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

glittering behind her round glasses. I couldn’t read her expression—her lips were pressed into a line, but her cheeks were bunched tight, as though she was trying not to smile. She folded her hands on top of her ragged copy of Midsummer .
    “So, Ms. Kennedy, have you been studying the play outside of class? Or acting in it?”
    I shook my head, still confused. “I’m not sure what you mean,” I pleaded. “Honest. Ty said something about the way I read, but I didn’t do anything special. Just looked at the lines.” My hands were sweating. I still needed to get my sister and walk her to her next class.
    Mrs. Wimple sighed. “It’s all right if you like Shakespeare,” she said. “You don’t have to pretend that you don’t. If you’re practicing with your parents, I’d just like to know the strategies you’re using.” She leaned against the back of her chair and dropped her hands to her lap.
    “But I’m not!” Why wouldn’t she believe me? Would Dezzie make it to TLC okay without me? “My parents read the play to me before, but that was almost three years ago. Today I just flipped through the scene and checked my lines while KC was reading.” I picked up her copy of the play and turned the pages like I had in class. The late bell buzzed and I jumped.
    “I’ll give you a pass,” she said. “This is my free period. Finish showing me what you did, but pick another scene.”
    The last thing I wanted to do was read more Shakespeare—my mouth was so dry that I was sure my tongue was made of sand, but the rest of me was sweating like I’d just been hit by a wave. I turned one more page, then scanned the words. It was the scene after Puck gives Bottom a donkey’s head. Mrs. Wimple leaned over. I tilted the book toward her.
    “Read Puck,” she instructed.
    I sighed and swallowed, trying to get rid of that gritty-mouth sensation.
    “I’ll follow you, I’ll lead you about a round, through bog, through brush, through brake, through brier./Sometime a horse I’ll be, sometime a hound, a hog, a headless bear, sometime a fire;/and neigh, and bark, and grunt, and roar, and burn, like horse, hound hog, bear, fire at every turn.” Mrs. Wimple was watching me covetously, like I was a rare species of child first discovered in her classroom.
    “See? I read it.”
    “You didn’t read it, Hamlet,” she said, smile finally splitting her face. “You performed it. Quite beautifully.” The way she said that made my stomach feel like someone had filled it with slippery fish. “I don’t understand,” I said, hoping for another explanation—one that would make sense and get rid of the uncomfortable shaking in my gut. I’d spent my whole life avoiding the Bard, and this was like finding out we were related.
    “You may have read the lines from the text,” Mrs. Wimple said. “But your inflection, pronunciation, and emotional content brought the character to life .” Her face broke open into another wide smile, which made that stomach of sea creatures splash into my feet. “Shall we try it again?”
    “I know what I did,” I snapped, anger busting through the fear. “I read . And I don’t want to do it again.” Suddenly, all I wanted was to be sitting in Mr. Symphony’s class, fumbling through pre-algebra. I tried to control my voice. “May I have a pass, please?”
    “You have a gift, Hamlet, that you are surely wasting. It might seem like a burden now, but it is something that you owe yourself to explore. When you are adult enough to discuss it, let me know.”
    “I’d like a pass,” I stated more firmly, staring at a spot over her head. “I need to go.”
    Mrs. Wimple made a hissing tsk-noise at my borderline disrespect. But she pulled out her pass packet and scribbled a note to Mr. S. When she handed it to me, I spun on my heels and walked out as fast as I could.
    The deserted halls echoed with the murmurs coming from the classrooms. I went straight for the girls’ bathroom on the second