pushed the button harder, and when the window still didn’t move, he stared at me.
“Why is this locked?” He slapped at the thin plate of plastic with his palm, calling, “Lower this right now!” When nothing happened, he turned to me. “Who’s up there?”
I opened my mouth but could not admit to my crime.
He reached into his pocket and I thought he might be grabbing for his gun. My hands flew to cover my head, and a strangled cry escaped my throat. But if he was going to shoot, he changed his mind and instead began pounding the black partition wildly, his face reddening.
“Enough!” I yelled, both to Hamlet and to my father, who I hoped could still hear.
There was a click and a whir as the partition began to lower, revealing a full front seat. Hamlet’s look wasn’t even angry at first, just blank. Then the scale of my betrayal sank in, and he reached for the door handle. He opened the door and looked as if he were going to jump out while the car was charging down the street. My father yelled, and the driver slammed on the brakes, throwing us all forward. Hamlet fell against my seat. He scrambled up and grabbed at me. Holding me down, he snarled, “You two-faced bitch!” His weight pressed down, pushing the air out of my lungs. His face was twisted with fury, and in his eyes was more pain than I thought could be expressed in a look.
My father, who had been in the middle seat, was trying to grab Hamlet through the now-open partition while Claudius jumped out of the car and opened the door. Hamlet got off me, pushed Claudius out of the way, and managed to close and lock the doors. Hamlet took my father by the shoulders and shoved him so hard that his back hit the dashboard. Then Hamlet raised and locked the partition.
I could hear my father pounding as I whispered to Hamlet, “I’m sorry.” Guilt and terror were fighting equally inside me.
He grabbed my shirt collar and pulled himself close to my face again. “If you ever manage to find someone else to be with,” he began, spitting venom with every word, “no matter what you do, this will follow you. You will never be able to undo it.” His grip tightened, and my shirt cut into the back of my neck. He face was red, and veins were popping at the temples. “And if you ever find someone to marry, make sure he’s a fool, because anyone with half a brain knows that women screw up men’s lives.”
He let go, and I scooted into the corner away from him, but he dove at me again. “Why don’t you become a nun? Or a whore? Seems sometimes you are both, no?” The first smile crept across his face, only it wasn’t the least bit joyful or kind. He mused on, “Better a nun. Why would you want to bring more sinners into the world?” He patted my stomach, then let his hand drift lower. I tried to push his hand away, but he gripped my jeans, his fingers digging into my flesh. Then he released me and reached for the button to open the sunroof.
I was breathing hard, terrified. As he waited for it to open, I pleaded, “I’m sorry. They made me—”
“I can’t take this anymore,” he muttered as he climbed onto the roof. “You’re making me crazy with these lies!”
I scrambled to unlock the door and bolted out. Hamlet had climbed on the top of the car, attracting the attention of passersby who had not already stopped to watch when our car slammed to a halt and the king emerged unannounced onto the street. Hamlet had his arms up in the air and was addressing the crowd. “I say no one else should marry. Everyone who’s married already, except one,” he declared, pointing at Claudius, “should go on living as they are, but no one else can marry.” He jumped onto the hood of the limo and pointed at me. “Go become a nun, you whore!” he shouted, and ran down the street toward the subway.
“Love?” Claudius yelled at my father. “You still think he’s insane with love?” His look was of pure disrespect and distaste for my father, and for me, too. “The kid’s just plain insane. And violent. You heard that threat. He means to do all of us harm. I’m sending Hamlet to England. He’ll be on