The Story of Alyssa and George / g.h

I

Alyssa's Journal.
July 3, 1958.

Today's the day, I'm about to fly above the clouds, into a new land of culture. I'm going to board this plane, sit and sleep for a long time. Eat some peanuts, - and then land of course. Once I land and leave the airport my papa is going to pick us up in his 1955 Chevrolet Bel Air. I bet the girls at home would be jealous of how cool papas car is! Mother never told me why we traveled into a new country for the summer. She just told me to pack a lot! Of bags. It's gonna be fun, fun, fun! Anyways diary, I'm going to rest for a while. See you soon!
-Alyssa.
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The plane landed and Mother, Father, and I found our luggage and made our way out of the stuffy airport- that smelt as cleaning supplies and a certain smell I couldn't identify. It seemed as if we waited forever, I started to get impatient. Moaning and groaning, "Mom, when is papa going to be here, he's taking-" I got interrupted by a big car horn and my grandpa coming out the car. A smile on his face, as he waved his cap around. "I'm here, come hop in! I'll get your bags." He said as he motioned us to take a seat in the big boat like car. My mother pushed me into the car as my father looked at his watch. - my grandpa was an hour late. Mom and dad looked at each other and smiled. Grandpa put the bags in the trunk and got in the car. "Ready folks?" He asked as he turned. The three of us nodded, a shy bunch we were. It's getting late, I can hear the crickets chirping and see street lights flickering. Grandpa and my parents were downstairs in the living room, I don't know what they were chatting about though. I turned off the lamp by the bedside table, my cold feet hitting the floor, I got into the extra bed. It smelt like wool and cough drops. My eyes started to lightly close and before I knew it, I was asleep.

My mother was always cleaning their house, cooking meals, laundry, and comforting my grandmother. Their house was boring and smelt like dust and old books. It wasn't fit for a old couple in love.
I sat on their couch, listening to my grandmothers records , I was wearing a beautiful dress with bows in my hair, I had Buddy Holly glasses, and dancing like I was mad. The music was loud, I guess a little to unfit for my fathers liking. He came into the living room, and turned down the record player. I quickly spun around "Hey! What was that for?" I asked with my arms crossed.

"Here's some money, go and look around. We don't need a distraction right now." My father said in annoyance as he handing me a couple of pounds. I nodded and shuffled out of the house, slamming the door behind me, throwing rocks while whistling, I thought to myself 'wow this place sure is always dreary.' A drag it was, I was now by the shops, clutching my coin purse I headed into an ice cream shop, smiling brightly I made my way in.

"One scoop of strawberry please, mister" the man nodded and handed me my cone, I handed him 50 cents and sat down on a stool. Licking my cone as music played for the jukebox. I Looked out the window that had a beautiful view of shops. I see five boys carrying guitars and band equipment, me being curious I hopped off the stool and finished my cone, I walked out of the ice cream parlor, hearing the little bell ring from the door . I skipped my way over to the boys. "Are you guys in a band?" I asked with concern and joy. The boys looked at each other and back at me.

"You're American?" One of the boys asked, he had very chubby cheeks and greenish - brown eyes. He had a bass. I nodded and smiled. "What's an American  doing over here? Got sick of people throwing money all around eh?" I scuffed and rolled my eyes.
" no actually, I'm visiting my grandparents." I smiled weakly" - "do you guys play?" I pointed to their guitars, another boy nodded, he had his hair whiffed back like Elvis, it seemed like he was inspired by him and Buddy. "Yeah we are, - called The Quarrymen." He said as he put his guitar down.

"The names John." He said as he shaked my hand, "Alyssa, pleasures mine." I chuckled. John looked over at his buds.

"This is Paul, he plays bass. This is Stu, he also plays bass. Pete plays drums, I play rhythm guitar, and this is George, he's lead."