As he clicked on the TV, I heard a reporter, glee in his voice, saying, “That kind of picture makes me wish I were back in college.”
A female reporter replied with mock concern, “That kind of picture makes me hope my daughters don’t want to go at all.” They chuckled, then her tone grew serious as she changed topics.
I stood on shaking legs and made my way back to Hamlet’s room. I put down the paper and the stinky towel and pulled my hair into a ponytail, trying to catch my breath. I was jealous of Hamlet’s sleep and furious that he wasn’t awake to share in this horrible moment. I was about to wake him when a ruckus outside caught my attention. I walked to the window and saw a white news van pulling up. Students passing by were stopping to watch, and one pointed to the window where I was standing. I was glad I had put on my pants. Another news van with an outsize satellite dish on top slowed, its brakes squealing.
I scooted to the side of the window and slid down the wall. “Hamlet. We are so dead.”
Three hours later, Elsinore’s skyline loomed overhead, making me feel as if I were at the bottom of a deep canyon. Horatio had an exam the next day, so he stayed. Hamlet, thinking himself gentlemanly, escorted me home in his limo.
“This was so stupid,” I muttered.
“It may have been stupid, but it sure was fun. I haven’t felt that happy and free in a while,” Hamlet said. He took my hand and I fought the urge to pull it back. Then I squeezed his fingers and tried to relax. What he said was cold comfort, but in a way, I guess I was glad. Despite the consequences, which I knew would be severe, we had accomplished what we had set out to do. We got Hamlet out of his head and we all had a night that wasn’t about our parents.
A text message binged at me. I pulled out my phone.
Laertes: R u stupid? what did I say?
I couldn’t face Laertes in any form just then, so I turned off the phone and shoved it back in my bag. I stared out the window at the shops I loved to go to. It occurred to me it might be a while before I was comfortable enough to show my face in public again.
The driver pulled into the underground garage, which was wise. Not exactly to our surprise, Gertrude, Claudius, and my father were all waiting by the elevator bank. The fluorescent lights made them look sallow and exaggerated their expressions, which ranged from irritation to dismay. I sank deeper in my seat, and Hamlet followed me down. He turned to me and stroked my cheek gently. “Hey,” he said, “no regrets, okay? I loved what you two did for me, making me go have fun. They’ll forget all about this, but I won’t.”
I knew he was wrong about anyone forgetting.
The car stopped, and my father didn’t even wait for the driver to open the door. He yanked it wide, and I knew I had to go first. I looked back at Hamlet, who winked. Claudius didn’t look at me, but Gertrude studied me as if to figure out what kind of fool had been in her presence for the past however many years. I looked away and followed my father.
No sooner had the elevator doors closed than he began shouting. “What kind of lunatic goes out in public dressed like that with the future king? What kind of person puts herself in a position to be so exposed?” We arrived in our apartment and he marched me into his study, where he continued. “You sell yourself short by becoming his plaything, and you made a fool out of me for trusting you!”
My body felt weak and I tingled from head to foot with nerves. “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry? You can never be sorry enough. I will be lucky if I maintain my post or am allowed to keep you in the castle at this point. If I were the king and queen, I wouldn’t allow it. If I were advising them on anyone but you, your removal is precisely what I would suggest.”
I opened my mouth to speak, but he would not let me.
“Do you not understand, Ophelia, that Hamlet, as a young man, and a prince at that, walks with a longer leash than may