throat. “I’m seeing this through. Go back with everyone else.”
“Damn it,” Horatio said, and the thumping commenced as he moved away from Hamlet.
The picture came up again. Hamlet was released and cut toward the goal. His teammate cradled the ball, then passed back to Hamlet. Hamlet shot and scored.
Time was called, ending the quarter, and someone nearby pronounced it a thrilling game.
Claudius called out, “Hamlet, you’ve won this pearl. Come have a drink.”
Hamlet had walked to the sidelines next to Horatio. I couldn’t see him, since Horatio kept the camera pointed at the king, but I heard Hamlet say, “Maybe later.”
Claudius smiled at Gertrude and said to her loudly, “Our son will win.”
I winced involuntarily at the word son, and if Horatio had been filming Hamlet, I imagine it would have shown him cringing as well.
Gertrude blinked rapidly as she stared at her husband, then at Hamlet. She wrung her kerchief in her hands and called out to Hamlet, “Come, my dear, let me give you a kiss for good luck.” I heard Hamlet snap his tongue in response, and Gertrude winced. Then she took hold of the cup Claudius had been offering to Hamlet. “Sweetheart, I drink to your fortune.”
Claudius grabbed her arm and snapped, “Gertrude, don’t.” After a momentary pause, his eyes flicking to the crowd, he added, “You know how you get when you drink.”
Gertrude’s anger flared even as she took in the students and parents staring at her. “I will,” she said, straightening up, and pulled her arm back. “Pardon me.”
Claudius’s eyes widened and his mouth opened as if to speak. He said nothing, nor did Hamlet, but both kept their eyes fixed on her.
Gertrude drank deeply, put down the cup, and called out again, “Hamlet, let me wipe your face.”
“I’m fine,” he called out, and she turned, putting her hand to her stomach.
Why would she— I thought as Horatio said quietly, “Oh no.”
Laertes walked up to Claudius and said, “My lord, I’ll hit him now.”
Was he asking permission to check or punch Hamlet? It looked to me like he was going after Hamlet as he pleased. I realized I was holding my breath.
Claudius was cagey, his gaze fixed on Hamlet. “I don’t think so.” Laertes looked at him and at Hamlet again, his eyes narrowing with fury.
The whistle blew to start the second quarter, and the teams took the field, though neither Hamlet nor Laertes moved.
Hamlet glared at Claudius and then Laertes. He urged, “Come on. Let’s finish this.”
Laertes tapped his own shoulder with the crosse a few times and nodded. Hamlet looked at his mother, shrugged weakly at Horatio, and said, “I guess… It’ll be fine,” before running onto the field.
The game began again, and I marveled, as I often did, at its speed. Their footwork was incredibly quick. Players pivoted around one another, their sticks moving as fast as swords, sometimes overhead, sometimes to the side, always amazing. The ball whipped from one pocket to the other so quickly that sometimes I couldn’t even follow who had the ball. Nor could Horatio.
A guy I recognized from my math class was scooping up the ball when off to the side of the screen I saw Hamlet crumple to the ground. I heard Horatio gasp. Laertes was sprinting away. Hamlet did not get up but held his side, knees to his chest. From the sound of it, the game was continuing on the other side of the field, but the teammates and opponents closest to Hamlet crept closer. Horatio ran onto the field, and the picture went nuts. Grass. Sky. Grass. Sky. Grass. Sky. As Horatio knelt beside Hamlet, he must have shoved the phone into his pocket, and everything went black.
The sound was really muffled, so I plugged my free ear and was able to make out Horatio asking, “Hamlet, is that blood?” Hamlet groaned, and Horatio added, “It’s not that deep. No, don’t look at—It’ll be all right.”
What had happened? How did Hamlet get cut?
“Laertes!” Hamlet yelled. “You coward. Don’t you slice me open and then run!”
My brother did it? How?
Horatio said to Hamlet, “There’s a blade attached to the end of his stick. We need to get out of here. Now.”
My first thought was that my brother was going to end up in jail. His life would be ruined, and all because of that horrible family. Then I realized I didn’t hear guards grabbing him. I was relieved, but it made no sense.
The crowd had grown silent.
“You don’t ruin my family and