witchy woman | george harrison

2. | How Strange

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October 2nd, 1961

The next morning, as she stepped through the school gates, Sloane felt sick to her stomach.

She cowered in the hallways, expecting a repeat of yesterday's antics. Only, nobody was looking at her today. Not the boys, not even the occasional girl that would smile and wave hello. She was more invisible than ever before.

She found it hard to believe that the same boys who were ogling her yesterday now walked coldly by as if nothing had happened. But so it was.

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Students got one hour for lunch at the arts college. Since moving to Liverpool, her routine consisted of walking the school grounds by herself—most everyone headed off campus to the nearest chippy or coffee shop.

Sloane had only started a few pages of Jane Austen's Mansfield Park before someone plopped down, onto her bench.

"Hi!" The girl said cheerily, her brown eyes smiling warmly. "I'm Mary," she reached to shake Sloane's hand.

"I'm-"

"I know, you're Sloane Lewis!" Mary smiled. She had a beautiful sing-song accent. "The American girl. You're in a few of my classes."

Sloane was suddenly pricked with a strange feeling. She had never seen this girl before; not once in the hallways, let alone in any of her classes.

"I've never seen you," Sloane replied carefully.

"Oh! It's probably 'cause I sit way in the back. I don't like being front row. Makes you look like a kiss-ass."

"Are you from Liverpool?" Sloane asked.

"No! Ireland. We moved here," she said.

"Same here," Sloane smiled.

"How's about you, Frankie?" Mary turned her head in another direction. Sloane was shocked to find that another girl had suddenly appeared out of nowhere.

Frankie, the blonde girl's pal, was adorable, her raven black hair set perfectly in curls.

"We have Figure Drawing together," Frankie smiled and offered Sloane a smoke. "Want one?"

"I've never tried," Sloane admitted.

Frankie squeezed herself onto the end of the bench, passing a cigarette to Mary. Mary pinched Sloane's lips together and set the cigarette in her mouth just so, lighting it with a match.

She took her first drag ever, drawing in too quickly. Coughing.

"You've got to do it more sexy! Breathe in slow, tilt your head back a little," Mary instructed.

And Sloane did, improving a little. "I can't believe I've never seen you before. Either of you," She said.

"That's alright. We're outcasts," Frankie confessed. "I feel invisible sometimes."

"What about Herbie Masters? Always calling you his 'chocolate goddess.' Such a creep," Mary teased her friend.

Frankie borrowed the cigarette from Sloane and took a long drag. "That white boy needs to leave me be."