The Pineville Heist Read Free Page A

blonde hair often, and her glossed lips looked angelic as she helped the students speak in 17 th century prose.
    It wasn't inconceivable that any one of them had a shot with her. It wasn't outside the realm of possibilities. One day their age differences wouldn't matter. So, perhaps, maybe, who knows. It happens all the time; there was a case recently featured on CNN, thought Aaron, before shaking it off. Too weird. His mind wandered back to waiting for the right moment to make his entrance.
    “This is Shakespeare guys, not Tennessee Williams,” Amanda announced from the side of the room. She was watching two boys dressed in Elizabethan clothing as they acted out the final scene in Hamlet in front of an audience of fellow students. “He wrote the words that way for a reason. Keep going.”
    One of the boys, Mike, leaned on his sword. The plastic blade bent and he looked down as it was starting to give way under his weight. “Do we get to use real ones on Monday, Miss Becker?”
    “Yes, Michael, you get to use the real one during the play, now please continue.”
    “Now cracks a noble heart. Good night sweet prince,” Mike said, jumping back into character, as Amanda stepped towards the stage.
    Peering into the room, Aaron knew he couldn't wait any longer; he decided to slip in now, and hopefully Miss Becker wouldn't interrupt the rehearsal just to bite his head off. He sauntered in and slid into the nearest empty seat. “Aaron! What time do you call this?”
    Aaron released a long sigh. It was going to be one of those days. He looked over his shoulder at Miss Becker and she was already crooking her finger, beckoning him to the back of the class. Her face was a mask of displeasure and nothing like the fantasy conjured up by his television fantasies.
    “I thought you took this role seriously, Aaron,” Amanda whispered in hushed tones.
    “I do, Miss Becker, I do,” Aaron whispered back to her, lifting his copy of Hamlet–considerably worse for wear after its dunk in the puddle. Amanda cast her eyes over the disheveled book and it appeared that her disappointment was gaining momentum.
    “If you really want to be a professional on Broadway someday, you need to realize how the simple act of being late can affect the entire production. The play is called Hamlet… and you're Hamlet,” she said, poking him in the chest with a ruby-polished nail. “That means this whole thing rests on your shoulders. Understand?”
    Aaron looked down at his dirty shoes and then back into Amanda's eyes. “Yeah, but it's not my fault. My dad's in the middle of some stupid deal and couldn't drive…”
    “Another part of being a responsible actor is taking your lumps and not passing the buck. Okay?”
    “Okay, Miss Becker. I apologize for being late,” responded Aaron. “Should I jump in?”
    “Yes, Aaron, please join the group. We can't practice 'Ham-let' without Hamlet,” Amanda said as she patted Aaron on the shoulder.
    Aaron moved to the front of the class, glancing back at Miss Becker, who was staring out the window, arms crossed. Just when Aaron was becoming worried that Amanda was extremely angry with him, she pulled herself away from the window, smiled and focused on the group of teens at the front of the stage, assessing their stances and stage placements.
    Aaron also assessed the small group, but with a less Shakespearean focus. The group consisted of about ten students, who played the characters of the last scene. Most of the students were dressed in modern clothing, most of which werecheap knock offs from discount stores. With t-shirts, baggy shorts, and tank tops matching the shaggy modern hairstyles, the group looked more apt for a run on the beach than recite classic lines.
    The group surrounded the two main characters of this portion of the scene, Hamlet and Horatio, played by Pete and Mike. The two stood facing one another, ready to act out the final scene.
    Mike, who played Horatio, was certainly not a modern day