Hamlet and Cheese, Page 2

  At snack time, Riley squeezed in next to Stink. Uh-oh! Stink had his shield ready, just in case. But then Riley bumped Harper’s juice box and it spilled — all over Riley! Saved by the juice box!

  That afternoon, Stink went down the hall to get a drink of water. Riley Rottenberger followed him.

  Stink dashed into the only place where Riley couldn’t get to him: the BOYS’ bathroom. He pulled a fake beard from his pocket. And fake glasses. Ta-da! Shakesbeard to the rescue! Riley would never know him now. Safe at last.

  Stink made it through the rest of the day — cootie free — by the skin of his teeth.

  That night, Stink put on puffy pumpkin pants. He put on his WILL POWER T-shirt. He put on a green velvet cape. Macbeth time! He forgot all about Smoochy.

  Ding-dong! Stink raced downstairs. It was Grandma Lou at the door. And Pugsy! Stink was going to see the play, and Mom and Dad were going out, too, so Grandma Lou was going to stay with Judy.

  Stink took a bow. “How now, my fair lady?”

  “I fare thee well,” said Grandma Lou. “Where’s Judy, pray tell?”

  “Thy wench be up yonder stairs.”

  “What wicked tongue have you, young sir!” Grandma Lou teased. “I’m thinking I’ll take Judy and Pugsy over to see the play tonight, too. Macbeth is my favorite.”

  “Pugsy is going? Cool!” said Stink.

  Grandma Lou slipped Stink some bone-shaped dog treats, and Stink fed one to him. “Holy Hamlet!” said Stink. “Thou hast the breath of seven garlic eaters, Pugs.”

  Honk! A car pulled up. “Sophie’s here,” said Stink. He stuffed the extra dog treats in his pocket for later. “Parting is such sweet sorrow, Pugs. See you at the play!”

  At the far end of the open, grassy area of the college’s main quad, a stage had been set up. People sat on blankets and had picnics, waiting for the show to start. Stink and the Shakespeare Sprites followed Amanda Beth around back to a large white tent where the props were stored and where the actors got ready.

  “Knock, knock,” said Amanda Beth, pretending the tent flap was a door.

  “Who’s there?” An actor with a fake beard and a fake belly stuck his head out. “You must be the Shakespeare Sprites,” he said. “I’m Ryan.” Ryan held the tent flap open so the Sprites could step inside.

  The tent was crowded with rolling racks of gowns and robes. Tables were covered with armor, bloody daggers, and a fake head. Stink stepped over a dead-tree prop and snaked around a tray full of plastic turkey legs.

  “Welcome, Sprites. As I said, I’m Ryan, and I play the lead.”

  “You’re Macbeth?” asked Stink.

  Ryan’s eyes grew big as marbles. “Uh-oh! It’s bad luck to say that word before the play.”

  “What word? Macbeth?” asked Stink.

  “He said it again!” said Riley.

  “We call it the Scottish Play,” said Ryan, “or MacBee. We never say the name of this play.”

  “Why not?” asked Stink.

  “For the same reason you would never wish an actor good luck,” said Amanda Beth.

  “Huh? You wouldn’t?”

  “In the theater world, it’s bad luck if you wish somebody good luck. Instead you say Break a leg.”

  “Backwards,” said Stink.

  “Way back when,” Ryan said, “the very first time this play was ever staged, the boy playing the part of Lady MacBee got a fever and died. Ever since then, they say the play is cursed. And it does seem like a lot of disasters happen whenever the Scottish Play is staged: storms and fires and accidents on opening night.”

  “Uh-oh!” said Harper.

  Behind Ryan, a man in a crown and a fur-lined cape began to sob and wipe his eyes.

  “Why is that guy crying?” asked Sophie.

  “Is he crying because Stink cursed the play?” asked Riley.

  “That’s Mick. He plays Duncan. He’s just warming up. That’s his way of getting ready to go onstage.”

  One actor whooped like a monkey. Lady MacBee sang her lines in a high, squeaky opera voice. Somebody else recited the alphabet backward.

  “Do you all know the story of tonight’s play?” Ryan asked.

  “Amanda Beth told us,” said Hazel.

  “Yeah, this guy, Macbeth —” Oops! Stink clapped a hand over his mouth. He said the M word again! Stink started over. “The main guy, MacBee, wants to be king so bad,” said Stink.

