Moving on the bed, I felt I was home. I didn’t want to get up; I didn’t want to open my eyes. I felt a hand on my head.
“Daddy, I had a bad dream.”
“There, there, it’s alright,” the soothing voice said.
“Daddy?”
“Yes,” the voice said, but it didn’t sound like my father’s.
“You didn’t listen, did you, Claudia?”
“I’m sorry.” I opened my eyes, unable to see his face. “Daddy, I’m sorry.”
“I told you to control your power, Claudia,” he continued.
“I’m sorry.” My eyes fluttered open, trying to focus on the disappointment in his features.
“It’s okay,” the voice said, changing tone. He had an accent I couldn’t make out, but I had heard it before in another.
“This is who you are, my darling,” That didn’t sound like my father; his voice was one of disappointment. This was the voice of encouragement. This voice was soothing and kind.
“I want you to be you,” it said, taking the words straight from my thoughts.
“But you said to be normal.”
“Normal is not what you are, Claudia. No, you are extraordinary, my darling.” My father had never used those words.
“Father?”
I remembered the prom as I sat up. It was dark in my room. A man reached out and put a hand to my cheek; he pushed back a lock of my hair. The darkness concealed the features of his face, but there was something familiar about him, something scary.
I reached to turn the light on. Dr. Nicholson sat on the side of the bed, stroking my cheek. He was wearing that same gray suit he wore the day he had given me a ride to school.
He’ll find her, the ghostly memory whispered. He’ll know …
“There, there my child. Daddy is here. There is nothing to be afraid of. I will encourage your gifts. I will give meaning to your existence, my love,” he whispered softly, smiling in that condescending way.
I pulled away and shut my eyes, wishing him away.
“You’re not real, you’re not,” I gasped. Why was I thinking about Dr. Nicholson? Why was John’s boss in my room, haunting me? Why was he in my mind? What was I seeing? I still felt his hand there. I pressed my eyes tightly shut.
“Claudia?” The voice was different now.
I slowly opened my eyes; John was seated on the bed, looking down at me as I lay flat on the bed. It had been a dream? It was so real. Nothing made sense anymore.
Michael was standing behind him. He looked worried. “You okay, Claudia?” he asked, coming closer. “You fainted.”
Miss Belle, you gave us a scare; you gave me a scare.
I tried to remember what had happened.
Bad dreams, Miss Belle.
“I’m sorry,” I murmured.
“For what?” John said with a smile. “You didn’t do anything. You have nothing to do with what happened with the sprinkler system.”
I looked at him quizzically. There had been no other reason the pipes had burst. It had to be my doing.
Not every strange incident is your fault, Miss Belle. John winked. Michael didn’t notice.
“The fire chief confirmed it was a faulty sprinkler system,” Michael explained.
The fire department had been called? I felt horrible.
“The hotel manager had to admit they’ve had trouble with those sprinklers before. For that reason alone, the school gets its deposit back,” Michael added, but he looked doubtful. He was happy to have something to keep him from admitting the truth he suspected.
Denial, John thought. Sometimes ignorance is bliss, Miss Belle.
I guess.
I gazed at them both as if they were strangers. So, this wasn’t my fault?
Well, no.
A part of me was relieved, but I didn’t fully believe John.
“Are you okay? You scared us,” Michael stated.
“I think I was just overwhelmed with the night,” I responded. “It was magical, in a way.”
Michael smiled and moved to the door. “I’ll give you kids some privacy,” he said, which surprised me. “I’m glad you’re okay, sweetheart.” He walked out of my room, leaving the door slightly ajar.
John eyed me closely. “You sure you’re okay?”
“Yes,” I smiled. “Why?”
“You were dreaming and arguing with your father just before Michael entered the room.”
I looked away. “A bad dream.” If it meant anything more, I wasn’t ready to accept it. “I guess the encounter with Dr. Nicholson left me more shaken than I first thought.”
“It’s not a surprise, Claudia. You’ve only known him for a short while.”
I was aware of that. I couldn’t imagine the horrors he had to go through with that man every day of his life.
“It was easy at first, since I didn’t know him as I know him now. But now, this whole thing involves you, Miss Belle.”
“I know, John, that’s why I feel horrible for you.”
He chuckled. “It’s nothing I can’t handle, baby. Still, having dreams of your father … I don’t like him, I’ll be honest.”
He had been far more than honest. It kind of brushed me the wrong way.
“Can you blame me, babe?” he asked responding to my feelings about his admission.
John reached out and gently stroked my cheek, his touch charged and pulsating, I felt the tingle race through me. I knew he felt it too by the way he gasped when our skin touched.
“He keeps haunting me. It’s just something he kept saying about the bad people. I’m sorry.” I touched his hand. I had ruined our prom with my dreams and my unfocused mind.
“But I sense this isn’t your father that’s now haunting you.”
I had tried to keep that from my mind, but I couldn’t keep anything from him. We were too connected.
“He’s found a way to merge himself into my father’s image,” I said regarding the dream I had about Dr. Nicholson acting like my father. “I don’t know why I’m dreaming of him in that manner.”
“It was just a dream,” John said lightly.
I didn’t believe him.
“He even gives me nightmares. Your mind must have found a way to merge him with the idea of your father. It was just a bad dream,” he repeated.
I changed the subject. “I’m sorry about the prom.”
John shook his head. “Don’t be.” He took my hand and held it in his, squeezing tightly.
“You don’t know, do you?” I had a flash of the prom, the water raining over everything. The students rushing out and Rachel’s harsh words screaming at me that I was a freak. Just like back in the restroom, when I had knocked the pipe down and drenched them.
“You’re not a freak. She was wrong to say that to you. If she only knew what I was, I bet she would think twice about pursuing me.” John winked.
I guess I never thought about that. I loved how he could always offer a different way of looking at things.
“Know what?’ I asked in regard to what he had first said.
John grinned again. “You won.” He reached to the side of the bed, where a small bag sat; he pulled out a crown and a golden sash with the title Prom Queen printed across it. He handed out the items. “You’re Milton’s new Prom Queen.”
Taking the crown I stared at it, dumbfounded. This was my prize. Did this mean I was normal, at last?
John had tilted his head as I’d asked myself that question. He offered the same smile he’d often given. “You’re my normal, Miss Belle,” he said as if there was no other deciding factor, then kissed me.