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Mr MacDonald brought in
The Complete Works of Shakespeare
. It was a very fat book. A total lack of knowledge of Shakespearean plays didn’t stop anyone voicing a loud opinion on which one they should choose.
    “Let’s do
Romeo and Juliet
. Everyone’s heard of that.”
    “Nah, it’s got kissing in it,” Peter said. “I’m not kissing any girls on stage.”
    “Would you prefer to kiss a boy, Pete?” Drago asked.
    Peter ignored him.
    “It’s got to be one with lots of sword fights.”
    “Who asked you, Jesus?”
    “It has to have plenty of girls’ parts,” Roula said, “not all battles and war.”
    “There’s
King Lear
,” Mr MacDonald said. “He’s got three daughters.”
    “Does anyone die?”
    “Of course. People always die.”
    “Let’s do a funny one,” Hailie said.
    “How about
A Midsummer Night’s Dream
?” Mr MacDonald suggested.
    “What’s that about?” Roula asked.
    “Fairies.”
    Jesus was unimpressed. “No chance.”
    Mr MacDonald held up his hand to stop the arguing. He started scribbling on a piece of paper.
    “I’m writing down the names of every Shakespeare play.”
    “How many are there?” Jesus asked.
    “About forty.”
    When he’d finished, Mr MacDonald used a ruler to rip the paper into strips. He whipped Peter’s baseball cap off his head and put the pieces of paper in it.
    “Hailie, pick one. Don’t look!”
    She reached in, picked out a strip and squinted at the writing.
    “
Richard the Third
.”
    They all turned to Mr MacDonald. His smile faded.
    “Is it a good one?” Drago asked.
    “Not exactly the one that springs to mind when you think of snappy musical numbers.”
    “What’s it about?” Peter asked.
    “It’s about a hunchback duke who kills his brother and two nephews so that he can become king.”
    “Sounds awful,” Hailie said.
    “There’s a battle.”
    Jesus was pleased.
    Mr MacDonald sent the girls to photocopy the play. When they returned, everyone stared at their photocopies as if they were written in Klingon. Even Velvet.
    “I can’t understand any of this,” Hailie complained.
    “You just have to pick out the key scenes. The exciting bits.”
    “There aren’t any,” Peter grumbled.
    Jesus threw his photocopy aside. “Why isn’t it written in normal words? It sounds weird.”
    “It was written 400 years ago.” Velvet was pleased to be able to show off her literary knowledge.
    “Yeah?”
    “People spoke differently then.”
    “You mean people actually went around saying stuff like ‘Good time of day unto your royal grace’ instead of ‘wassup’?”
    “I don’t know, Drago. I suppose so.”
    “Come on, guys, let’s concentrate on this.” Mr MacDonald started pacing around like a real teacher. “The first scene is called a soliloquy because Richard is talking to himself. He’s got an inferiority complex. He’s got a hunched back and a withered hand. Women think he’s creepy. He’s also got a popular hunk of a brother.”
    “King Edward,” Velvet said.
    “Right. Richard’s angry. He wishes the war wasn’t over. He was victorious in battle. A hero. He was happier fighting battles than going to polite social functions. So what does he do?”
    “Talks to himself.”
    “Yes, but what is he plotting while he’s talking to himself?”
    “Ummm.”
    “Velvet?”
    “He wants to be king. But he’s the youngest so he has to get rid of his brothers first.”
    Jesus peered at the play. “How’d you work that out?”
    “Velvet’s right. He makes his brother Edward, the king, suspect that Clarence …”
    “Who’s he?” Drago was having trouble understanding the play.
    “The other brother,” Velvet explained.
    “Richard fools King Edward into thinking that their brother Clarence wants to be king and is about to kill his young sons,” Mr MacDonald continued. “Why does Richard want to do that?”
    The cultural studies students studied the photocopies with furrowed brows.
    “’Cos he’s a