Henry Hamlet's Heart

by Rhiannon Wilde

‘You’re sick.’

  ‘You’re a monk. You don’t get it because you’re voluntarily celibate.’

  ‘I am not.’ I can feel my cheeks starting to flame.

  ‘Please. The closest you’ve ever got to a chick is spewing on her.’

  ‘Yes, well – there’s more to life than girls, Gerrard.’

  ‘Monk.’

  ‘Don’t you have to be religious to be a monk?’ Len interjects.

  ‘Oh yeah,’ Ged says. ‘Guess you’re just a loser, then.’

  Vince and Harrison snigger. I punch Ged in the arm, but avoid looking at Len. I want to avoid him for most of this trip.

  (And also, I don’t.)

  We shuffle forward in line, and Mr Lewis calls everyone to attention. Accompanying him are Ms Hartnett and Coach Jamieson.

  ‘All right, listen up!’ Mr Lewis shouts. ‘The buses will be departing in five minutes, but before you hop on, I just want to alert you to the way the seating plan is going to work this year. In the past it’s been alphabetical, but this year we’ve tried to keep you with your mates. Your name will be on your allocated seat.’

  I groan internally. Please let me be with Vince. Or Harrison. Or even bloody Ged, if it’ll get me out of spending six hours at excruciation station.

  Mr Lewis seems to be anticipating applause for being such a ‘cool’ teacher. He waits for a few more seconds before giving up and waving us onto the buses. I hitch my bag over my shoulder and follow the rest of our home room onto bus three.

  I search the seats, wishin’ hopin’ prayin’ …

  ‘Looks like we’re bus buddies,’ Len says from behind me. I turn around unwillingly; he points to a seat near the back of the bus with LENNON AND HAMLET scrawled onto a Post-it on the headrest.

  ‘Sit down, Hamlet!’ Coach J says. ‘For the love of God.’

  This trip will kill me.

  ‘Great,’ I say, weakly. I shove my bag into the overhead compartment and slide into the window seat. Len does the same and sits beside me, his arm brushing mine. I grip the armrest hard enough to snap it off.

  Any initial confusion has congealed into a blob of intense, searing embarrassment. I know it’s not the same for him; he does this sort of stuff all the time, with all sorts of people. But I froze. Why am I actually beyond help?

  I scoot as far from him as I can. My face is practically pressed against the glass.

  ‘Hamlet.’

  I can feel him rolling his eyes at me, but I don’t look up. I resolve to sleep the entire journey.

  I make it as far as the bus pulling out of the school parking lot and onto the road before he coughs conspicuously and leans in, lips so close to my ear my spirit actually leaves my body, and whispers, ‘Are you really gonna ignore me the whole way?’

  I don’t answer him.

  ‘You realise you are the chattiest person ever on road trips.’

  I prop my head up to face him. ‘Maybe I don’t have anything to say.’

  His eyebrows lower. ‘Why are you pissed at me?’

  (Because we’re pretending like nothing happened.)

  (Because maybe nothing did.)

  (Because you’re wearing my shirt and it makes me want to blow my cover in front of everyone.)

  ‘I’m not.’

  ‘Right. Except, you are.’

  ‘Why is nothing a big deal to you, ever?’

  His eyes darken with something. ‘What do you mean?’

  I lean back against the window and close my eyes. ‘Forget it. I’m tired.’

  ‘Fine. It’s not like you’re not gonna crack in twenty minutes and be at me wanting to play Cruise, Marry, Shag.’

  His prediction doesn’t come to pass. I manage to fall asleep, waking only to groggily get on the ferry to the island.

  Vince, Ged, Len and I end up sharing a cabin – Harrison goes with his soccer friends. I take the bunk underneath Ged’s, at which Len makes a face but says nothing.

  The cabin is pine-y and decent, and there’s a wide bay window framing the bright turquoise sea. Ged pushes it open, salt air filling the room.

  Coach J pokes his head in the door to bark, ‘Dinner’s at five thirty, lads. Free time till then.’

  ‘Excellent.’ Ged claps his hands together.

  Coach J turns a watery eagle eye on him. ‘Go anywhere near those girls, McConnell, and it’s immediate suspension.’

