betrayed him.”
“Even you?” Zara asks with a twinkle in her eye.
Ophelia sighs, then her chin begins to tremble. “Yeah.”
Zara hands her a tissue. “In what way?”
“I didn’t believe him when he told me there was gonna be trouble.”
That night, against my better judgment, I called Hamlet’s cell phone. Each mini-click after the ring sent my heart into my throat. By the time his voice-mail message came on, I was barely able to stand. “Okay. You’re not there. Or you can see it’s me and you’re not picking up. Probably that. I wouldn’t pick up if I were you. So, well, here’s the thing. You were right. Your mother and Claudius blackmailed me. There’s this video. Of us. God, you knew I couldn’t deal with being embarrassed, and look what I did. I’m so sorry.”
I was standing outside myself, distracted by my own lameness.
“I’m not sure where you are, but when you get this, could you just call? You probably don’t want to. I wouldn’t blame you if you never wanted to talk to me again, but… Listen, if I don’t hear from you in two days, I’ll have my answer. Okay? If I don’t hear from you within two days, I’ll know we’re really through and… I’ll leave you alone.”
Three days later, I still hadn’t heard from Hamlet or Horatio. I had kept to myself, staying out of my father’s sight, not talking to anyone at school, literally hiding in stairwells and bathrooms until the bell rang. But on the third day, I picked myself up and tried to act normal again. If a walk of a thousand miles begins with just one step, I figured the road to recovering from Hamlet might begin by getting out of his world.
I got to first-period art history early for the first time in a while, and though Mr. Norquest didn’t say anything, he did raise his eyebrows as I took my seat next to my friends Lauren and Sebastian.
“Wanna ditch PE and grab coffee after class? You look terrible,” Sebastian whispered as the lights dimmed for a slide show.
“Thanks,” I whispered back, elbowing his ribs. “Coffee sounds good.” The circles under my eyes had grown rather pronounced, and I rubbed my face, hoping to stay awake in the darkened classroom.
Mr. Norquest intoned, “Note the difference between Ingres’s Grande Odalisque and Manet’s Le déjeuner sur l’herbe, or The Lunch on the Grass. This painting caused quite a stir when it was unveiled. Comments?”
The class pontificated about the sexism in having the woman nude while the men were clothed, admired her direct gaze, and noted the fact that in Manet’s painting the woman seemed comfortable among the men. Additionally, students observed that she was clearly of their class, unlike the classic odalisques who were exotic slaves meant to be pitied while lusted after.
When the teacher called on me, I admitted in a rare moment of truth, “Sometimes I feel like her.”
“Why is that?” he asked, pulling his glasses off and tucking them into his pocket.
I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Regretting I had spoken up, I shrugged and slumped a little in my seat.
Sebastian nudged me and whispered, “Go on.”
I sat up slightly and fortified myself. “She’s so exposed, and everyone is completely casual about the fact.”
“But is she bothered by it?” prodded Mr. Norquest, leaning against an empty chair in the first row.
“Not always easy to tell just by an expression,” I mused. “Maybe she’s used to playing their game, hiding her true self.”
Mr. Norquest nodded and looked back at the painting, wondering at this perspective.
“Or maybe she really likes being the center of attention,” retorted a snippy girl with purple hair sitting right in front.
“At least she doesn’t have to dye her hair crazy colors to get people to look at her,” I jabbed.
Mr. Norquest’s head whipped around and he shot me a look. Dye Job was one of his favorites, and I was not to mess with her. I slumped down in my seat again as Lauren snickered.
“You’re awesome,” Sebastian whispered to me when the next picture flashed on-screen. When Lauren rolled her eyes at him, he muttered, “What? She is.”
“You don’t have to try so hard. She already knows you’re in love with her.”
It was true. I did. That said, I didn’t want to think about love or boys or the trouble both brought, so I slumped further in my seat and let the two of them whisper-fight over my head until Mr. Norquest shushed them.
I