Cleave

What gives Hamlet’s ‘To be or not to be’ soliloquy such universal appeal and recognition? Explain your answer with examples.

“What the fuck?” I mouthed silently to myself as I read the final test question. It was also the final class of the day and I was restless. I just wanted to go home, but I knew I had to do well in this test. I’d studied hard for it because Max kept nagging me about getting good marks. I didn’t want to let him down. I read over the question again and again, but still had no idea how to answer it. As much as I had studied for this test I still found it difficult to answer most of the questions.
“Two minutes remaining,” Ms Jones barked at the class.
“Shit,” I groaned under my breath as Ms Jones happened to be walking past my desk. She stiffened slightly as she heard me but for once, didn’t say anything about my bad language. I struggled to regain my concentration and started to write some bullshit answer. I would never have enough time to get a proper answer to that question; I simply didn’t know how to tackle it.

“Okay, time’s up. Make sure your name is on the top of the front page and pass your tests down to the front of your rows,” Ms Jones said, and there was a loud rustling of papers as the class did as they were told. “Thank you. You may now continue reading ‘Hamlet’ quietly while I grade your papers. You can discuss passages with your deskmates but please keep the noise down.”

I begrudgingly picked my copy of ‘Hamlet’ up from the floor where I had left it and opened it, propping it up on my desk so it acted like a shield, before I pulled out my phone. I had one new message from Drew.

Drew: Let me know how your test goes
Angel: It sucked. I fucking hate English
I waited a few minutes before Drew wrote back.
Drew: Sucks man. You still in class?
Angel: Yeah. Another 20 mins

“Excuse me? Um…We’re meant to be reading…” the kid next to me said to timidly, interrupting my texted conversation with Drew. I couldn’t remember his name and I didn’t care. He looked terrified of me for some reason. I wondered why he was talking to me if I was so scary. I raised an eyebrow, and he kind of shrunk away.
“So?” I questioned.
“I um… N-never mind,” he said quietly.
“No, go on,” I said, letting a smirk play on my face. This was amusing; the last time someone was this scared of me was…
Micah. Shit.
“Well, um, I was reading this passage and I w-wanted to run my interpretation of it by someone, so…?” he said. I nodded in a way that got him to start talking while I let my mind wander back to the day school started again after the holiday break when Micah left.

The first thing I did when I arrived at the school was look for Isabelle. I figured that if anyone here would know anything about Micah leaving it would be her. I spotted her standing with a group of her friends near the library and marched over to her immediately. When I got closer to her, I pushed between two of her friends and grabbed her so that I was holding her at arm’s length by the shoulders.

“Do you know where he is?” I asked, shaking her slightly. Isabelle had a startled look on her face, like she had no idea what was happening in that moment. In the corner of my eye, I spotted her brother step towards me, reaching a hand out slightly, I guess to be prepared in case I was about to hurt Isabelle.

“Answer me!” I said aggressively as I shook her again a little harder.
“Hey, back off! Let go of my sister, Angel,” her brother said, putting his already extended hand on my shoulder and pulled on it slightly.
I dropped my hands off Isabelle’s shoulders and stepped away. “Sorry, sorry. I just… Where’s Micah? Please, I need to know,” I said desperately. I didn’t care that we were surrounded by people who were overly interested in my interaction with Isabelle, I just wanted answers.
“Angel, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t know where Micah is. He isn’t here?” Isabelle said calmly, but looking concerned.
“No. No. Fuck. He’s gone. I – I thought if anyone would, you’d… oh God, fuck,” I rambled. Isabelle grabbed my arm and pulled me away from the group.
“Angel, calm down. What is going on? What do you mean Micah’s gone?”

I took a deep breath. “His mom, she said that he left to regain his faith or some shit. But I don’t know where he went. I didn’t get to say goodbye…” I told her, my voice cracking slightly at the end. Isabelle stared at me for a few seconds.
“Um, what do you mean “regain his faith”? I don’t understand… I didn’t think you were that close. Why are you so upset?” she asked me.
“We were close. I – He… We were uh… together,” I said, waiting for her to blow up at me or something. I did, after all, basically steal her boyfriend.
“Oh,” she said quietly. “Well that makes a lot of things make sense now… Was he… I mean, were you um together while he was still with me?”
“Not officially, but we liked each other and kissed a few times,” I said awkwardly. I rushed on quickly, “Anyway, his mom found out and got really pissed and I didn’t get to talk to him for ages and then I went to his house a couple of days before New Year’s and she said he was gone.”

