The Singer and the Bookworm | J.P.M

Chapter Two

Violet stuffed her books and pencil case back into her satchel bag and slung it over her shoulder, before standing up. The sunny yellow skirt she was wearing reached just above her knees and because she had been sitting, it had become creased at the hem. She agitatedly smoothed it down.

Patiently, she waited in the locker room for her best friend Irene who had just finished English. Her bag bumped softly against her leg as she leaned against the metal lockers, and after a while Irene came stumbling round the corner.

"Hey," she greeted with a grin. Her blonde hair was in a neat bun on top of her head and she was wearing jeans and a green turtleneck sweater. "How was Biology?"

"Bloody awful as always, with Mr Jameson," Violet sighed. "English?"

"It was alright," she admitted. "We started a new book and it's surprisingly okay."

"I'm so proud of you," Violet laughed. Irene was the kind of person who, opposite to Violet, hated reading — in fact, they were practically the opposite of each other, but somehow they got along extremely well and had been best friends since reception.

They decided to leave school to grab lunch, so they headed for the bakery on Penny Lane. Violet grabbed a pastry while Irene bought a sausage roll and a chocolate eclair. They took the paper bags presented to them out onto the street and took seats on a bench at the corner, beginning to eat. Lunch break ended at half past one so they made sure to keep checking their watches to ensure they weren't late back, chatting animatedly as they always did for the whole time.

It was a day like any other, routine and normal, and while Violet enjoyed and appreciated the environment she spent most of her time in, a restrained voice at the back of her mind was itching for something new to happen.

Since it was early winter, the air was fairly sharp and the girls made sure to wrap themselves in beige duffle coats before leaving. The dusty clouds above them suggested that a snowstorm was to come and by the time they deposited their wrappers in the dustbin outside the bakery and began to head back to school, gentle flakes of snow had begun to flutter down from the sky and land upon the pavement.

They got back to school shortly and switched over some books at their lockers before heading to Art, which they had together. Standing outside the classroom was Richard Starkey, one of Violet's (only) other friends, and upon seeing him, Violet smiled.

"Hey Richie," she greeted. He grinned at her, his large eyes closing slightly, with a cheery "hey, Vi." It was a miracle he was in school; he was often unwell and had missed a lot of his education due to it. Violet didn't have many friends at school and she suspected it was because her nerdy habits attracted all the wrong attention, but Irene and Ringo had always been there for her, for which she was truly grateful.

In Art class they did observational sketches of the students sitting beside them, and Violet ended up with a surprisingly realistic drawing of Irene, which both the latter and herself were impressed with. Violet had always considered herself an artist since it was something she regularly practiced, however she rarely created anything she was happy with.

****

At half past three the school bell rang and flocks of students began spilling out of the building down the drive. Just as Violet was heading down the driveway among the crowd after departing with Irene, she felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned around to see Richard standing behind her.

"Hi, Violet," he said, tugging her aside. "This really good band called The Quarrymen are playing at the Cavern Club tonight, do you wanna come along? I thought it might be your kind of thing."

"Uh, sure," Violet replied, trying her best to sound enthusiastic. "It was fun last time. Okay, I'll see you there."

"It starts at eight, don't be late," Ringo explained. Then he stopped and smiled. "Aye, I'm a poet and I didn't know it. Catch you later, Vi!" He raced off towards the separate exit from the school, probably heading for his bus stop back home. Violet sighed and giggled at his immaturity, then continued to walk.

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