‘You read books with coloured pictures?’ said Hamlet. ‘Prithee tell me, is thy school so lacklustre that they’ve failed to teach you letters?’

  Selby stepped out onto the shop floor and saw that he was talking to two teenage boys.

  ‘It’s called a graphic novel,’ said the teen.

  ‘Terminology does not increase its literary merit,’ said Hamlet. ‘My lad, to better yourself, you must read books by the greats.’

  ‘It is great,’ protested the teenager.

  ‘Nay, in this, you are wrong,’ said Hamlet, leading them to the classics section. ‘All that you need know of mankind and his many follies can be learned from this text.’

  He picked out a book and handed it to the teenager.

  ‘Plooo-tar-ch.’ The boy attempted to read the title.

  ‘Plutarch,’ Hamlet corrected him.

  The boy flicked through the pages.

  ‘It looks boring,’ said the boy.

  ‘Nonsense,’ said Hamlet. ‘These pages capture man’s very essence.’

  ‘Does it have action?’ asked the teen.

  ‘Or zombies?’ asked his friend.

  Hamlet snatched the book out of his hands. ‘Get thee gone. You are not worthy of literature. The hours your tutor spent teaching you to read were in vain. Education is wasted on one such as you.’

  The teenagers stood frozen.

  ‘Get thee gone, I say!’ bellowed Hamlet, whacking the boy on the shoulder with the copy of Plutarch.

  ‘Ow!’ cried the boy.

  ‘That’s assault,’ accused his friend.

  ‘Indeed it is!’ agreed Hamlet, whacking him too. ‘Just as talking with you is an assault upon mine ears.’

  ‘I’ll just get the graphic novel then,’ said the boy.

  ‘Never! There will be no books for you,’ declared Hamlet, snatching the graphic novel out of his hands. ‘Your shameless ignorance makes a mockery of this fine institution. Go – stand on the street where you belong!’ He whacked the boy again for good measure.

  ‘I’m telling the police you hit me,’ complained the boy.

  ‘Excellent!’ said Hamlet. ‘The police will have a sturdy stick with which to beat you harder.’

  The boys scurried away.

  ‘I like your new friend,’ said Dad. He was watching from behind the counter, grinning from ear to ear.

  ‘He just scared off two customers,’ said Selby.

  ‘Those boys never spend their money on books,’ said Dad. ‘They just stand and read them in the store.’

  ‘Still,’ said Selby. ‘He hit them.’

  ‘I wish I had the courage to do that too,’ said Dad wistfully.

  ‘You can’t beat the customers,’ said Selby.

  ‘I’ve often wanted to,’ said Dad.

  ‘What have you there, good woman,’ Hamlet asked, approaching Mrs Tink, who was looking at the novels in the romance section. ‘Egad! A story of romance? I beg you – do not indulge in this foul bilge.’

  ‘I like romance,’ said Mrs Tink.

  ‘Then you enjoy delusion?’ asked Hamlet. ‘For the happiness of man and woman bound together is a notion built on nothing but deceit. A fairytale used to beguile the common populace.’

  ‘It’s cheerful,’ argued Mrs Tink.

  ‘But what right have we to good cheer?’ asked Hamlet. ‘When we are surrounded by so much devilry.’

  ‘It’s because of all the devilry that I’d rather read a romance,’ said Mrs Tink.

  ‘My good woman,’ said Hamlet. ‘Then this book is no more to you than a tankard of ale to a drunk.’

  ‘I like drinking wine when I read them too,’ said Mrs Tink.

  ‘Then thou art a sop twice over,’ said Hamlet.

  ‘You are very rude,’ accused Mrs Tink.

  ‘That is what the Greeks told Socrates,’ said Hamlet, ‘right before they sentenced him to death for his honesty.’

  ‘So you’re saying, I shouldn’t get the book?’ asked Mrs Tink.

  ‘Nay, not at all,’ said Hamlet. ‘To sleep away thy waking hours is a sweet pastime for those whose muted conscience allows such unchecked folly.’

  ‘That’ll be $15.99, Mrs Tink,’ said Mum, taking the book out of her hand before Mrs Tink could change her mind, or Hamlet could hit her with it. Mum still had some semblance of capitalist drive.

  ‘Oh, and I believe,’ Dad said, throwing his arm around Selby’s shoulders, ‘that I must congratulate you on your upcoming marriage.’

  ‘What?’ said Selby in alarm.

