turned his back to it and lowered his voice. “I can’t tell you that.” Then he added, even softer, “But I can tell you there are more than you think.”
My gaze met his. I chewed on my lips and absently twisted one leg around the other. Gripping the railing, I tried to remember what I had seen in that brief moment in the security room. Elevators, the rooftop, offices. What else? The lobby, the old castle’s staircase. It was too quick. Had I seen any of the residences? I couldn’t remember.
“What specifically are you asking about?” he asked.
My face flushed. “I was just wondering what they’ve seen… of me and, uh…” I wanted to fold into myself rather than finish the sentence. “Hamlet.”
Marcellus’s eyes widened in understanding, and he looked away. Did it mean he had seen it and was embarrassed to tell me? Or was he embarrassed by my asking? By the time he spoke, his face had settled into professional neutrality.
“I’m not aware of anything that would… cause you special concern. But since Hamlet is my charge, I can ask around.”
“They’ll know I’m the one who wants to know,” I answered.
“Let me handle the others. I’ve been here longer than most. Though you wouldn’t know it, since the king—” He stopped himself. “I’ll get back to you.”
I nodded and pinched my eyes shut again at the thought of my dad seeing anything that I did with Hamlet.
Marcellus leaned in close and whispered, “Meantime, Ophelia, watch your step ’round here. I can’t say I understand anyone’s motivations anymore.”
If he were a different man, he might have patted my shoulder or cheek. But he stood rod-straight and strode back into the hall toward the security room.
The next morning, when Hamlet saw me sitting in the limo, he started to walk away.
“Please come in,” I called after him.
He hesitated.
“Just let me ride with you, okay?” I asked, trying to sound calm. “We need to talk.”
His jaw was clenched and his face was flushed, but he got in anyway. Dark purple circles rimmed his bloodshot eyes, and his hair was completely askew. His clothes were even more wrinkled than the day we’d spoken outside the theater, and I had to wonder again where he was living. Somewhere in the castle, I assumed, but not, perhaps, in his room. But why had he stopped taking care of himself completely? Gone was the effortlessly hot guy I’d known forever, replaced by someone who seemed to find living itself a trial.
My heart was pounding. I wanted to reach up and turn off the intercom, to grab Hamlet and kiss him despite all that had happened. But the thought of the video and of being kicked out of my home kept me in my place, literally and figuratively. The limo began to move. I thought of the crowded seat up front and prayed it would be a short, painless, fruitless drive that would be enough to get those intrusive men off my back.
“You getting any sleep?” I asked, barely above a whisper.
He shrugged.
“Are you eating?”
“A little.”
I bit my lip. “I’m worr—”
“No you’re not. And if you wanted to check up on me, you could have just asked Marcellus,” he snapped. “What do you really want, Ophelia?”
I reached deep inside myself for the strength to tell a string of lies. “Hamlet, I wanted to give you back some of your things. Some of the gifts you…” I opened my backpack and pulled out a T-shirt from a band we’d seen play and some CDs he’d burned for me, all of which I was finding especially hard to offer over at that moment. Pretending to not want those treasures, knowing my father and Claudius were on the other side of the partition listening to my every word, my stomach ached.
“I never gave you those,” he said, looking with irritation out the window.
This surprised me more than anything else he could have said. Did he know someone was listening? Was he just being contrary? Was he accusing me of cheating? I tried not to show my shock, and replied, “You know you did. They were heartfelt and I loved them when you gave them to me.” I thought of his face as he had walked away from me outside the theater and tried to use that image to help me continue with what I was supposed to say. “But now… since we’re not together, I don’t want them. I can’t even look at them anymore.” He didn’t move to