  “So they have a sleepover, and MacBee kills King Duncan while he’s snoring,” said Sophie.

  “Then Lady MacBee pretends MacBee didn’t kill the king,” said Riley.

  “But MacBee’s best friend knows he did,” said Harper.

  “Amanda Beth told us there are three witches in the play, too,” said Sophie. “And they eat eyes of newts and toads of frogs.”

  “I’ll let you in on a secret,” said Ryan. “The eyes of newts are just raisins. And the toes of frogs are grapes.”

  Ryan took the Sprites on a quick tour. They got to try on armor, read a letter to Lady Macbeth, and test out the blood-squirting knife.

  Stink lifted up Macbeth’s head. “Is this you?”

  “Not all of me, but yes. That’s me after I get my head chopped off,” said Ryan.

  “Sweet!” said Stink.

  “It’s almost showtime,” said Ryan. “Better go take your places outside.”

  “Break a leg,” said Stink. “A turkey leg!”

  The Sprites got to sit on blankets right up front. Stink waved to Grandma Lou and Judy, who were sitting on lawn chairs at the back with Pugsy.

  It started to get dark outside. Torches flickered inside Macbeth’s castle, and the play began.

  The play was spooky and not boring. Stink and Sophie sat up on their knees and leaned forward.

  “Will all great Neptune’s ocean wash this blood clean from my hand?” Macbeth said after killing Duncan. Stink leaned so close that he could see Macbeth’s spit fly!

  The scene switched to the inside of a dark cave. Shadows swirled around three witches. A large pot bubbled and boiled. Thunder rumbled. Spooky!

  “Double, double toil and trouble,

  Fire burn, and cauldron bubble.”

  Riley Rottenberger scooted closer to Stink. She looked a little scared. But what if it was a trick, a way to move in close and give him a big fat smooch-a-roo?

  A shiver ran up the back of Stink’s neck.

  “Eye of newt and toe of frog,

  Wool of bat and tongue of dog.”

  The audience started to laugh. Wait. Why were they laughing? The scene was super-spooky, not funny.

  Then he saw it. Holy eyeballs! Pugsy!

  Pugsy was on the loose. He ran in circles around blankets, sniffed picnic baskets, and leaped over legs. His leash slapped and flapped behind him. For the love of Pluto! Pugsy was headed straight for the stage.

  “By the pricking of my thumbs,

  Something wicked this way comes.

  Open, locks, whoever knocks.”

  Macbeth came bursting out from behind a curtain. “How now, you secret, black, and midnight hags?”

  And that’s when disaster struck. Pugsy raced up the side steps and onto the stage!

  Macbeth stopped speaking and the witches stopped witching. Pugsy barked and yapped and ran in circles. He nipped at the hems of the witches’ skirts, making them hop and jump in a funny dance.

  It was all Stink’s fault. He had cursed the play by saying the bad-luck word, the M word! He sprinted up the side steps after Pugsy. If only Stink had . . . Wait! He did! Stink pulled a bone-shaped dog treat from his pocket. “Here, boy. Here, Pugs. Good Pugsy.”

  It worked! Pugsy came bounding toward Stink. Then, all of a sudden, he stopped. He lifted one leg.

  No-o-o!

  Stink scooped Pugsy up and turned him to face the audience. “To pee, or not to pee; that is the question.”

  The audience laughed and laughed. Stink had Pugsy take a bow, then ran offstage with the dog, calling, “The show must go on
!”

  The rest of the play was perfect. No mistakes. Nobody forgot a line. Nobody tripped and fell. And no more dogs ran onstage!

  So the play wasn’t cursed after all. Stink had saved the day. And saved the play.

  The next morning, Stink snarfed his waffle in four bites.

  “What’s the big hurry?” Dad asked.

  “At camp today, we get to fight! Two actors from Macbeth are coming to show us how. Don’t worry. It’s not real. In acting, you get to fake fight. You make it look real, but nobody gets hurt. Here, I’ll show you.”

  Stink pulled Judy up out of her seat. He stuck out his arm. “Stand one arm’s length apart. Now pretend to hit me —”

  “For real?” said Judy.

  “I said pretend. Make like you’re going to slap me in the face.”

  “No problem,” said Judy, grinning.

  Judy reached out to slap Stink. He quickly jerked his head to the side and made a slapping sound by clapping his own hands together.