  ‘Hamlet has asked my permission to wed you,’ said Dad. ‘And, of course, I agreed.’

  ‘You didn’t?’ said Selby.

  ‘Well, none of my children are interested in working in the bookstore,’ said Dad. ‘I’d be delighted to have a son-in-law who is so keen to advise my customers.’

  ‘This is all a big joke to you, isn’t it?’ said Selby.

  ‘I see it more as an act of performance art,’ said Dad.

  ‘I’ll take him over to Dan’s house to get him out of your way,’ said Selby.

  ‘You will not,’ said Dad. ‘His shift doesn’t finish until six pm.’

  ‘You’ve given him a job!’ exclaimed Selby.

  ‘He read a fourteenth century Nordic folktale to Mrs Haversham and made her cry, it was so beautiful,’ said Dad. ‘Your fiancée will be a drawcard for our store. I’m going to get him to do the toddler story time on Friday.’

  ‘You’re as nuts as he is,’ said Selby.

  ‘You can’t work in the book trade unless you are, dear,’ said Dad.

  Selby went looking for Dan. She found him sitting in the children’s section, reading from their copy of Hamlet.

  ‘What are you sitting around for?’ asked Selby. ‘You’ve got to get him out of here.’

  ‘It was your idea to bring him back to the bookstore,’ said Dan. ‘What did you think was going to happen?’

  ‘Not this,’ said Selby. ‘I didn’t think my parents were going to love him like a second son.’

  ‘Are you jealous?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes!’ said Selby. ‘He is four hundred years old, Danish and fictional, and he has more in common with my parents than I do.’

  ‘Look, things will settle,’ said Dan. ‘Hamlet will calm down. The novelty will wear off. He’ll assimilate to this world in time. I’ll take him to work with me tomorrow. He won’t be able to get into too much trouble helping to rewire Mrs Ahyong’s granny flat. Get a good night’s sleep. You’ve got school tomorrow. When you get home, we’ll figure out a way to make this work.’

  ‘If he hasn’t stabbed anyone before then,’ said Selby. ‘He’s still carrying that sword. It’s probably still covered in Polonius’s blood.’

  ‘There you go,’ said Dan. ‘If he gets really annoying, we can report him to the police. Being fictional Danish royalty won’t help him here.’

  Selby thought about everything Dan had said. She couldn’t see any alternative, but perhaps that was because she was so exhausted. Travelling through a portal in the space-time-fiction continuum and inadvertently getting involved in manslaughter was physically and emotionally draining. She really needed sleep.

  ‘But where is he going to stay?’ asked Selby. ‘He can’t stay here in the flat with me and Mum and Dad. He thinks he’s in love with me. It would be awkward.’

  ‘I’ll take him back to my place,’ said Dan. ‘Dad won’t mind. I’ll tell Hamlet it’s only proper, that he can’t stay under the same roof as you until you’re wed.’

  ‘Don’t you start too,’ said Selby. ‘It’s not funny.’

  ‘Yes, it is,’ said Dan. ‘Just not for you.’

  ‘I’m going to bed,’ said Selby.

  ‘Goodnight, sweet future princess,’ said Dan.

  ‘Whatever,’ said Selby, as she turned to trudge back upstairs.

  12

  To Be, or Not to Be . . . A Pain in the Butt

  When Selby got up the following morning, the whole previous day felt totally unreal. She knew it wasn’t, because she still had a bruise on her shin from the spiral staircase and one under her arm from trying to wrestle the sword out of Hamlet’s hand. It was such a relief to be going to school. She never thought she would feel that way about school but it was true. At least at school there were no death threats. Well . . . Mr Sophocles may have mentioned the death penalty for anyone who didn’t hand in their history homework, but she assumed that was hyperbole.

  Selby wasn’t used to talking to anyone, just the occasional monosyllabic answer for her parents. And yesterday she had been engaged in countless philosophical and literary discussions with Dan, as well as debating life-and-death principles of morality with Hamlet, and even Ophelia. It would be such a relief to sit at the back of a classroom and be ignored.

  Mum and Dad were already down in the bookstore when Selby emerged for breakfast. She ate alone, packed her lunch and headed down, turning to call out a perfunctory goodbye as she stepped out through the front door of the shop. Whereupon she slammed into someone and stumbled backwards, landing on her butt.