  Ged puts his hand on his chest innocently. ‘We wouldn’t dream of it, sir.’

  Coach grumbles away, unconvinced.

  ‘You are so full of it, mate,’ Vince says. He’s reapplying his eyeliner in the smudged mirror by the door.

  ‘And who’s that for, Vincent?’ Ged asks. ‘Me?’

  Vince puts the cap back on the thick black pencil. ‘That Maia from lacrosse might be there.’

  Maia is basically Vince’s emo kryptonite, and has officially replaced kayak girl in his affections.

  Ged pulls off his tracksuit bottoms and steps into a pair of black skinny jeans so tight they barely zip up.

  ‘You guys coming with?’ he asks.

  I look at Len lying with his iPod earbuds in on the other bottom bunk.

  ‘Nah.’

  ‘Your loss.’ Ged winks. ‘Come, young Vincent – let us go in search of nirvana.’

  ‘Tosser,’ Vince says, but follows after, fluffing his choppy hair a final time.

  I look at Len again. If he realises this is the first time we’ve been alone since last night, he doesn’t let on. I, on the other hand, am so aware of him it hurts.

  The cabins are completely indecent, upon second inspection. His bed and mine are only about half a Ged-leg apart. I need to get out of here. I stand up restlessly.

  He pulls one earbud out. ‘Off to find nirvana too, are you?’

  ‘Going for a walk. I’ll be back at dinner.’

  I step outside and breathe in salt smell. The rest of the guys are milling around, engaging in various sporting activities or stripping down to go swimming, despite the chill setting in. Ms Hartnett waves at me – she already has the stressed look of someone who’s just realised they’ve bitten off more than they can chew.

  The cabins are surrounded by bush on all sides. I set off to the left of ours on a kicked-dirt pathway leading into the trees. My boots crunch satisfyingly, and as I wind further and further away I can finally feel the tension in my stomach start to unfurl a bit.

  I’m careful not to veer off the path too much, stopping after fifteen minutes or so. There’s a big boulder perched next to a wiry gum tree, so I use the low-hanging branches for purchase and climb to sit at the top of the rock, glad Mum insisted on me bringing Dad’s heavy-duty hiking shoes.

  From here, I can see over the treetops to a strip of blue. It’s beautiful – untouched in a way that slips into your bones.

  I sit crossed-legged, listening to the cackle of kookaburras overhead. I stay like that for a long time, until the light through the trees burns out and I start to wish I thought to bring my jumper.

  Darkness is leaking milkily across the horizon when I go back for dinner. The trek through the trees turns out to be significantly more challenging sans light and I fall over and scrape my shin. Twice. I wince at the pain when I sit down on the log with The Boiyss by the fire.

  ‘Jesus, what happened to you?’ Ged asks, looking at the blood dripping down my leg and into my sock.

  ‘Dingo eat your baby?’ Vince enquires around a mouthful of sausage in bread.

  ‘I went for a walk,’ I say defensively.

  ‘To where, Jurassic Park?’ Len joins in.

  ‘I fell!’ I throw up my arms, red-cheeked. ‘I’m a child of the city. I’m not built for the great outdoors.’

  ‘You should probably get that looked at,’ Harrison says. ‘It might get infected.’

 
‘It’s a scratch. I’m fine.’

  I get up and stride over to the food and drinks table. I pile my plate high without looking at any of it and end up with a mountain of pasta salad and three tofu sausages. I sit back down, shovelling mayonnaise-y goo into my mouth dejectedly. The tofu sausages taste predictably like nibbling Ged’s big toe.

  Len pushes his plate towards me. ‘Here. The actual meat went early; I saved you a steak.’

  I lift my eyes in surprise. ‘Thanks.’

  The steak oozes its juices at me invitingly. I snatch the plate from him and dig in, pushing the claggy texture of the tofu from the back of my throat.

  ‘How was nirvana?’ I ask with my mouth full.

  Ged looks smug. ‘Let us simply say that the girls’ camp is quite close by and, mercifully, secluded.’

  I wrinkle my nose.

  ‘Emilia said to tell you hello,’ Vince says. ‘After she was done beating us about the head with a stick for being perverts.’

  I choke on a laugh. ‘Did you talk to Maia?’

