“I can’t breathe,
Hasnat!”
“Really?”
“No,
seriously! I can’t breathe.”
“You
are a pathetic drama queen, you know that?”
Hasnat
titters. “Maybe. I don’t know. But I feel like my lungs are coming out, man.”
“That
doesn’t mean you can’t breathe.”
“Come
on! Don’t be so rude. You know what I’m going through here.”
I
reach over and wrap my arm around his shoulders. “Alright. There there, don’t
start crying now.”
Hasnat
jabs me in the ribs.
“Ouch!
That hurt.”
“What?
I just jabbed you. It’s supposed to hurt.”
I
slap his back. He giggles.
“I
wish mom and dad were here,” Hasnat says.
“They
can’t miss office for this, can they?”
“Yeah.
I know. It’s actually better they’re not here.”
“What
do you mean?”
“I
mean, you know, they would’ve been disappointed.”
“Don’t
say that.”
“I’m
not like you, Habib. You got ninety-five percent marks. You topped in the whole
district. You made them proud.”
“And
who says you can’t?”
“I
don’t know. I’m not consistent like you. Always getting As. Always a topper.”
“Stop
it. Don’t compare yourself with me. Or anyone. You are unique. You are you.
Besides, not everyone has to be a topper in class tests, right? This is the
final exam. The big game. Anything can happen here.”
“Exactly.
Anything can happen.”
“No,
I meant… Come on, you’re being a depressed a-hole!”
“Wow.
When did you stop saying asshole?”
“I
don’t know. Just now, I guess.”
We
laugh.
Hasnat
takes a deep breath. “How much longer?”
“The
clock’s up there, bro. Right in front. You can look yourself.”
“I
know. I’m not looking at the clock now.”
“Why
not?”
“Because
that makes me nervous. Just tell me.”
I
smile and look at the clock. “Twelve twenty-two.”
“Gosh!
Eight more minutes. That means four hundred and eighty seconds.”
“Man!
You’re really nervous. Just chill, okay? Chill!”
“What
chill? How am I supposed to chill now?”
“Alright,
alright. Forget I said that. We’ll just wait.”
We
keep silent for seconds.
Hasnat
points at the laptop. “Is that the right website?”
I
glare.
“What?”
“Look
here.” I point at the leftmost corner of the screen. “See this logo? The map on
the red circle? The four stars? That’s the logo of our government.” I point at
the top of the screen. “Can you read what this says? Ministry of Education. Intermediate
and Secondary Education Boards Banglad—”
“Okay,
that’s enough. I got it. This is the right website.”
“You
know what? You need to stop thinking so much. Just clear your mind. Forget
everything.”
“Okay.”
“Don’t
look down. Look at me.”
Hasan
does.
“What
day is it?”
“Sunday.”
“The
date?”
“Twenty-first
of May. The result day.”
“No!
Don’t go there. I’m trying to… Sorry, it’s my fault I asked you the date. Never
mind. Hmm. Tell me…”
“What?
Say something.”
“Uh-huh.
Got it. What color is my eyes?”
Hasan
bursts into laughter.
“What
was that about? Hey!”
Hasan
leans back, clutching his belly with both hands, guffawing. Then he says, “You
took that line from Need for Speed,
didn’t you?”
“What?
No!”
“Don’t
lie to me. I remember that scene. A helicopter was carrying the car. Julia was
scared, so Toby told her to look into his eyes and—”
“And
then Toby said, “What color are they?” I remember that too. But I wasn’t
thinking about the movie, man!”
“You
were.”
“I
wasn’t.”
“Yes,
you were!”
“Oh,
God! Alright, you win.”
“Yay!”
Hasnat punches the air and goes “Wooooooo!” like a seven-year-old.
“Look
at you! Where’s the tension now, huh?”
“Yeah.
I feel lighter. Thanks, old brother.”
“You’re
most welcome. And what’s with the old
brother title? I’m just thirteen months older than you.”
“Okay.
How about li’l brother?”
“You
cheeky!”
I
reach over and try to punch him. He grabs a pillow and blocks my way. I punch
into the pillow, again and again. Then we’re sprawled on the bed together, side
by side, laughing, tears in our eyes.
“How
did you feel when you got it?” Hasan asks.
“Got
what?”
“The
result. When you saw you got marks like ninety-five, ninety-six, ninety-seven
in all the subjects. How was that feeling?”
I
look up at the ceiling. “I don’t know. Speechless, I guess. Pride was there.
Definitely. I felt like the proudest person on earth. Especially when I looked
at mom and dad and saw them so happy, it was satisfying, man!”
“Yeah.
I remember all of it. It was a weekend, wasn’t it? Mom and dad didn’t go to
work.”
“Yeah,
they were home. I was lucky.”
Hasnat
sighs.
I
turn and look at him. He’s looking to his right now, out the window. Probably
at the buildings outside, or nothing; just staring into space.
Sympathy
surges through me.
“Listen.”
Hasnat
turns.
“I
gotta tell you something. This might feel harsh, but it’s important.”
He
nods.
“No
matter what happens, just know I’m not giving up on you. Nether will mom and
dad. We won’t be disappointed. Because we believe in you, okay?”
He
nods, vaguely this time.
“Come
here.”
We
hug, me caressing his hair, him holding on to my back.
When
we part, Hasnat says, “I need to pee.”
“What?”
“You
heard me.”
I
stifle a grin. “Go quickly. It’s time, man!”
Hasnat
sprints for the toilet. He returns within a minute.
“Okay,
it’s time, right?” He looks confident.
“Yeah.”
“Let’s
do it.”
I
nod.
He
types the year, his roll number, his registration number, selects all the
images with Statues for Google reCAPTCHA, and looks at me. I nod reassuringly.
He takes a deep breath, then clicks Submit.
The
new page takes only seconds to appear.
“OH
MY GOD! OH MY GOD! Look! Ninety-seven, ninety-six, ninety-seven, ninety-eight,
ninety-five, ninety-five, ninety-seven, ninety-eight, ninety-seven, ninety-nine,
ninety-seven. And an average of ninety-six point two percent. I did it! I did it! I DID IT!”
Hasnat
jumps into my arms. I tell him, “Congratulations.”
I
don’t tell him that, when he was in the bathroom, I had filled all the blanks
and submitted the entry, because I knew all his numbers by heart. I don’t tell
him his marks made my skin crawl. I don’t tell him the feeling that surged
through me then wasn’t sympathy; it was something else.
Points: 335
Reviews: 59
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