Free The Bone Dragon by Alexia Casale Page A

. . .’
     
    ‘Let’s stop there for a moment,’ Ms Winters interrupts. ‘Who can tell me what this is all about? What is Hamlet asking when he delivers that famous question?’
    No one puts up their hand. I sigh but I don’t want to raise mine. Not after just reading aloud.
    Some of the class are funny about me liking English so much. Not just Fred and Sonny Rawlins: I wouldn’t really care if it was just them. But the last thing I want right now is to stick out even more than I do anyway after the operation, even if it is in a good way, like being clever enough to know what Shakespeare means.
    ‘Jenny, what do you think?’
    Jenny stares wall-eyed at Ms Winters. ‘He’s not sure that war is a good thing?’
    Ms Winters smiles. ‘Actually, that’s not such a bad way to put it. But it’s a little bit metaphorical . . . What sort of war is he talking about? Lynne, what do you think?’
    Lynne elbows me as if I can somehow whisper the answer without Ms Winters hearing. ‘Um . . .’ she dithers. ‘Well, I guess . . .’ She nudges her notebook in my direction.
    Revenge 4 dad , I scribble, pretending to stretch my other arm to hide the movements of my pen.
    ‘He’s . . .’ Lynne’s eyes flick down to the page. ‘It’s about getting revenge for his father. Because his uncle killed his father and that’s who the ghost is, right?’
    ‘Partly,’ says Ms Winters, shooting me a look that plainly says ‘Very subtle, Evie’ before she turns to the blackboard. ‘That is part of it . . . But what’s the point of this particular section? Anyone?’
    I raise my hand in the silence, speaking before Ms Winters has even given me the nod. ‘But isn’t it about revenge?’ I insist, both confused and upset to have given Lynne the wrong answer. ‘Only he’s torn between what it’ll cost him: he’s afraid of losing even more than he already has. Isn’t that what it’s about? Whether he should hold on to what he’s got – Ophelia and his friends and his place in the kingdom – or go after what the ghost is demanding? Isn’t the problem that he doesn’t know whether justice is worth all that?’
    Ms Winters smiles. ‘Well, you’re not wrong about that being one of the questions that torments Hamlet throughout the play, as he struggles to decide what to do . . . But I don’t think that’s what this bit is really about. Have another look.’
    I slump back in my chair with a frustrated sigh. Lynne nudges my foot with hers.
    ‘Sorry,’ I whisper.
    She shrugs, grinning to show there are no hard feelings.
    ‘Why “To be or not to be”?’ Ms Winters is asking. ‘Why not “To do or not to do” if it’s revenge he’s talking about?’
    ‘’Cos it sounds better?’ Jenny suggests. Tucking her chin in towards her chest, she pulls a suspicious face at her book as if it requires careful watching.
    Several people, Ms Winters included, laugh. ‘That may have played a role . . . But the way this soliloquy is generally understood is that Hamlet is talking about suicide.’
    I lose what she says next as I frown down at my book. I still don’t get why my idea wasn’t just as valid.
    ‘Now who can give me another line from this soliloquy – remember that word from last week? – that’s part of the same theme about escaping from troubles through death?’
    ‘“The oppressor’s wrong”?’ Phee whispers to me. I nod quickly, but before Phee has even put up her hand, Sonny Rawlins is calling the words out.
    All three of us turn to glare at him. He grins back and gives us the finger under the cover of his desk.
    ‘Yes,’ says Ms Winters, though her voice isn’t as encouraging as normal: as I know all too well, Ms Winters doesn’t miss much. ‘Can you extend that phrase and give me the whole of the bit that you think is important?’
    Sonny Rawlins shoots a glare at me as if this is my fault. ‘“The . . . the proud man’s . . . con . . . contumely?”’
    He pronounces it