The Total Tragedy of a Girl Named Hamlet by Erin Dionne Read Free Book Online Page A

off keeping my knowledge to myself. “It’s no big deal.”
    “Said well by the girl with the guy’s name,” KC responded, voice too low for the teacher to hear.
    I wanted to slug him. I settled for glaring in his direction.
    “Hamlet is quite correct,” Mrs. Wimple said. “It’s good to see that you feel comfortable sharing your knowledge of Elizabethan history. So perhaps you would like to read Hermia’s lines instead?” She gave a little flourish with her hand for emphasis.
    I could feel everyone staring at me. If my face got any hotter it would melt everything in a four-seat radius.
    “Uh, well . . .” I started. Reading Shakespeare in my house was a sport left to the professionals. I’d attended enough plays and read-throughs to last a lifetime, and had been forced, on two occasions, to play the role of “a soldier” in a dinnertime scene execution of—yes— Hamlet . I felt fine sitting this one out. “Uh, I think Ty will do a great job.” I hoped he’d forgive me for throwing him back under the bus.
    “Then perhaps you’ll read Hippolyta for us, instead of Julie.”
    “Well,” I tried. I glanced at Ty for help, but he was staring at a spot on the blackboard. Payback. “I’d rather . . .”
    “Good,” she said, snipping the word like her lips were scissors. “Let’s begin, then.”
    I flipped to the beginning of the play. Theseus was talking about a wedding.
    KC was reading Theseus like he was acting on a soap opera. “Now, fair Hippolyta, our nuptial hour”—he waggled his eyebrows at me—“draws on apace . . .”
    “Respectfully, please,” Mrs. Wimple corrected.
    “Long withering out a young man’s revenue,” KC finished. I noticed that when he wasn’t overdoing it, his voice sounded kind of warm reading the lines. Like honey.
    Ew! I snapped out of some sort of Shakespeare-spell. KC was more like pickles than honey—sharp and stand outy. Now Carter, on the other hand . . . he was like frosting: good to look at and sweet. Just thinking about him listening to me read made the back of my neck feel warm. My turn. I took a breath.
    “Four days will quickly steep themselves in night/ Four nights will quickly dream away the time: and then the moon—like a silver bow/New-bent in heaven—shall behold the night of our solemnities.” Theseus was supposed to speak next. I waited for KC’s line. He didn’t come in.
    I glanced up.
    Everyone in the class, including Mrs. Wimple, was staring at me. If my life was actually a cartoon, instead of just feeling like one, their jaws would be on the floor. Even Ty was gawking.
    “Uhhh,” I mumbled, feeling sweat bead on the back of my neck. Had I missed a line?
    My noise thawed Mrs. Wimple from her freeze. “Well, Ms. Kennedy. I am impressed. How have you hidden this talent from us?” Her eyebrows bunched tight over her nose. I couldn’t tell if she was mad or complimenting me. I turned to Ty, hoping he could explain. I’d never had Mrs. Wimple as a teacher before—and I wasn’t hiding anything from anyone. What was going on?
    The bell rang, ending class and busting the exaggerated stares. Backpacks were stuffed and zippered, and everyone started to leave. I also packed up.
    “Hamlet, I’d like to speak with you for a moment,” Mrs. Wimple said from her desk. I turned to Ty, who was half out of his chair.
    “What is UP ?” I hissed.
    “Your reading,” he whispered back, looking over his shoulder to Mrs. Wimple.
    “ So?” What had I done?
    “Hamlet,” he said gently. Ty never called me Hamlet. “You read it perfectly .”
    “So?” What was the big deal?
    “Mr. Spencer,” Mrs. Wimple said, smoothing the front of her denim jumper, “I believe you’ll be late to your next class if you don’t move along.” Ty scooted out of the room, leaving me with an apologetic glance and mouthing the word “lunch.” I nodded, and then brought my stuff up to Mrs. Wimple’s desk.
    She was just sitting there, waiting for me, eyes