excerpted from

Hit The Road, Drac

by Kate Carlisle

 

 

MADISON’S JOURNAL

Saturday, June 15 – 4:00 p.m.

Okay, nobody can read this, especially my mother. I’ve entered it under a separate password and I might even delete it after I’ve written it down and absorbed it. But first I need to spill my guts.

My brain seems to be moving at supersonic speed. There’s so much I need to say, even though everything is going to sound like a stupid cliché, but here goes.

I feel like a totally new person. Rejuvenated or something. Seriously, I feel really...different. Crazy, right? But being with my dad, it’s like I absorbed some of his...I don’t know what to call it. It’s like...power. He’s got this amazing sense of control over stuff. Like, the environment is calmer when he’s around. Something. Okay, stop me, because I don’t have a clue what I’m talking about.

But he likes me! I know...Sally Field moment. It’s so incredibly lame. But OMG, it’s absolutely insane how much self-confidence that gave me. And ha-ha, I’m not exactly lacking in that area. In fact, I think I’m pretty fabulous most of the time. But now I feel like I could move a mountain or something.

Like I said. Cliché city.

So, here’s what really happened after he got out of the limo. He stared at my house for a minute, then walked to the front steps. I’d already opened the door but kept the screen door latched. I saw the Bensons working in their front yard so I waved at them and they waved back and I knew I was safe because they were watching the whole thing. Believe me, I’m not an idiot when it comes to talking to strangers.

So anyway, he goes, “Madison, I’m your father.”

Just like that. I mean, hello Darth Vadar! But it was cool. There was none of that “Hello, little girl, what’s your name?” crap. No, he said it right out, “I’m your father.” And his voice was like, echoing in my head, it was so deep and commanding.

And I was like, “Yeah, I know.”

So then he stretches out his arms and he’s got this big smile on his face and maybe it was crazy but I threw open the screen door and ran into his arms and it was that simple.

But now it gets a little bizarre. In a good way, I mean. At least, I hope it was good.

We’re standing on the front porch talking, sort of absorbing each other’s presence, I guess you could say. I mean, I was feeling sort of shy, which is not my usual style, and he was probably completely mystified about talking to his own kid for the first time ever. But in spite of all that, it wasn’t uncomfortable at all.

Which is totally weird, isn’t it?

And I didn’t even ask him where’d he’d been all my life. I mean, it didn’t come up. Guess I’ll ask another time because, well, I need to know.

But anyway, we were talking about my school and summer and stuff, and his limo driver comes up and says real quietly in his ear, “Highness, you will be late for your conference if we don’t leave immediately.”

And the thing is? I probably wouldn’t have heard the guy normally, but it was like all of a sudden, my senses were on red alert. I could hear stuff I’ve never heard before, as clear as anything. Like, we live a couple blocks from a little league field, and I could hear the umpire calling strikes. Even weirder, I could smell the hot dogs they were selling at the snack shack. Let me assure you, that’s never happened before.

You know how they talk about those key moments in your life when everything becomes crystal clear and your senses are heightened? Well, this was one of those moments.

Anyway, this guy calls my father “Highness.” And dad--hard to think of him as “dad” but we’ll use it for now--gives him a look that could kill and the guy visibly shrinks, then skulks back down the stairs and waits by the limo, his shoulders all hunched like he got sent to bed without dessert.

Seems like dad’s got some control issues, just like me, only on a slightly more elevated level, I’m guessing.

So I’m staring at the limo driver standing all embarrassed by the car, and his words sink in. And I’m like, “Highness? What’s that supposed to mean?”

And dad frowns. “We’ll discuss it tonight.” Did I mention he’s got this Scottish accent that’s totally Ewan MacGregor?

“No, I think we should discuss it right now,” I say, and then I wonder, when did I turn into Sydney Bristow? And that thought is followed quickly by, yeah, nice knowing you, daddy. Because he looks like the kind of guy who doesn’t take much back talk from anyone. But instead of telling me to buzz off, his whole face changes as he breaks into this big fat grin and starts laughing.

Laughing. In a good way, I think.

And he goes, “You’re absolutely right, Princess.”

And I’m like ready to burst into tears because I never had a father around to call me princess, and he pulls me into his arms again and hugs me, then he lets go and looks me right in the eye and says, “You, my beautiful girl, are Her Royal Highness, Princess Madison Petrovskya MacDougall, heir to the throne of Dalrhianna.”

And I stare at him, probably all bug-eyed, then blurt out, “Oh, r-i-g-h-t. And you’re from what planet?”

And he’s all laughing again and I’m like, whatever.

So then he had to leave, but he said he’d be back at seven o’clock and we’d go to dinner and talk some more.

Sure, like we’ll have a nice, father-princess talk.

Right. Happens every day.

It’s funny because I remember when mom took me to see The Princess Diaries and I had this brilliant idea that maybe my daddy wasn’t really dead. Maybe he was really a king and then I could be a princess, too. And she goes, “Maybe, sweetie.” And I thought, cool, it could happen. Mom said so. Of course, I was an idiot ten-year-old at the time, so what did I know?

Oh, there’s the phone. Maybe it’s my dad!

 

---

 

It was my mom calling.

She’s all freaking out and a small, evil part of me is glad. I know that sounds harsh but she hurt me, you know? I mean, come on, mom. Did you ever consider your DAUGHTER needs you slightly more than your stupid friend SANDRA and her Lake Tahoe condo???? Whatever. Anyway, we talked and mom cried and kept saying she was sorry she didn’t tell me about my dad sooner but she had her reasons and whatever. And I guess we’ll be fine once she gets back to town. I don’t hold grudges, so I’m pretty much over the whole anger thing. Pretty much.

And besides, I finally got to meet my father, who is totally awesome, so I’m feeling magnanimous about things.

But speaking of my dad, I haven’t gotten to the weirdest part of the whole story.

As he was leaving, he reached out to touch my hair. And when he made contact, I suddenly saw, as clear as daylight, a huge, ancient castle as big as a town, perched on a rugged cliff overlooking the ocean and surrounded by green meadows and rolling hills and a forest and stuff. It was like nothing I’d ever seen before.

When the vision faded, he winked at me and said, “It’s all yours, Princess.”

So, that’s completely bizarre, right? I was thinking maybe he’s a hypno-therapist or something. My mom went to one of them last year after her Krispy Kreme addiction reached three boxes a day.

Anyway, my point is, I don’t know what happened, but trust me, there’s no way on earth I’m a freaking royal princess.

It’s just weird, that’s all I’m saying.

 

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