closed. Then I ran back to my room to text Hamlet about going out that night.
Francisco: Our records show that Gertrude took you shopping. Quite a bit, actually.
Barnardo: Seems odd.
Ophelia: Gertrude was odd. And manipulative.
Francisco: So she took you shopping to manipulate you?
Ophelia: Yeah.
Barnardo: She punished you with expensive dresses. Scary.
Ophelia: No, she took me with her to get information about my life and about her son.
Francisco: And you went along with it?
Ophelia: It was part of the game.
Barnardo: And it was fun to have expensive things.
Ophelia: Yeah.
Francisco: And a mother for a few hours.
Ophelia: That’s not how it was.
Barnardo: Oh come on. Every girl needs a mother.
Ophelia: Not one like Gertrude.
3
“So what was it like jetting all over the world with the royal family?” Two dome-haired women exchange wistful glances. Ophelia catches them, as does Zara. “Sounds like a fairy tale,” she says, beaming.
“Well, we didn’t actually go that many places.”
“Come now, Ophelia.” Photos are projected of the two families in Africa, China, and Paris. “What are all of these?”
“Official business,” Ophelia answers, her mouth drawn into a line, though she fights to turn it into a smile. “My father had to go, and sometimes he brought me and my brother along.”
Not to be hindered, Zara presses, “So did you and Hamlet ever get away? Just the two of you?”
“Once.”
“When you and Hamlet went to Florence? Last summer, right?” Ophelia nods. “Was that trip as romantic as it looks in this picture?” Zara winks and the audience oohs as a striking photo is shown of the couple on a flight of marble steps. They look tan and happy with their arms around each other, each wearing sunglasses and sandals, casually fabulous.
Ophelia smiles, relaxing a little. “Yeah. That was a great trip. That picture was taken our last day.”
“Was it a good day?”
“Perfect, start to finish.”
“So, Dad, what do you think?” I literally held my breath as I squeezed Hamlet’s hand. It had been a few weeks since my argument with Laertes, and things had been going so well with Hamlet. We had never been so at peace, never had so much fun. My father had seemed to notice and had been less wary of our being together. So when I asked if Hamlet and I could go on a vacation alone, I was fairly confident he would agree.
He nodded gravely. “Yes, that sounds fine.”
I clapped excitedly. “Thanks, Dad.”
“A few things first, though,” my father said, scooting forward. I felt Hamlet shift in his seat, but I elbowed him subtly and kept smiling. “It goes without saying that you will have separate rooms. And you need security with you at all times, even if they’re in plainclothes. You can never be too careful.”
“Polonius, we know,” Hamlet said with a sigh.
“Do you?” my father asked him, squinting and leaning farther toward us. “Has Marcellus told you about the latest rash of threatening mail your father has been getting?” Hamlet grew very still. “I thought not,” he said, leaning back again for emphasis. “And please, please remember that when you are abroad, you are representatives of your kingdom. Ambassadors, as it were. Thus, let me be clear”—and he leveled his gaze at Hamlet—“that you should behave accordingly.” Hamlet was fighting a smirk. “Plus you will be in charge of my daughter. See that neither of you embarrasses yourself, your parents, or Denmark.” His last words built to a crescendo, and I swear if he had pulled out a flag, I would not have been altogether surprised.
Once we were in the hall, Hamlet muttered sarcastically, “Well, that was fun.”
“Hey, at least he’s letting us go.”
Hamlet rolled his eyes and said, “I can’t wait till you’re out of high school and we’re free to do what we want.”
“You’re followed everywhere. We’ll never be that free.”
“Being followed doesn’t bother me. Neither do the tabloids. You’re the one who has to stop caring what everyone thinks.”
I was going to argue, but instead I started to laugh as a thought occurred to me. “We could scandalize everyone and run through Florence naked.”
Hamlet’s mouth twisted. “If you would agree, I would agree.”
Thing is, I knew he would. How he could be immune to public scrutiny amazed me.
“Maybe next time. Let’s go pack,” I suggested.
The trip was incredible. It was the first time Hamlet and I had slept in the same bed for a whole night, and to be honest, it was almost too shocking to enjoy. I couldn’t believe that my dad had allowed it. I mean, he