  ‘Off swimming, wasn’t she?’ he responds dejectedly. ‘But we’re going back next time we get the chance.’

  ‘You’re gonna get caught,’ Harrison says.

  Ged cries, ‘Don’t ill-wish us, cuz!’

  ‘I’m going to be there to tell you I told you so when you do.’

  ‘Singalong time!’ Mr Lewis calls from where the teachers are clustered over the other side of the fire. ‘Who’s for some Toto?’

  He starts strumming the unmistakable first few strains of ‘Africa’. Vince murmurs something that sounds like ‘merciful God’.

  My shin is starting to burn dully. I squint down at it. ‘Ugh,’ I groan, mopping the grazed part ineffectually with a serviette. ‘Gross.’

  ‘There’s a first-aid kit in all the cabins,’ Harrison says helpfully.

  Ged’s eyes light up with an idea. ‘Miss H!’ he calls across the fire. ‘Hamlet’s screwed up his leg – can we go back to our cabin and fix it?’

  Ms Hartnett stops shouting at Derrick Somers, who’s trying to set his beach towel on fire. She shields her eyes from the flames and appraises my leg for a moment. It must look sufficiently grim. ‘All right, but be back in half an hour.’

  ‘Of course, Miss.’

  We leave Harrison by the fire and the guys help me hobble down the path to our cabin.

  Ged turns around at the door, and whispers, ‘Can you chill here for twenty minutes or so?’

  I look from him to Vince and back again. ‘Where are you going?’

  Vince lights a cigarette guiltily.

  Ged grasps Len’s shoulder and mine. ‘If anyone asks, the leg was so munted we went to look for natural bush remedies,’ he says meaningfully.

  ‘Oh, brilliant. I’m going to be an accessory to the second dingo-sanctuary offspring.’

  ‘Come off it,’ Ged snorts. ‘A gentleman never travels anywhere unprepared.’

  Vince sings, ‘Don’t be silly, wrap your—’

  I slam the screen door in their faces.

  Then it’s just the two of us again in this too-small room.

  Wordlessly, Len pulls the steel first-aid box from the top shelf in the bathroom.

  My pulse lights in my neck, my ears, my wrists – but mostly in my leg, which is really starting to bother me.

  He sits down on one of the bunks and opens the kit on his lap. ‘Come here, then. Let’s see.’ He gestures for me to stand in front of him, between his legs.

  I swallow loudly, but do as I’m told.

  Len blots something that smells like bleach onto a piece of gauze. He starts dabbing at the gash gently, brow furrowed in concentration.

  I hold my breath, partly to stop myself from inhaling him and partly because freaking ow. He gets a spot of blood on the back of his hand.

  I am literally bleeding love.

  ‘Sorry.’ He leans in closer and staunches the wound with more antiseptic. It’s a mess, really, but unavoidably intimate.

  I’m still holding my breath.

  ‘It’s not deep. Just a sec.’ He finishes cleaning me up and spreads something else onto the cut itself, his fingers quick and careful, then covers everything with one of those stick-on bandages. ‘There. We won’t have to amputate after all.’

  I step back, admiring his handiwork. ‘How come you’re always looking after me?’ I ask, still feeling off-balance and chicken-shit, the blood loss making me bold.

  ‘Cause you’re hopeless.’ He smiles sideways.

  ‘I’m serious. Why?’

  Len shuts the metal lid and sets the box aside. He stands up, slowly, and leans forward so we’re face to face, his gaze locked on mine. ‘Why do you think?’

  ‘I don’t know what to think!’ I say honestly. I can’t look directly at him.

  ‘Because you’re overthinking it.’ He moves closer still, nothing separating us but an inch of charged air.

  ‘You’re pretending everything’s normal,’ I accuse in a whisper.

  ‘We were on a bus,’ he counters softly. ‘Also, I’m not pretending.’

  I can smell his breath. I can’t catch mine. ‘I … Still … You …’

  He tilts his head. ‘You are so dramatic, Hamlet,’ he breathes. ‘Not everything has to be a big thing.’

  I gulp. ‘What is it, then?’

  He doesn’t answer, just moves his palm to my shoulder. We’re standing so close he barely puts any pressure on it and my head dips forward.

