our viewers would agree.”
Ophelia lowers her head but doesn’t say anything.
Zara adds, “As would the folks at Courtier Magazine, who named him Sexiest Bachelor of the Year.”
The audience sighs as Zara holds up the cover.
Zara crosses her legs and leans back. “You and Hamlet broke up a few times.”
Ophelia nods.
“Yet you kept getting back together. Why?”
“We made each other happy… most of the time.”
Zara raises her eyebrows and asks, “And the rest of the time?”
“It was complicated.” Ophelia turns quickly and looks over her shoulder. “You’re not going to get Dr. Dave out here to analyze the relationship, are you?”
Zara laughs. “No, but that’s a great idea. Would you come back?”
“Uh… we’ll see.”
After Hamlet finished packing for his sophomore year at Wittenberg College, we sat in the conservatory looking at pictures from our vacation on his camera. I was just recalling my irritation at Gertrude’s intrusion when Hamlet made the mistake of trying to get me excited about my last year of high school.
“It’s gonna fly by. Senior year’s awesome.”
To me, senior year had become like a vacation you’re looking forward to, but when you finally get there, you find out the hotel’s pool is closed and the sights looked better in the brochures. The thing is, I had done most of the great stuff when Hamlet was graduating and, more than anything, I just felt ready to move on.
“Even if it’s fun and whatever, you know my dad says I can only go to Denmark State after I graduate.”
“So you’ll go there. They’ve got classes, books, parties.”
“It’s a commuter college. Nothing like Wittenberg. Your school is gorgeous. Everyone’s relaxed, hanging out on the quad. And you can practically smell the money.”
“And you can’t here?” he asked, his arm sweeping toward the elaborate fountain at the far end of the courtyard. He knew I loved it in that room. The exotic flowers’ perfume filled the air, and enormous leaves drooped low across the paths, making it one of the only private public spaces in the castle.
I shook my head, completely annoyed beyond what was called for. The thought of another year in the castle with Gertrude watching my every move, another year without Hamlet, another year of surveillance cameras and bodyguards, was getting under my skin. “This isn’t mine.”
“And Wittenberg’s not mine.”
“You know what I mean,” I said, getting up angrily to go. All I could think was that everything I could see was actually his mother’s. I imagined she would have been hovering at that moment if not for a ladies’ luncheon that she was obliged to attend.
“Phee, come on,” he called after me. I kept walking, so he gave chase. “I know it’s not the same. It’s a joke.”
I spun around, whacking at a large leaf that dared to hang near my head. “It’s not funny to me. Denmark State sucks.”
“So don’t go there.”
“The only place I want to go is Wittenberg, and my father won’t let me.”
“Wittenberg’s a great school. What’s Polonius’s problem?”
“Duh… you’re there, you idiot. My father wants to keep us apart. It’s what he’s always wanted.”
“And with good cause,” he said, stepping forward and slipping his hand under my shirt.
“Jesus, Hamlet,” I said, pushing it away. “Not here.” I looked at the glass conservatory door, hoping no security guard was passing by.
“You’re so paranoid,” he whispered in my ear.
A chill ran through my body as he kissed my neck. “Not without reason.” He smiled that deadly smile and I whispered, “Let’s at least go downstairs,” and grabbed him by his T-shirt.
As we walked out into the hallway, he asked, “Why do you listen to Polonius? If you want to come to Wittenberg, come to Wittenberg.”
“You know that’s impossible. My father would cut me off.”
“So what?”
“How would I pay for Wittenberg without money?” I asked, punching the elevator button so hard, I broke a nail.
“I’ll pay.”
I scoffed. “I can’t let you do that.”
“Why not?”
“Whose boyfriend pays for her to go to college?”
“Who else is dating a prince?” he asked.
My mouth twisted into a smile rather against my will. “Good point, but no. It’d be too weird.”
Hamlet shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
The elevator doors opened on Claudius and the king. Though they were silent when the doors opened, it was clear they had been arguing, as they were both slightly red-faced and the king’s hands were clenched awkwardly. “Father!” Hamlet exclaimed, taking his hand off my back.
“Are you two coming in?” Claudius asked.
“No, we’ll wait,” said Hamlet, looking from one man to the other.
“Don’t be absurd,” the king