  “Pretty neat,” said Dad.

  “I have to admit, it looked real,” said Mom.

  “It sounded real, too,” said Judy. “No lie.”

  “After today, I’ll be able to pretend-punch you in the stomach,” said Stink.

  “Now I wish I was going to that camp, too,” said Judy.

  “On Saturday we’re acting out scenes from Shakespeare,” said Stink. “Families can watch, even sisters. It’s free, even though in Shakespeare’s time it cost a penny.”

  “RARE!” said Judy.

  “Guess what the best part is? I get to drink poison and die!” Stink fell to the floor, then rolled around like he was in agony.

  “You’d make a good Romeo,” said Mom, “after he drinks his poison.”

  Gulp!

  When Stink and Sophie got to camp on Thursday, two of the actors from Macbeth were pulling pool noodles out of a tall cardboard box in the closet.

  “Hey, Ryan!” said Stink and Sophie.

  “What, ho! If it isn’t the Curse of Macbeth himself!” Ryan teased.

  “Yeah. Sorry about the dog running up onstage and everything.”

  “Oh, that was nothing. One time Macduff was supposed to hold up my head to show that he killed me. But they couldn’t find the fake head, so he had to use a basketball. True story.”

  Stink cracked up. Sophie peered at the other actor. “Hey! You’re Lady Macbeth!”

  The actor waved a little wave. “Hi, I’m Ryan.”

  “Wait. So you’re Girl Ryan and he’s Boy Ryan?” Stink asked.

  “That’s right.” Girl Ryan held up a pool noodle. “How do you like our swords?”

  “Very cool!” said Stink.

  Amanda Beth started off the morning. “In Shakespeare’s time, sword fights were part of everyday life. If somebody didn’t like you, say they called you a liar, you might challenge them to a duel.”

  “A duel is when two people fight with swords,” said Riley.

  “That’s right,” said Amanda Beth.

  Boy Ryan and Girl Ryan talked about safety first. “No hitting on the head. No getting near the eyes. If one of you calls ‘Stop!’ the other has to stop.”

  “Put up thy swords!” said Girl Ryan.

  Sophie picked up a purple pool noodle. “Meet the Unicorn Horn.”

  Stink sat on a lime-green one. “My sword will be called El Stabbo.”

  Riley held up a red one. “El Kisso,” she said.

  El Yikes-o!

  Boy Ryan and Girl Ryan stood at arm’s length and made eye contact. Girl Ryan taught them how to thrust, lunge, and fend off.

  Boy Ryan showed them how to turn, duck, and reverse.

  “Don’t forget to fake out your enemy.” Boy Ryan pretended to crouch down but thrust his sword high over his head. “Fake low and go high.”

  “Now it’s your turn,” Girl Ryan told the campers. “Pick a partner to practice swordplay, one-on-one.”

  “I call Stink!” said Sophie of the Elves.

  “I call Stink!” said Harper and Hazel.

  “I call Stink!” said Riley.

  Boy Ryan raised his eyebrows and turned to the girls. “You do know this short guy be cursed, right?”

  Everybody giggled.

  “Let’s let Stink choose,” said Amanda Beth. “But before you begin your swordplay, I want you to get psyched up. Start by calling out some of those Shakespeare insults we’ve been learning.”

  “That’ll get the blood boiling,” said Girl Ryan.

  Hark! Did she say insults? Stink was good at that. “I call Riley!” he blurted.

  “Stink!” whispered Sophie. “Are you cuckoo?”

  “But I’ve been storing up pukey words,” he whispered back. “This is my chance to let them loose on You-Know-Who.”

  “Let’s say whoever taps the other on the shoulder first wins,” said Boy Ryan. “May the best gentleman, or lady, win!”

  Stink and Riley stood at arm’s length. “Thou art more loathsome than a toad,” Riley started.

  Stink swished and swooped his pool noodle through the air. Shoop-shoop! “Thou art more pukey than a pickle.” Stink did not mean to say pickle. He meant to say something worse. Slime. Pukenstein. Anything.

  “Beslubbering urchin-snouted mold warp,” said Riley. Help! Riley was way-good at this. Suddenly, Stink could not think.

  “Brain-sick love worm!” Love! Why had he said love? What was wrong with his brain today?

  “You yellow-bellied hugger-mugger!” said Riley.