  Len kisses me once, lingers for a minute, then leans away.

  It’s just like last night. No, it’s better – what’s up with that? This time I pull him back to me by the front of his shirt. His lips smile under mine. I forget to be embarrassed, or confused, or human. I’m a mouth and hands and a heart that’s a beating drum.

  We kiss fast slow fast, until all the bones in my body are mush (well, almost all of them).

  His tongue searches for mine. It’s still as much of a line as it was in Truth or Dare.

  This time I cross it.

  Then I cross it again.

  I grip the small of his back to keep from falling over, staggering back towards the window.

  Len makes a humming noise and steps sideways, yanking the curtains closed. He pushes me up against them until we’re connected, chest to hip.

  Does he have to be as good at this as he is with everything else? I’m dizzy. I break away to breathe for a second, which just makes him move across to my jaw. He grazes it with his teeth, which is holy—

  Merciful God, there’s footsteps outside.

  We spring apart like a bomb’s fallen between us. Ged clatters the door open, the sound reverberating through the room.

  ‘The girls’ve gone inside already!’ Vince shouts from behind him.

  ‘Wait. Why do you look weird?’ Ged’s eyes dart from my beetroot face to Len leaning against the wall with his arms folded, and back again. ‘Did you spew somewhere from the blood?’

  ‘Yeah,’ I lie. My voice comes out raspy. I hope it works to sell the effect.

  ‘Fucking hell, mate.’ Vince grimaces. ‘Even I can camp in this godforsaken country without completely losing my shit.’

  ‘Mmm.’ I don’t look at Len. Or I will lose it, all of it, everything.

  ‘Shall we go back, then?’ Ged asks. ‘Maybe a couple of bars of the rains in Africa will earn us some marshmallows.’

  ‘You guys go,’ I say. ‘I’ll be there in a sec.’

  Ged and Vince step into the cold, the screen slamming again.

  Once I’m sure they’re gone, I brace my hands on my knees. I hear Len step away from the wall, his soft footfalls coming to a stop in front of me.

  ‘So dramatic,’ he murmurs again in mock-reproof, and walks out the door.

  The rest of camp is a
blur after that. We’re surrounded all the time.

  I pretend – through breakfast, lunch and dinner. I pretend to care when Jess dumps Ged, and when she takes him back again after he finds her some questionable-looking flowers.

  I pretend to be responsible while delegating tasks with Martin, and when Vince gets caught smoking in the shower block.

  But at night the thoughts slip in, uninvited. X-rated flashbacks that wash through me like the moment when you turn on a tap but forget to adjust it, and the water’s so hot on your skin it’s ice. I don’t think I sleep more than a few hours the entire trip.

  I put on my best-mate face when Len comes first in the swim challenge on the last day. I holler the blokiest cheer I can muster.

  (I watch him, though. His wet collarbones. His school bathers. Did he always have such good … thighs?)

  It doesn’t feel like a phase.

  It feels like alive.

  We’re not alone again until we’re on the bus back to school, countryside spinning past the window.

  The chatter around us is light after the exhaustion of the last few days; half the guys are already asleep. His nearness makes me feel hot and twitchy and wide, wide awake.

  I plug my iPod in without turning any music on.

  ‘Cruise, Marry, Shag,’ Len says softly.

  I pull one earbud out. ‘Hmm?’

  ‘Come on, I made it up to you. Play me – I’m bored.’

  My cheeks flush. Is that what he thinks the other night was? Just ‘making it up’ to me? I want to ask. Also, I don’t. If he’s going to be weird and evasive, so will I.

  ‘Fine.’ I wind my headphones into a ball and shove them in my pocket.

  ‘All right … the chick from Paramore,’ he starts.

  I wrinkle my nose.

  ‘Dame Edna, or … Grace Kelly.’

  I tap my chin, considering. We’ve played this game a lot; I know from bitter experience that one false move and he’ll tease me about it for the foreseeable future.

  ‘Cruise with Dame Edna,’ I decide. ‘Marry Hayley Williams so she can sing me to sleep every night. And … I guess I’d sleep with Grace Kelly, wouldn’t I?’

  ‘Predictable.’

  ‘Who would you choose, then?’

  ‘Nope. Not my turn. Give me a new list.’