What If

Chapter 15

I felt good waking up the next morning, like a giant weight had been lifted off of my chest. I felt almost free in a way. I couldn't stop smiling to myself. What I had said to George really made me feel good. Maybe what I said will knock some sense into both of them. I got dressed and washed and packed all of my books together for school. My mother handed me my lunch and a muffin to eat on the way. I hated muffins, but I was seriously anal about wasting food, so I forced it down anyway.

As I got closer to school, my good feeling started to drip away like melting icicles on a rooftop. I started to get nervous that perhaps I made things awkward between me and the boys. More awkward than they should've been. I hoped my little speech to George the day before didn't make him feel uncomfortable around me. He was just caught in between Paul and I's crossfire. After all, he hadn't done anything wrong. Yet.

I silently went to the school and into my math class. Most of the students were there already, but George was not one of them.

Maybe he skipped school because he felt really awkward seeing me, I thought. He is really shy. I tapped on my desk anxiously for George to come in. The last thing I needed was even more awkwardness.

Finally, three minutes later, he walked in with his books in his hand and sat down at his desk. He smiled at me and said "Hey, Colleen."

"Hey, George," I said. I took the biggest sigh of relief because he seemed genuinely fine, not nervous or awkward at all. I started feeling good all over again.

Math class started right after that, remaining generally uninteresting. The next few classes were too.

I went outside for lunch again. It was another cloud cover day and looked as if it were about to rain, but unless it started, I really didn't care. Underneath my tree, I sat and ate my lunch, cursing my mother for not packing me more. She never gave me enough food for lunch time and I always ended up starving till dinner.

I can eat. For a 125-pound girl, I did not eat like one. I ate like I should be 170. I just had a high metabolism, I guess. My body did not like extra weight apparently.

A shadow of a person stood over me and said "Well, look what we have down here." I looked up and saw none other than John Lennon.

It made sense that he would be here. Often he would sneak out of his school to visit Paul and George and vice versa, so he being here didn't surprise me. But I wasn't supposed to know that. "What are you doing here?" I asked as if I didn't know.

"John sometimes sneaks out of his classes to come over here," Paul said. He and George were right behind John. "He's a sneaky bastard. Teacher doesn't even know he's gone."

I smiled and said "Impressive."

"And now I've got another reason to come down here." John smirked down at me and held out his hand. "Can I help you up, miss?" he asked, just wanting to touch me in some way.

Reluctantly, I took his hand and he hoisted me to my feet. It took him a little too long to let go though.

"So, Paul tells me you like to draw," he said.

Going through my memory bank quickly, I remember telling John nothing about my drawing, only Paul, which means they were doing more talking than I thought. I didn't think news would travel this quickly between them. If I said anything to one of them, it was going to spread like wildfire to the other two. If one knew, then all three knew. Duly noted for the future. What else have they said about me behind my back? I thought. "Yeah, occasionally," I confirmed.

"I do art too," he said, pointing to himself, like he's the proudest man alive for doing artwork. "Actually, that's what I go to school for. Anyway, we were gonna go to my auntie's house to practice some guitar and laugh at some of the stuff I've drawn. We would've gone now, but seeing as you actually give a shit about school, we can push it off till you're done."

That offer sounded both awesome and dreadful. John's Aunt Mimi is notorious for being a huge bitch. Probably where John got his awfulness from. Being a girl with John, probably going up to his room, is going to look horrible in her eyes. I bet her first thought was that we were going to have sex up there. But then again, Paul and George were going to be there, so that would eliminate that theory. But still, she's been known not to take to kindly to girls John brings home, sex toys or not. Seeing his house, though, where it all began, would be pretty cool. Freaking sweet, actually.

But I'm also not too big on art. I doodle every now and then when I'm bored, but nowhere a diehard art fanatic like John was. And I've seen his drawings; they look like a bunch of kindergarten scribbles to me, but maybe I could swipe some and sell them when they become famous. Nah, that'd be too mean. That's them. Not me. The guitar playing and the peeking in on those famous jam sessions of Paul McCartney and John Lennon were really what peaked my interest. Was the rest worth seeing it? Of course.

"That sounds like fun," I agreed. "I'll have Paul and George take me there after school."

I saw his eyes glare for a split second after I said that, but soon they went completely back to normal. "Gear," he said happily. "I'll expect you there once school lets out. Don't be late." He winked ever so seductively before the bell rang.