The Director, page 24
I was trying hard not to let my nerves lose control.
Claudia, take a breath, John said, but his voice faded into the background of my mind. Another voice was taking his place. I wondered if John could hear it too. He hadn’t given any indication the last time the voice had spoken.
Claudia, the voice said.
Not now, I chided.
Control your power, it demanded.
How did it know?
Control it. They’re watching. They must never know you exist. Claudia, control your power.”
“For Claudia Belle as your Queen?” Ms. Johnson asked with a grin.
More cheers erupted. John’s friends were cheering as well. They didn’t sound any different to me.
Ms. Johnson motioned me. The crowd cheered again.
She motioned Rachel and the cheering continued. This happened a few times.
Above, the rattling spread to the next sprinkler and the next. My eyes closed; I was trying to do my breathing exercises. This always helped.
Control, the voice said.
“I’m trying,” I whispered out loud to myself.
Claudia, relax, John coached.
The cheering amplified; again, Ms. Johnson did her dance with the crowd, motioning to Rachel and then me in turn. The crowd clapped and hailed and whistled. Rachel even did a little dance on stage to impress her fans below.
Control! the voice yelled. It felt like it was right in my ear. The man’s voice screamed again: be normal!
A flash of my father’s face grew behind my eyes. He was grabbing my shoulders and screaming at me after we had left and stood outside the elementary school I’d attended. He left me by the stairs and began walking away. I stumbled behind him; he was angry.
He stopped as I hurried behind.
I wanted to cry.
He turned to scold me. “I’ve told you many, many times, Claudia. You have to learn to control your power! What have I said about that?”
“But, Daddy—”
He kneeled, staring angrily right through me. “You could have killed that boy! Do you understand what you did? This is not a game! What if someone saw you?” he snarled as he grabbed me.
I flinched and pushed at his mind. His anger grew. It was a reaction I hadn’t meant to have.
“Don’t do that again,” he firmly said. “I’m protecting you; can’t you see that? What if someone saw what you did? Do you want them to take you away from us? Do you want hi—” He stopped short and shook my shoulders.
“Do you?” he prompted when I didn’t answer any of his questions.
“No,” I sobbed.
He rose and stood. I could see the anger on his face. He was disgusted with me and he let me know. He was gifted, like me; he could make me feel his anger.
“You’re lucky no one will believe that little boy. The next time you may not be so lucky. Be normal; that’s all I ask.”
“I’m trying, Daddy.”
“Try harder,” he ordered sternly.
He pointed towards the car. I walked very slowly, and he followed, opening the door so I could climb in.
I was pulled out of school ...
A steady breath escaped my mouth as the rattling above seemed to settle.
Control, the voice urged again.
Miss Belle? Claudia? Are you alright? Where did you go just then? John’s voice called.
I wasn’t even sure.
Rachel bowed as the crowd clapped. Once again, I heard people chanting my name. “Claudia! Claudia!”
Rachel seemed shocked.
My heart raced. Above, things seemed to have settled. The danger had been averted for now, but I still faced the chanting crowd.
I took a step forward. Above, the sprinklers exploded and water began to rain down. Everyone screamed and scattered.
Rachel glanced over, enraged; she wanted to launch herself at me, but was too afraid. “You freak!” she shouted. “You ruined my dress! You ruined my prom!” She ran off the stage along with everyone else racing to get out.
The lights flickered. The microphone sparked. I heard the voice again, but it was John who caught me as I collapsed.
22
THE DREAM
CLAUDIA
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.
23
GRADUATION
CLAUDIA
June, Friday 5pm, TSU
* * *
Finally, the moment of truth came. I was in my room getting into my gown. Michael was downstairs waiting. I rushed down the steps as John came through the front door.
“You ready, darling?” John asked, pulling me close.
John was dressed handsomely in a navy-blue suit and flashy tie, the second time I had seen him in such clothing. The first time was the dinner I had failed to attend with Dr. Nicholson. I had to stop and fingered the tie. Curious, I then began to trace the fabric of the suit.
Are you ready, Miss Belle?
I smiled back. After today … are we …? The question lingered in my thoughts.
John knew what I meant and nodded.
I tried to picture it. Would we leave under the cover of night, or would it be right after the ceremony?
Are you afraid?
A little, I admitted. Have you spoken to Joseph?
