What If

Chapter 3

Finding my way to the school was the easy part. The inside was like a maze and with all of the students shuffling around everywhere made it nearly impossible to find where I was supposed to go. I got pushed and shoved and I think at one point I was almost killed. I eventually found my locker and shoved most of my books inside of it. Looking at my schedule, it showed that I had math first.

Then the bell rang and halls became extremely empty, the students piling into their classrooms, except for me who had no idea where to go. Oh great, I thought. This is going to be awkward. After a full three minutes of searching, which is a lot longer than it sounds, I finally found the classroom I was supposed to go to, only to find that it had been the one nearest to my locker the entire time. Joy.

Seething with frustration, I took a deep breath and opened the door. The entire class's eyes were on me. I was blushing so hard. I hated being the center of attention like that. I looked back at them and stared at them strangely. Their hair was all funky and they reeked of perfume and cologne. Okay, I thought. This is definitely not the present. This is either the 50's or 60's.

Then the teacher noticed me. "Oh, you must be Colleen," she said politely. I nodded nervously, still not used to what was going on. "Class, this is our new student, Colleen Ferry, from America." There were whispers going back and forth between students after that. I totally forgot that back then, if you were from America in a foreign country, then your popularity and cool-factor shot up through the roof, so at least I had that going for me. "Colleen, why don't you take that empty seat in the back?"

Slowly, walking back to the seat in question, I felt everyone's eyes on me, including the boy who would be sitting to my left whose face I knew too well. Holy shit! I spoke internally. That's George Harrison! He was looking back and forth between me and his desk, being very obviously shy.

Pretending I didn't know who the hell he was, I calmly sat down in the desk next to his and placed my books on my desk and went back to what the teacher was saying. I know I said that I loathed George Harrison, and that was still true, but I'm not gonna lie. Sitting next to him was pretty cool. Not many people can say that they've been this close to a Beatle, even if nobody knew what I was talking about at this particular point in time.

I smiled to myself because I got to experience something that nearly everyone else couldn't.

The teacher started to talk back to what she had been talking about before. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see George sneak a peek at me every now and again. To be honest, my heart started racing. The more I thought about my situation, the more excited I grew. Wow, I thought. I'm going to school with The Beatles! Well, two of them anyway. I remembered that Paul and George went to the same school, so Paul must've been around here somewhere as well.

Soon the lunch break finally arrived in the middle of the day. The sun had come out and warmed up the air, so it was actually sort of pleasant out. That's why I decided to go outside and eat my lunch under a tree. Most of the students were out there too, all talking to each other, friends, lovers, and loners. After I ate, I opened my some of my books and began doing the homework I was already assigned.

Every once in a while I would look up from my work to see if either Paul or George had come out. I wanted to be nonchalant about my actions because I had too much pride to be raving over two huge jerks.

Soon I heard someone's voice that I recognized for a brief moment. I looked up and standing about ten feet away was George talking to someone I immediately knew – Paul McCartney. My breath caught up in my throat for a moment. Holy shit, I thought. They were talking and I noticed that they were looking at me every few seconds as they did. I looked away quickly and went back to my homework. I felt awkward because I could feel them staring and, like I said, attention like that made me uncomfortable.

"Excuse me." I look up and there was Paul McCartney staring back down at me. I think I nearly died. "Can I sit here?"

I couldn't fucking believe it. Paul McCartney was talking to me! Too bad I was someone who wasn't very fond of him. "Yeah, sure," I answered as normally as I could, moving my bag out of the way so he could sit.

He sat less than two inches from me, glancing over at what I was doing. I blushed. I knew I was going to be painfully awkward. I always was in these types of situations. He stuck out his hand for me to shake. "I'm Paul."

I smiled politely and shook his hand. "Colleen."

"Colleen? That's a pretty name." I blushed even harder now. I must've looked like a tomato. "I haven't seen you around here before. Are you new?"

Oh shit, I thought. Now I have to talk. "Um, yeah," I said. "I just moved here earlier today." Technically, I wasn't lying.

Listening to my voice, he said "Ah, an American." I smiled shyly in confirmation. "What part are you from?"

"New York."

"New York?" He eyes got wide and he became very excited. "Very nice! You know the Ed Sullivan show is filmed down there!"

I laughed inside my brain. That show was so old to me, but so cool and new and exciting to him. "Yes, I'm very aware," I stated.

"Oh, what am I talking about? Of course you know that! You're from New York!" I couldn't hold it in anymore and I just had to laugh. I loved how just that fact alone made me a lot cooler to him. "Anyway, what are you doing here? Why are you in Liverpool?"

For a moment, I forgot what my 'mother' had said. "Uh . . . my dad got transferred here for his job."

Paul grinned at me. I wouldn't exactly call it a friendly grin. It was like a half-friendly half-seductive grin. "Well, welcome to England, love. We're happy to have you." He gently grasped my hand and planted a kiss on the back.

This time, I wasn't overtaken with fangirl-itis when he kissed my skin. I went back to why I disliked him. I could see why he was a Class 1 charmer and seducer. This is how it started and I wasn't going to let myself fall into his trap.

I took my hand back and said, very nicely might I add, "Well, thank you, Paul. It's good to be here."

Things were quiet for a split second before Paul said "Hey, listen. I'm in this band called the Quarrymen. We're having practice after school. I would really like it if you came along to see us play."

I was in total shock to be asked that question. Did I think Paul McCartney was a scumbag? Yes. Does that mean I'm going to turn down an opportunity to go see the beginnings of The Beatles before they hit it big? Hell no. "Yeah, sure," I responded happily. "That sounds great."

Paul, this time, grinned a genuinely happy grin. "Gear," he said, using his British lingo. "I'll see you then after school."

Just then the bell rang and everyone, including Paul, got up to go to class, but he kept my gaze for the last few moments.