Read Online The Total Tragedy of a Girl Named Hamlet by Erin Dionne - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Erin Dionne
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supplies with the same intensity that a starving person looks at Thanksgiving dinner.
“I think it’s best if you do this yourself,” he said, and sighed. Mom must have told him to back off, afraid that he’d take over our assignment. She was probably right, but still.
We cleared off the coffee table according to his directions, and he disappeared into his office. Shuffling, banging, and a muffled “raven’s feathers!” curse came through the wall. Judith giggled behind a cupped hand. Ty nudged her.
“Think that’s funny? You should hear what he says when he’s really mad,” he whispered. That sent Judith into more giggles. I stuck my tongue out at both of them.
“It is a little messy in here,” Dad called. “No need to be alarmed.”
He emerged carrying a Globe on a piece of heavy cardboard.
“This one I carved out of Styrofoam,” he said, eyes shining again. “It took me all of August to get the seats right.” He pointed out the dimensions, the setup of the stage, where the entrances and exits were, and how he’d used toothpicks to reinforce the tiers between the second and third levels. Then he brought out one he made using Popsicle sticks. And the corrugated cardboard version. He gave us the guided tour of each.
By our third detailed discussion of the “tiring house,” Ty was slumped over, a dazed expression on his face. I was nearly asleep. Ely’s dreads drooped, and Judith, I was pretty sure, was composing music in her head. She’d hum every so often, and run her fingers on her thigh like she was playing piano.
“Dad,” I interrupted, shaking myself out of my stupor, “we really need to get started on ours.” I hoped he wouldn’t be offended.
“Of course!” he said. “As Willie says, pleasure and action make the hours seem short.” When none of us responded, he kept going. “But I do want to share my favorite of the collection . . .” He disappeared into his office for the final time, thankfully—he didn’t have any more left after this one.
The last Globe was mounted on a piece of wood—maybe plywood? It was the most beautiful of all of them. Painted a rich shade of brown, with real stage curtains and tiny details on the seats and entrances, it had clearly taken him a long time to complete. Ty sat straight up again.
“Whoa,” Ely breathed.
Dad nodded. “I made this one out of leftover shingles from when we had the house redone. It was the first one.”
“It’s amazing,” Judith agreed.
After show-and-tell, Dad went over the directions with us.
“Well,” he said when he was done, “I guess I should let you work now.” I could tell he wanted to stay and help, but Mom would be mad if he did. He started putting the Globes back in his office.
I thought I knew what might make him feel better. “Could you leave one for us to look at?” I asked. Ty nodded his head.
“Yeah—I mean, yes,” he agreed, forgetting that it’s my mom who gets hung up on the grammar thing.
“It would really help us know if we were doing it right.”
“A wonderful idea!” Dad said, smile returning. “I shall leave you with this one.” He put the shingle Globe on an end table next to the couch. “May it inspire you to greatness.” He gave a half bow and went back upstairs.
“Well,” said Ty, after a glance at his watch, “ that took an hour and a half. We’d better get started.”
We laid our materials out and got to work.
“I’m guessing the two of you already hashed out the English thing, huh?” said Judith. She laid a piece of wood onto their foundation and held her hand out for the glue.
Ty nodded. “Ham wants to fake-read next time.”
“That’s so bogus,” Judith said. She shook her head, sending her streaky red hair flying. She’d dyed it again.
“Why shouldn’t I read like everyone else? It’d get Wimple off my case,” I complained.
“Never deny your true nature.” Ely used his Star Wars voice: deep and slow. I hucked a piece of balsa wood at
“I think it’s best if you do this yourself,” he said, and sighed. Mom must have told him to back off, afraid that he’d take over our assignment. She was probably right, but still.
We cleared off the coffee table according to his directions, and he disappeared into his office. Shuffling, banging, and a muffled “raven’s feathers!” curse came through the wall. Judith giggled behind a cupped hand. Ty nudged her.
“Think that’s funny? You should hear what he says when he’s really mad,” he whispered. That sent Judith into more giggles. I stuck my tongue out at both of them.
“It is a little messy in here,” Dad called. “No need to be alarmed.”
He emerged carrying a Globe on a piece of heavy cardboard.
“This one I carved out of Styrofoam,” he said, eyes shining again. “It took me all of August to get the seats right.” He pointed out the dimensions, the setup of the stage, where the entrances and exits were, and how he’d used toothpicks to reinforce the tiers between the second and third levels. Then he brought out one he made using Popsicle sticks. And the corrugated cardboard version. He gave us the guided tour of each.
By our third detailed discussion of the “tiring house,” Ty was slumped over, a dazed expression on his face. I was nearly asleep. Ely’s dreads drooped, and Judith, I was pretty sure, was composing music in her head. She’d hum every so often, and run her fingers on her thigh like she was playing piano.
“Dad,” I interrupted, shaking myself out of my stupor, “we really need to get started on ours.” I hoped he wouldn’t be offended.
“Of course!” he said. “As Willie says, pleasure and action make the hours seem short.” When none of us responded, he kept going. “But I do want to share my favorite of the collection . . .” He disappeared into his office for the final time, thankfully—he didn’t have any more left after this one.
The last Globe was mounted on a piece of wood—maybe plywood? It was the most beautiful of all of them. Painted a rich shade of brown, with real stage curtains and tiny details on the seats and entrances, it had clearly taken him a long time to complete. Ty sat straight up again.
“Whoa,” Ely breathed.
Dad nodded. “I made this one out of leftover shingles from when we had the house redone. It was the first one.”
“It’s amazing,” Judith agreed.
After show-and-tell, Dad went over the directions with us.
“Well,” he said when he was done, “I guess I should let you work now.” I could tell he wanted to stay and help, but Mom would be mad if he did. He started putting the Globes back in his office.
I thought I knew what might make him feel better. “Could you leave one for us to look at?” I asked. Ty nodded his head.
“Yeah—I mean, yes,” he agreed, forgetting that it’s my mom who gets hung up on the grammar thing.
“It would really help us know if we were doing it right.”
“A wonderful idea!” Dad said, smile returning. “I shall leave you with this one.” He put the shingle Globe on an end table next to the couch. “May it inspire you to greatness.” He gave a half bow and went back upstairs.
“Well,” said Ty, after a glance at his watch, “ that took an hour and a half. We’d better get started.”
We laid our materials out and got to work.
“I’m guessing the two of you already hashed out the English thing, huh?” said Judith. She laid a piece of wood onto their foundation and held her hand out for the glue.
Ty nodded. “Ham wants to fake-read next time.”
“That’s so bogus,” Judith said. She shook her head, sending her streaky red hair flying. She’d dyed it again.
“Why shouldn’t I read like everyone else? It’d get Wimple off my case,” I complained.
“Never deny your true nature.” Ely used his Star Wars voice: deep and slow. I hucked a piece of balsa wood at
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