Chapter 5 – January 11A

The Bird hurried down the stone corridor of what she assumed (despite recognizing the im of the possibility) to be Elsinore Castle. The corridor opened onto the top of a stairway, but she stopped herself before beginning to step down.

She didn’t know where she was going. All she knew was that Mr. Jacobs had run in this direction, as had Double-J moments before. Her other friends on the Bark Bay High School fencing team had followed Mr. Jacobs. There were no other doors or passages between Gertrude’s room and here, so they could only have gone down these stairs. Continuing in this direction was the only action that made sense.

She laughed. “Does anything about this situation make sense?” Hearing the sound of her own voice echoing off the cold stone wall was somehow comforting. She realized that if she did find Mr. Jacobs or Double-J, she had no idea what they’d do next. Not knowing how they had suddenly appeared in the middle of this production of “Hamlet” — no, it was worse than that, they weren’t on stage, they and the actors in her mother’s company were in Elsinore, as if they were somehow re-creating an actual historical event.

And there was another problem. Her mother, still playing the role of Gertrude, seemed capable of interacting with the other actors and the strangers from Bark Bay, despite the fact she was now dressed as Save-Anna, the outlandish character she played in the local television commercials that “paid the bills.” And Hamlet had also recognized Double-J (as had Polonius, before being brutally murdered by the burly teen), so he would likely recognize Mr. Jacobs and her other friends as well.

But Hamlet hadn’t recognized her. Neither did Double-J, or Mr. Jacobs, even though she had screamed at them. Only her mother had known she was there.

“Great. No sense trying to be quiet, since nobody can probably hear me.” So even if she was able to find Mr. Jacobs and the others, what would she do next?

An echoed voice from below. O heavy deed! That was a line, Claudius. A hushing whistle, from what seemed directly beneath her. “Knock it off!” Definitely not Elizabethan language. The Bird rushed down the stairs.

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