  “Milk . . . lily . . . hedgehog!” said Stink. Something was not right. Something was wrong. Stink could not think of any pukey words. He could not even think of any gross or smelly stuff.

  “Hedgehogs aren’t gross,” said Riley, giggling. “They’re cute!”

  Fie on thee! Shoop, shoop.

  Riley tried to jab Stink in the stomach. Stink groaned and staggered backward. Fake-out time. Instead of falling, he swung his pool noodle over his shoulder.

  Riley did not see it coming. He brought the pool noodle down and tapped her lightly on each shoulder. “Tag. You’re dead!”

  Riley made a face. She knew she was done for. She crumpled to the ground. Riley was not getting up.

  “El Stabbo rules!” cried Stink.

  Boy Ryan and Girl Ryan clapped. “Excellent footwork!” said Girl Ryan.

  “Good fake out,” said Boy Ryan.

  Stink leaned over to check that Riley was really dead. Wait just a Macbeth minute. Her eyes were wide open. Just then, Riley reached up and . . .

  Oh, no! What was he thinking? Where was his anti-kissing shield now?

  Before Stink could jump away, Riley pulled on Stink’s nose. “Got your nose!” she said, making her thumb stick up between two fingers.

  Stink turned fifty shades of red. At least Riley seemed to have forgotten about lip-locking.

  For now.

  Stink’s time had come. Time to shuffle off this mortal coil. Time to croak. As in die.

  On the last day of Shakespeare camp, that is, the day before they would perform for their families!

  “Great swordplay yesterday, Sprites,” said Amanda Beth. “This morning we’ll work on what to do after the sword fight. We are going to learn how to die a glorious death, just like in Mr. Shakespeare’s plays.”

  A murmur of excitement went through the group.

  “There are lots of different ways to die in Shakespeare. Let’s say poison is poured into your ear while you’re sleeping,” Amanda Beth said. “Grab your neck like this, stick out your tongue, and pretend you’re choking. If you’re stabbed with a dagger, clutch your stomach, stagger, and —”

  “Fall on your rear!” said Riley, acting it out.

  “Perfect,” said Amanda Beth. “And if someone throws a deadly snake at you?”

  “Run!” said Harper and Hazel.

  “Don’t forget to scream,” said Sophie.

  “Everybody on your feet,” said Amanda Beth. “Let’s try it.”

&nb
sp; Riley grabbed her neck and stuck out her tongue. Sophie let out a blood-curdling scream.

  Stink held up a pretend sword and chased after some Sprites. Swing, swing, stab, stab. AAAAH! Stink’s air-sword was faster than a flying karate chop.

  Sprites swooned. Sprites groaned. Sprites crumpled at the knees. Sprites were falling down all around him and calling out, “O, I am slain!”

  Wait till I tell Webster about this! thought Stink.

  For the rest of the day, the Sprites practiced their Shakespeare scenes in small groups.

  “Will you be ready for the Big Wet One tomorrow?” Riley asked Stink. “The Smooch? The Smackeroo?”

  Stink tried to scare off Riley with stinky stuff from Shakespeare’s time. “I have the pox, you know,” he warned.

  “Do not,” said Riley.

  “Then I have the scurvy.”

  “Nah-uh.”

  “The vermin?” Stink scratched his head.

  “No way do you have lice, Stink.”

  “B.O.?”

  “No go.”

  “Forget it,” said Stink. “There’s no kissing in Hamlet anyway.”

  “We’ll see about that,” said Riley.

  Fie on thee, fly-faced maggot pie!

  “Methinks she’s mad,” said Stink.

  “Most true, most true,” said Sophie.

  The new morn came. ’Twas Saturday, hither at last! Stink sat in the back seat on the way to Shakespeare camp with his family.

  “Tell us about Hamlet, Stink,” Dad said, talking to the rearview mirror.

  “Yeah, let’s hear about your big death scene,” said Judy.

  “Okay. So. There’s this king, Claudius,” said Stink. “He’s the bad guy and he’s way into poison. He gets this guy Laertes to fight Hamlet, but Hamlet doesn’t know the sword has a poison tip.”

  “Yikes,” said Judy. “Sounds bad.”

  “And . . . the bad king says he’s putting a pearl in Hamlet’s cup, but it’s really a poison pill. Then Hamlet’s mother drinks it by mistake!”