It seemed so unlike him to do something so wrong.
Neecy stared out of her window, wondering what to do. In the distance she saw a Metro bus pull up to the corner. Her mother got off. She looked tired, as she often did, making her way to their apartment from her job as a secretary for the federal government.
Neecy knew that her mother was desperate for Neecy to receive the D.C. Stars scholarship. In fact, her mother was more anxious about it than Neecy was. The last thing she wanted to do was tell her mother about the math grade. She was afraid her mother would want her to keep her mouth shut. And she knew how much that would destroy her respect for her mother.
She heard the front door open. She could hear her mother’s slow footsteps coming up the stairs.
“Neecy? You home?” her mother called out. “In here,” Neecy said, not getting up.
“So? How’d you do?” her mother asked. Silently, Neecy handed over the report card. She watched as her mother searched for the grade point average.
“Yes,” her mother yelled, pumping a fist in the air. “You did it! I have to say, I was a little worried. I mean, not worried, exactly. But it just didn’t seem like you were studying as much. If you don’t get this scholarship, I mean—I know you’ll get it, you’re a good girl, a smart girl—”
“Mom, stop,” Neecy said loudly. “Just stop it!”
“Well, I’m sorry, but I was just so worried. You know this report card is so important—”
“Mom, this report card is a lie. My math grade isn’t right.”
Neecy’s mother was quiet for a moment. “Well, maybe you did better than you thought?” she said.
“No, I know exactly what grade I deserved,” Neecy said dejectedly. “And it wasn’t a B. The grade is too high.”
“Too … too high?” her mother asked.
“Too high,” Neecy repeated. “There is no way I have a C in math. I got a D. I saw it online the day before grades were posted. Something’s wrong, and I don’t know what to do about it.”
Her mother was quiet for a moment. “So if the grade is wrong and it gets corrected …” she said.
Neecy could see her mother’s shoulders sag as the knowledge sunk in of what a lower grade would do to her average. They looked at each other silently for a moment.
“What are you going to do?” her mother asked finally.
“I want to keep the grade,” Neecy said. “But it doesn’t seem right,” she added in a whisper.
Neecy’s mother was silent.
“Oh, Mom, I know I’m letting you down,” Neecy said, tears coming to her eyes. “But this is wrong.”
“Do you think I’m going to be disappointed in you for telling the truth?” her mother asked. “Really?”
“What do you want me to do?” Neecy asked.
“You know what? I’m not going to tell you what to do,” her mother answered. “I’ll just lay out the facts. You got a grade you didn’t deserve. I don’t know how that happened or why. I just know what you’re telling me: your math grade is not correct. So you have two choices. You can keep silent, get your scholarship, and know—for the rest of your life—that your success was built on a lie.”
Neecy sat on the edge of her bed and put her face in her hands.
“Or you can tell someone at the school that a mistake has been made and get the grade corrected. There’s a high price for each choice. On the one hand, the cost of getting the grade changed is huge—four years of college costs. Money that you won’t get for college otherwise. On the other hand, you have to think about the cost to your conscience. But in the end it’s your choice. Either way, you’re losing something. It’s just a question of what’s most important.”
“Mom, I’m so sorry,” Neecy said. “I blew this scholarship thing. And it was such a gift.”
“It was a gift,” her mother agreed. “I’m not sure it’s totally blown, since you still have another marking period to get your grades up. But it’s up to you. Either way, you have to live with your decision for the rest of your life.”
Neecy covered her face with her hands. “So you won’t tell me what I should do?” she asked miserably.
“If I told you, it would be my decision, not yours. And you could blame me for the rest of your life,” her mother said. “This is far too serious to have someone else decide for you. I’m sorry, but this is what real life is. Stuff happens, and there’s no one but you to handle it. Sounds cold, but that’s life. I’m going to go take off my shoes and make us some dinner.”
Neecy didn’t look up as her mother left the room. She was more confused than ever.