Falling for Hamlet - By Michelle Ray Page 0,28

were pissed, which seemed unfair because I’d lost someone, too (though not an actual parent, so I guess everyone else saw it differently), and if I’d been taking any tough classes, my grades would have slipped. It did occur to me that it was probably a good thing that I wouldn’t be going to Wittenberg with him. My father, I begrudgingly admitted, might have been right about that after all.

Given my efforts to help Hamlet, I was slightly disappointed when we were swinging on the hammock on my balcony and he announced, “Being around the castle is too depressing. I’ve decided to go back to school.”

“I thought…” I began. “I thought we were doing all right.”

He ran his fingers along my thigh. “It’s not you. It’s my mother and my uncle. One of them is always hassling me about going back to school or wanting to discuss my future. I’m sick of it. And when my mom isn’t crying, she shuts herself behind closed doors. Most of the time, she acts like she doesn’t want me around.”

Well, that’s a change, I thought. I couldn’t remember a single time when she hadn’t begged him to join her for a meal, tried to separate him from me, or otherwise sought him out. It didn’t make sense.

I asked, “Then who’s she turning to for comfort?”

“Claudius. She says he understands her… that he feels the same pain. But I don’t know what she’s talking about. His brother died, and I’ve never seen him cry or even look more than a little sad. And that’s only when someone else mentions what a loss it’s been. My uncle and I have never been close, but I’ve never wanted to be around anyone less.”

“Leaving’s probably best then,” I conceded, then snuggled tighter against his body, trying to soak in the last moments I thought we’d have together for a while.

Barnardo: Did you try to talk Hamlet out of being king?

Ophelia: Why would you even ask that?

Barnardo: Just wondering.

Francisco: You get into his head… make him doubt that it’s the right thing to do.

Barnardo: Hamlet hesitates, so Claudius takes over, driving Hamlet over the edge.

Ophelia: That’s not why Hamlet was pissed.

Francisco: Come on, all that power in the wrong hands.

Ophelia: Hamlet didn’t care about power.

Barnardo: What did he care about?

Ophelia: (pause) Me.

Barnardo: And look where that got him.

Ophelia: Does the DDI give lessons on cruelty or does it just come naturally to you?

8

“So, one minute we’re all mourning the death of the king, the next we’re hearing about a relationship between Gertrude and Claudius. When did you become aware of it?”

Ophelia smiles elusively. “Around the same time as everyone else.”

Watching two people kiss is about the most annoying thing ever, unless it’s in a movie. Somehow if it’s on-screen you can put yourself in the place of those beautiful people, and you can imagine the leading man running his fingers through your own hair, stroking your own face. You are suddenly gorgeous and the object of his desire, not sitting alone in sweatpants with racing stripes that you hope make your legs look thinner. But when a real couple is actually in front of you kissing, all you can think is, I’m right here! Take your big ol’ tongue out of her mouth.

Happening upon two people kissing who don’t want you to see them kissing is not only gross but really, really awkward. Such was the case when I walked into Gertrude’s sitting room and found her lip-locked with Claudius. I’m not sure who was less happy about it. She had asked me to come see her, so the fact was, she was expecting me. Why she wasn’t more careful if she didn’t want to get caught, I just don’t understand. Of course, I haven’t always been as careful in my life as I should be, so maybe it was a mistake. Does it even matter? I froze in my tracks and then left the room as fast as I could, all the while considering Hamlet’s reaction to this stunning turn of events. I couldn’t decide if he’d be more devastated or furious when he found out. I knew I was more disgusted than anything.

Unfortunately, running away wouldn’t do for Gertrude, who chased after me shouting my name.

“I’ll just… come back later!” I called behind me.

“Ophelia, stop!” she commanded, so I did. Her smile fixed, she suggested, “Let’s go shopping.”

“Uh, I’m swamped with work, so…”

“I’ll write you a note or something.”

“I’m already really behind—” I began.

She interrupted my

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