Seventh 2 Survive (WAYHAUGHT)

18-61

Once the band finished performing the crowd began thinning out. Soon there were only a handful left in the audience, Paul coming over to Nicole and Waverly telling them they were going to get something to eat in a café, inviting the girls to join them. "We'd love to," Waverly said. "But, we don't have any money."

"Our treat," Paul replied. "What did you think of our music?"

"It's amazing. Beyond amazing, the best I've heard."

"Thanks. Still needs a lot of work. Got some ideas for songs, but they might not fit. There's something missing, just don't know what."

The pair followed the gang to a small café a short distance from Mathew Street, Nicole declining to eat anything, Waverly ordering two slices of toast, no butter and a black coffee. George appeared interested her choices, asking why she didn't have a bacon sandwich like them. "I'm vegan," she replied, assuming everyone knew the term.

"Is that a religion?" George asked. "Where they don't eat certain foods."

"Not a religion," Waverly replied, glancing over at Haught. "I don't eat anything that comes from an animal."

"Chips," John offered. "You can eat chips? They're not from an animal."

"I can eat chips. Or, fries as I would call them back home."

John gave her another quizzical look. "They're chips here. No one calls them fries in Liverpool."

"Right, no. My mistake. Chips. I can eat chips."

"What did you think of our last song?" Paul asked. "How did it sound?"

"It's definitely your style," Waverly replied. "You just need to go for mass audience. You know, the slushy songs."

"Slushy," John said. "Man, I don't know where you get your words from, but it's dead cool. What's a slushy song?"

"Err...love songs. Can't buy me love, that kind of song."

Paul stared at her. "That's really creepy. I'm working on a song right now. Can't buy me gloves. But, you're right." Paul began to strum the chords to the song he was in the middle of creating. "I don't care too much for money, money only buys me gloves."

Waverly fixed on Paul. "No, that's not how it sounds." She hummed the tune she knew by heart, singing the words she knew went with them. "I don't care too much for money, for money can't buy me love."

Paul nodded. "I like it," repeating the tune on his guitar, singing Waverly's words. "That works. Do you play? You're really good."

"No...I. Can you excuse me for a moment?" Waverly said, grabbing Haught's hand, dragging her outside, hyperventilating in the cool air. "Oh, oh, this can't be happening. This can't be happening."

"What? Waverly, what's wrong? You look really pale. Is it the jump still?"

"The Beatles. Paul. My words. How?"

"What? I don't understand."

"Paul hears my version of his song. But, it's his song. At least, it will be his song. And, I gave it to him. I gave him his song. Here. Now. Haught, I gave The Beatles one of their songs. I couldn't have. I think I'm going to pass out."

"Waverly breathe. I have no idea what you're talking about."

"I think I might have altered history. Oh. My. God. Oh my God. Oh my God, I've changed history."

"How. Waverly, you're looking really pale. Waverly. Waverly."

Waverly slumped in Haught's arms, the enormity of her brief encounter with The Beatles too much for her. Holding Waverly in her arms, she was still trying to revive her when George appeared concerned by their disappearance. Seeing Waverly out cold he rushed inside the café, the other members of the band coming to assist. "It's fine," Haught said, worried they were creating too much of a scene. "She's just tired."