The Tumultuous Tales Of Kitty Tatum

Pay No Attention to the Naked Girl Behind the Kurtain

When my feet hit the ground, I said a silent prayer. The campus bustled around me and I was intoxicated by the chaos.

"Katherine," my mother called from the back of the car, "come get your bag."

My shoulders dropped at the sound of her voice and I begrudgingly followed orders. In an hour, I'll be free.

After prying my hideous pink suitcase from the trunk, the wheels hit the cobblestone and trailed behind me.

"I still don't know why you insisted on bringing so little," mom chirped as we made our way down what might as well have been the yellow brick road.

"Less to pack when it's time to come home," I answered, focused on everything but the farm I left behind. Also, more space to buy all new things away from the scrutinizing eye of the church.

While my mother narrowed her eyes at everything that moved, I gawked at the building in front of me. Gothic arches and stained glass, reminiscent of the chapels I spent my childhood in, stared back at me; but mom was less than impressed.

"Look at her skirt," she scoffed, turning away from the building, "it's so short, you can see the bottom of her buttcheeks." I followed her glare to a girl across the quad. She danced over the grass, free from judgment.

Well, besides my mother.

As her skirt fluttered in the wind and the evening sun shimmered over her golden hair, something stirred inside of me. Before it could cause trouble, I stuffed it down from where it came. Like always.

I cleared my throat. "I'm sure someone will say something." Appeasing my ever-critical mother had become second nature to me. I climbed the steps of my new home, thankful that our road trip was finally coming to an end.

"They better," she huffed as we entered the building. "I almost feel bad for the poor girl."

I did too. No one deserves to be judged by a complete stranger.

In an effort to forget the thorn in my side, I glanced around the room. The vaulted ceilings and grand chandeliers heightened the emotions coursing through me. Without the prying eyes of the church, I could lift my shoulders and meet the gazes of the other students.

Still, when we reached the front of the line, my mother took the lead. "I'm here to check my daughter in." Her thick southern accent mirrored my own, making me question how well I'd fit in at the northern university.

The lady at the front desk looked between the two of us and grinned. "Well, isn't that sweet, what's your name?"

"Katherine Tatum," I squeaked out as if I was still a six-year-old praying in front of the congregation for the first time.

Luckily, if the lady noticed, she didn't say anything. After a few clicks of the computer, the printer roared into action behind the counter. A moment later and I was handed the key card to my new room. "Alright, you should be all set."

I smiled, fought the temptation to thank her profusely, and gripped the handle of my bag. I was one elevator ride away from starting a whole new chapter in my life, one where I'm the author.

"Hurry up." My mom rushed me along, already forcing her way into the elevator and holding the doors open. I smiled apologetically at the other riders before squeezing into the last available empty space.

The elevator whirred before dropping, just enough to trigger a panic attack, and then opened. A stream of people pushed around me to escape the stale, boring jazz music.

I can't even blame them.

I waited as the other passengers scurried with their bags to discover their new dorms. Finally, after five stops, we arrived at my floor.