  ‘Good morning, fair Selby,’ said Hamlet as he held out his hand to help her up. ‘Falling at my feet already. Has regard for me o’er-powered thee at last?’

  ‘What are you doing here?’ asked Selby.

  Dan was standing next to him, looking irritated. They were both dressed in hi-vis work shirts. Dan was already dusty. They looked like they’d come straight from the building site.

  ‘I tried taking him to work with me,’ said Dan. ‘It didn’t work out.’

  ‘What happened?’ asked Selby.

  Dan glanced at Hamlet. ‘He got in an argument with a carpenter. The carpenter tried to punch him and Hamlet tried to attack him with a sword. Of course, he didn’t have a sword, I made him leave that at home, so he attacked him with a claw hammer instead. The carpenter threatened to call the cops if he didn’t leave the site.’

  ‘What were you arguing about?’ Selby asked Hamlet. ‘It must have been pretty bad if it seemed like a good idea to attack a man with a work tool?’

  ‘He questioned my honour,’ said Hamlet.

  Selby turned to Dan for an explanation.

  ‘The carpenter teased him for talking like a girl,’ said Dan.

  ‘Girls don’t talk like that,’ said Selby, pointing at Hamlet.

  ‘I know,’ said Dan. ‘The carpenter isn’t the greatest wit. He didn’t mean any harm – they always tease new people on a job site. On my first day, they sent me to Bunnings to buy a left-handed screw driver.’

  ‘Surely you didn’t fall for that one,’ said Selby.

  ‘Of course not,’ said Dan. ‘My dad is an electrician. I grew up holding screwdrivers for him. I went to the bookshop and read for half an hour, then let them laugh at me when I got back. That’s how you fit in, by going along with the joke.’

  ‘I’m guessing they didn’t have going-along-with-a-joke lessons at prince school,’ said Selby.

  ‘There is but little value placed on mirth,’ said Hamlet, ‘except among the fools who trade in it.’

  ‘Apparently not,’ agreed Dan.

  ‘Well, what do you expect me to do with him?’ asked Selby.

  ‘Can’t he work in the store?’ asked Dan.

  ‘I don’t want to leave him alone with Mum and Dad,’ said Selby. ‘What if he tries to hit one of them with a hammer?’

  ‘I would never raise a hand against the parents of the woman I love,’ said Hamlet.

  ‘Apart from the fact I refuse to accept that you do love me,’ said Selby, ‘I seriously doubt you know what love is. You did kill the father of your last girlfriend just yesterday.’

  ‘T’was an accident,’ said Hamlet. ‘And t’was thou who held my arm throughout the doing of it.’

  ‘Take him to school with you,’ said Dan.

  ‘What?’ said Selby. ‘I can’t just take a grown man to school.’

  ‘He looks young enough,’ said Dan. ‘If anyone asks, just say he’s a Danish exchange student. I bet no-one will even ask, though.’

  ‘That’s a terrible idea,’ said Selby.

  ‘Well, he can’t come back to the site with me,’ said Dan, backing away towards his van. ‘And I’ve got to get back. It’s going to rain this afternoon. We’ve got to get the wiring done before then.’

  ‘Dan, no, wait!’ protested Selby. But Dan had already jumped into the driver’s seat of his van. ‘Good luck,’ he called out the window as he sped away.

  ‘Coward,’ muttered Selby.

  ‘What now?’ asked Hamlet.

  ‘I guess you’re going to come with me,’ said Selby. ‘If you think medieval Denmark was full of conflict and treachery, wait ’til you see a modern high school.’

  ‘Should I fetch forth my sword?’ asked Hamlet.

  ‘Probably not,’ said Selby. ‘Someone might pull a gun on you.’

  ‘A cannon?’ asked Hamlet. ‘Thou school has such weaponry?’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ said Selby. ‘But who knows what they get up to in metal work. The teacher is pretty eccentric. It wouldn’t surprise me.’

  So Selby and Hamlet set out to school together.

  Selby was embarrassed when she walked into her first period English lesson with Hamlet in tow. It turns out, she needn’t have been. Everyone ignored her. Of course, they always had ignored her. Acknowledging her would have diminished their own social standing. The fact that she brought a tall, good-looking man to their class was clearly a desperate bid for attention, which they were not going to pander to by asking questions. Selby found two seats at the back for her and Hamlet.

  ‘What lecture are we attending?’ he asked.

  ‘English,’ said Selby.

  ‘Excellent! Art thou studying a text I may have read?’ asked Hamlet.

