Lemon Read Online Free Page B

year when he made us read Love’s Labour’s Lost, Shakespeare’s second all-time most boring play. I can’t stand all this love-at-first-sight bilge, couples obsessing over each other before they’ve even had a conversation. People are always blaming Hollywood for our screwed-up perceptions of romance, but as far as I’m concerned, it started with Shakespeare. All those guys and gals swooning over each other from a distance. Get them alone in a room to hash it out, don’t make us numb our asses for two and a half acts before they get it together. Even then they don’t have a serious conversation, just exchange the old wedding vows. Happy happy happy. All those pretty boys in dresses. No wonder Will was a queer.
    â€˜Limone?’ Huff says. ‘Why don’t you have a go at the fairy queen?’
    Limone is the name
Zippy cursed me with. I changed it to Lemon when I was six. This upset Zippy because she thought Limone was French and classy.
    â€˜Why,’ I inquire, hoping to delay reading until the bell, ‘does Titania cave to Oberon?’
    â€˜Interesting question.’
    Huff always says, ‘Interesting question,’ because he’s so excited anybody even has a question.
    â€˜Why,’ he repeats loudly, I guess because he’s hoping to wake a few dozers, ‘does Titania succumb to Oberon?’ He peers over his reading glasses. ‘Any ideas?’
    â€˜It’s because she’s drugged,’ I point out.
    â€˜Is that the only reason?’ Huff queries, hands clasped behind his back in scholar mode.
    Queen Bee Kirsten puts up her hand. ‘I think she was attracted to him all along.’
    â€˜Based on what?’ I say without putting up my hand. I never put up my hand. I figure these duffers are lucky I bother to participate. They’re just passing time, counting paycheques till the pension kicks in.
    â€˜He’s sexy,’ Kirsten says. ‘That’s obvious.’
    â€˜How is that obvious?’
    â€˜Interesting question,’ Huff says. ‘How is that obvious?’
    Kirsten thinks hard, twirling her hair.
    â€˜She talks about him all the time,’ Nicole of the party we’re not invited to says.
    â€˜She doesn’t talk about him,’ I say. ‘She talks about the changeling boy. She doesn’t give a rat’s fart about Oberon, she wants the boy.’
    â€˜She wants the boy because she wants Oberon,’ Kirsten says. ‘That’s obvious.’
    Everything is always obvious to Kirsten.
    â€˜How is that obvious?’ I ask again.
    â€˜Interesting question,’ Huff says. ‘How is it obvious she wants Oberon?’
    â€˜She’s always talking about him,’ Kirsten says.
    â€˜She’s not always talking about him,’ I repeat. ‘She’s talking about the changeling boy.’ It could go on like this for hours. Huff starts pacing, excited by the stimulating discussion.
    â€˜It’s date rape,’ I say. ‘Dope ’em and do ’em.’ Gasps are heard, then snorts. Huff takes off his glasses and rubs the bridge of his nose. The bell goes. I jet out of there.
    In need of air I head for the track, hang my head off the bleachers and watch the world upside down. Looks better this way. People have to work at holding on to the planet, they can’t just loiter. Feet are put down with purpose, bodies move with conviction.
    I don’t think Zippy actually meant to hurt me when she attempted to kill me. I think she was trying to save me from suffering. That’s all it’s been for her, one big trial. She often said, ‘This is a trial,’ or ‘What a trial.’ I don’t know what she was on trial for – burning the macaroni? Failing to keep up with the laundry? Failing to provide sucky-fucky for old Damian? I think he was happy with her for about five seconds, before her tits fell and her neediness got on his nerves. She