“Oh. Gosh. I had no idea about any of that. I might be able to ask his mom for you, if you want? We got on pretty well when Micah and I were dating,” Isabelle said.
“Yeah? Lucky you, she hates me.”
“That’s cause you turned Micah gay,” she said matter-of-factly, which made my blood boil. Why can’t people understand that you can’t “turn” someone gay, or straight, or bi or anything? They are what they are.
“It doesn’t work like that,” I muttered, with gritted teeth.
“Look, whatever happened, I’ll help you. I’ll ask his mom and let you know what she says, okay?” Isabelle said, and I nodded quickly.
“Thanks,” I replied, and, not knowing what else to say, I stood there for a few more awkward seconds before I turned and left to find Braden and Rochelle.

Isabelle told me a few days later that Micah’s mother wouldn’t tell her anything because she didn’t want anybody to know where he went in case they tried to contact Micah. I’d been holding so tightly onto the hope that Isabelle might be able to give me some information that when she came up empty the disappointment hit me hard. For nearly a week and a half I barely talked to anyone and it was only a phone call from a number I didn’t recognise that snapped me out of it. I answered it, hoping that it might have been Micah. It wasn’t. It was Max, and he could hear the disappointment in my voice when I found out he wasn’t who I expected. But he kept me talking, and it was the first time since school had started back that I actually found myself wanting to talk. He helped me a lot over the next few weeks and I started to get used to the idea that Micah wasn’t going to contact me. It still hurt. God, it hurt so much, but I got used to the pain.

---

“Angel!” I was dragged from my thoughts by Ms Jones standing in front of my desk and yelling my name.
“Yeah, what?” I replied, not really caring how rude I was being. She frowned.
“You need to work harder if you want to pass my class, Angel. A 68 isn’t good enough,” the teacher said, making me wince. A 68. Shit. I nodded glumly at Ms Jones and she walked away. I looked down at my marked test and sure enough, the number 68 was written on the top in bright red pen. My hand made a fist and I hit my forehead with it, not too hard but hard enough for it to hurt. I couldn’t believe I got such a shitty mark after studying for the stupid test.

“Max is gonna kill me,” I mumbled to myself as the bell rang. I gathered my stuff quickly and left the classroom. I headed straight to the parking lot where I waited for Braden and Chelle to meet me, and once they arrived, we headed home. I was nervous about telling Max about my test score but I decided to do it quickly, like ripping off a Band-Aid, so I drove to his house instead of going to Drew’s. I knew Max had a night shift so I wouldn’t be able to stay long anyway, and if he was going to be mad at me, that was completely fine by me.

“Hey babe,” Max said as soon as I walked into his apartment. He got up from his seat on the couch and came over to me and pecked me on the lips. “How was your day?”
“Pretty shitty,” I replied honestly. He pouted in sympathy. I leaned in to kiss him again before I pulled away with a sigh.
“Did you take your Shakespeare test?” he asked.
“Yeah. That’s why it was a shit day. I got a 68,” I said quietly. Max’s eyes narrowed in disappointment.
“A 68? But you studied heaps for that test, how did you only get a D+? Did you actually try?” he asked harshly.
“Yes,” I said defensively, “I did, actually. It was really hard.”
“What did the others in your class get? Did they think it was really hard, too?”
“I don’t fucking know! You’re not my goddamn parent, okay? My grades shouldn’t be that big of a deal to you,” I said loudly, getting really frustrated. He just didn’t get it. I was already feeling like shit for getting a terrible mark and now my boyfriend was making me feel even worse. I wanted him to make me feel better.
“I just want you to live up to the potential that I know you’re capable of,” he replied calmly after my outburst. He turned away from me to pick up his work bag from the floor. “I have to go to work. Are you staying?”
“Maybe,” I muttered. Max rolled his eyes at me and went to kiss me goodbye. I was still mad at him so I turned my head at the last minute, making him kiss my cheek instead. He rolled his eyes again and left, leaving me alone in his apartment.

After a few minutes of quiet fuming, I heard my phone ringing so I pulled it out of my pocket to answer it. It wasn’t a number programed into my phone.

“Hello?” I asked once I answered it.
“Hi, is that Angel Jerome?” a perky female voice on the other end replied.
“Um, yeah. Who’s this?”
“My name is Jody. I’m the store manager at the McDonald’s restaurant you recently put an application in to for a job. Are you still interested in a position with us?”
“Oh, uh, yeah. Yeah, I am,” I stuttered, surprised.
“Great! Are you able to come in for a trial run on Saturday morning starting at 11? You have the job but we need to make sure you’re a good fit, you know?” she said happily. God, she was so fucking perky. I hoped I wouldn’t have to work too much with her.
“Yeah, Saturday at 11 is good. Um, what should I wear?”
“Just some black pants, enclosed shoes and we’ll give you a work shirt so whatever you want on the top. Can’t wait to see you on Saturday! Bye-bye!” she said before she hung up the phone.

I pulled my phone away from my ear and stared at it for a few seconds, slightly confused, until it hit me. I just got a job.

At McDonald’s. Fun.