  ‘In a way, yes,’ said Selby. ‘We’re studying a play called Hamlet.’

  ‘Really?’ said Hamlet. ‘I have never heard of this work.’

  ‘Yes,’ agreed Selby. ‘You sort of inspired it.’

  ‘The English have written a play about me?’ asked Hamlet.

  ‘Basically, yes,’ said Selby.

  ‘Then, in truth, I shall enjoy this lesson,’ said Hamlet. ‘In this play, I hope I will find myself to be an excellent teacher.’

  ‘That’s a good idea,’ said Selby. ‘You just listen and take it all in. It’s probably best if you don’t actively participate in the lesson. Because you’re a visitor.’

  A harried Ms Karim entered carrying a stack of papers. ‘Right, settle down,’ she said. ‘I hope you all did your reading last night.’

  The class groaned.

  ‘But it’s so boring, miss,’ complained Ben.

  ‘Yeah,’ agreed Simon, his friend.

  ‘It’s full of murder and ghosts,’ said Ms Karim. ‘I don’t see how you can find that boring.’

  ‘Because it’s so hard to understand,’ said Michelle, a girl who much preferred science. ‘It’s all in old English.’

  ‘It’s not,’ said Ms Karim. ‘Old English is from a specific period. This isn’t even Middle English. Shakespeare uses Early Modern English. We’ll cover Middle English next semester when we read Chaucer. That is much more challenging.’

  ‘Can’t we get a translation?’ asked Ben.

  ‘Or watch the movie?’ said Simon.

  Lots of people started calling out and agreeing with that one.

  ‘No,’ said Ms Karim. ‘Hamlet’s struggles are universal themes that you can all learn from. The language is challenging, but you don’t come here to be spoon-fed intellectual baby food. You are here to learn. You need to attempt to actively engage. You need to try. It isn’t meant to be easy.’

  ‘Well, I did the reading,’ said Isla, ‘and I didn’t like it because Hamlet is such a dick.’

  The class sniggered.

  ‘What did she say?’ asked Hamlet.

  ‘Shhh,’ said Selby. ‘You’re just observing, remember.’

  ‘If Hamlet just got to the point, it would all be over so much sooner,’ said Isla.

  ‘I just wish he’d make up his mind,’ said Olivia. ‘It’s like taking my nan to the drive thru at McDonalds. I swear she takes ten times longer than she needs to just because she enjoys driving everyone nuts.’

  ‘And he’s mean to his girlfriend,’ said Isla.

  ‘And his mum,’ said Olivia. ‘If I spoke to my mum that way, I’d get my wifi cut off.’

  ‘Well, his mum was a tart,’ said Ben.

  ‘How dare you!’ roared Hamlet, leaping to his feet.

  ‘Don’t!’ cried Selby. She leapt up and tried to stop Hamlet, but he brushed past her.

  ‘I’ll not suffer the ignorance of such fools!’ declared Hamlet. He reached for his belt as if to draw his sword, forgetting he was not carrying one. Instead, he picked up the nearest thing to hand – Selby’s homework folder – and threatened Ben with it. ‘Take back your vile words.’

  ‘Who on earth are you?’ demanded Ms Karim.

  ‘I am the teacher who shall school this pup in manners,’ said Hamlet. ‘If this fledgling scoundrel does not beg my pardon, as a gentleman should, he shall soon beg for his life!’

  ‘You’re not a teacher here,’ said Ms Karim. ‘Who gave you permission to come to this classroom?’

  ‘He’s with me, miss,’ said Selby. ‘He’s a . . . Danish exchange student. He knows all about Hamlet. He’s . . . um . . . a Hamlet impersonator where he comes from. I thought he could help us understand the novel.’

  ‘You can’t just bring guests to class,’ said Ms Karim.

  ‘Hah! This fits no definition of a class,’ said Hamlet. ‘’Tis a room indeed. I spy four walls and a ceiling above them. But a class should be a room wherein students learn, and mine eyes see no evidence of this amongst this pimply pack of wastrels.’

  ‘I think you’d better leave,’ said Ms Karim. ‘I’m going to have to report this to the principal, Selby. He will want to talk to you about this. It’s not acceptable.’

  ‘How dare you!’ accused Hamlet. ‘’Tis I who shall report you – to the governors of this institution! I’ll not stand idly by while you abuse my good lady. Come, Selby, let us leave this place.’