John froze, paralyzed by the sudden attention I was giving him. I don’t know what drew me in, but he looked very well put together. His brown-blond locks were neatly and freshly cut and brushed to the side of his head. Clear, piercing green eyes were focused, bold, and magical, staring deep into mine.
We were connected, and it was getting stronger. We answered each other in thought without trying to project, felt feelings and merged mentally. Between us there was a web of energies and surges, mostly from me. There was a constant, smooth flow of currents pulsating between us. I was the conductor. He was the connection, the wire of our current. Like the fuel for a flame—he was the flame, I was his fuel.
John nodded slowly, hypnotized by my gaze and my eager hands still handling the fabric of his suit.
He hasn’t told me much of what he plans. He wants the element of surprise when he does … whatever it is.
I thought that was odd, but he was the guardian. In a way, I guess it made sense. Dr. Nicholson was hard to convince.
You trust him? I asked, which surprised me. I trusted him, but I had never read his mind to know what he thought about, or what he felt.
There was a slight hesitation, which I wouldn’t have noticed it if I hadn’t already sensed his stirring emotions. You have doubts?
No, it’s not that, Miss Belle. He was downplaying it.
Grabbing his tie, I pulled him close; I could feel he liked that. He looked intoxicated, focused on the moment, as my lips neared his.
Maybe, he finally admitted. A little.
I grinned. It was obviously on his mind. He didn’t have to say more. “You look very handsome,” I whispered.
I heard a throat clear; Michael was opening the door. “You can do that later; we have to get going. Come on, or you’ll miss graduation.”
John grabbed my hand and pulled me out the door while Michael stood aside and then ushered us out.
My cheeks reddened slightly. He motioned and we hurried to the side street where John’s car was waiting. Michael walked over to his own car.
“I thought he was coming with us?” I asked John.
He shrugged and opened the door for me.
Michael glanced over, noticing me look back. “You kids go; I’m taking my car. I’m the Assistant Principal; I have responsibilities. I doubt your uncle would like it if I’m late, John.”
“Naw, you’re his number two, sir.”
That seemed to catch Michael off-guard. He was lost for a moment, considering the meaning of John’s words. Was there some truth to that his eyes asked?
I nudged John. “Is that true?” I whispered.
“Of course,” he said nonchalantly.
I climbed in.
John walked around and got into the car as well. He gazed over and smiled. “You ready?” His green eyes sparkled. A hue of gold began to emerge from the outer iris, creating a wonderful magical dance.
We were both ready, dressed in our blue graduation gowns. We were ready for the biggest day of our lives.
John started the car and we began to move. Michael’s car had already pulled away from the driveway and was far ahead of us.
We arrived fairly quickly, found a parking spot, and hurried inside. John took hold of my hand as he pulled me with him into the university building where Milton would hold graduation.
Inside, it was chaotic; students were everywhere, along with their parents, family members and family friends.
John led me away; he seemed to know where to go. I was happy for that as I had no idea. I was lost in the many minds and thoughts. The crowded place put chaos in my head.
The auditorium was so large it looked like a stadium. I caught sight of some teachers I recognized; then, I spotted Mr. Claypool and Mr. Vasquez.
There were signs at each entry. A line started at one end, where Mr. Claypool and Mr. Vasquez were directing students to move into the center of the auditorium where we would be seated.
John led me in that direction, handing me my cap as we hastened toward the assistant principals. A woman came to block our path and John and I nearly ran into her.
24
ILLUSION
JOHN
“John? You’re Dr. Müller’s nephew, right? Have you seen him?” A blond I recognized to be Ms. Stephens asked.
She pushed at her hair, pressing her lips tightly together.
My gaze seemed to invite a smile. I guess I was giving her the look most men did. She was very attractive, and she knew it. I felt jealousy stirring in Claudia when she approached. I had avoided the woman like the plague for no real reason. She was just not in my immediate things to care for.
Claudia squeezed my hand. What does she want? Her voice rang in my head. I wanted to know the same.
“No, Ms. Stephens,” I said politely. “We just got here ourselves. I would bet he’s getting preparations ready. He is the key speaker and principal.” Wouldn’t she already know that?
She gave a slight frown, wondering if I was being a little smart ass. Yes, I was.
Claudia giggled. Ms. Stephens furrowed her brow at her.
“Oh, John, call me Karen. We are practically related with me dating your handsome uncle.”
