The day I grew a tail started off pretty normal. I woke up, got ready for school, and caught the bus after saying good bye to my dad. On the bus I couldn't really get comfortable in my seat, but no biggie. I'm not all the way awake until lunch time, anyway. I didn't even notice anything off until fourth hour.
"Miss Rowan, I would appreciate it if you could keep still during class," my English teacher said, pausing and looking up from To Kill A Mocking Bird. I wonder how long it took him to perfect that stink eye he was giving me.
"Sorry," I mumbled, and looked down. I hate it when everyone is staring at me. It wasn't my fault my lower back was itching, so I had been kinda wiggling around in my seat. Now I sit back and try really hard to ignore the need to scratch. This was going to be a long day.
Finally, school ended and I took the bus home. I could barely control my self, I felt like someone put itching powder right around my tailbone. As soon as I got home, I started itching. Wait a minute! Something doesn't seem right....
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!"
Now, I would like you to know that I am not one of those girly girls who squeal over everything. But what would you do? Reaching down to your back and feeling something furry, long and definitely alive, is rather unpleasant. Especially, if after some investigating, you realize it's attached to you.
"What's wrong? Are you alright, Kat?" my dad says, frantically running up to me.
"Oh, I'm fine. Just some voice exercises, you know, keeping those vocal cords in check," I say, rolling my eyes despite the hysterical edge to my voice.
"Look," I turn around after receiving a confused look from my father. Sarcasm, my general defense mechanism, is lost on the guy.
He went still for a few moments, silence filling the hallway. I wave my hand in front of his face to break him out of his thoughts.
"I always knew this was a possibility. I just didn't want to believe it," he sighed. Say what now?? I'm thinking.
"Uh, dad, you're not making any sense," I say hesitantly, interrupting the stiffling quiet. Finally, I notice the itching has began to fade.
"Honey, let's sit down and have a talk," he says, walking downstairs to the living room. He sits on the couch and gestures for me to sit beside him.
"Are you sure I won't, like, you know, squish it?" I say uncertainly, gesturing at the tawny, furry rope sticking out of my jeans. It was about the same color as my hair. Wait a sec, it's moving! WTF??????
"It'll be fine, Kat," he says wearily. I sit down and stare at him.
"Now, let me explain..." he starts.
How on earth could you explain this?