She's a Woman

Chapter Seven - Let Me Be Your Teddy Bear

Everyone in our small band of six was experiencing excitement beyond belief. It was so overwhelming and strange to think about it. We were just a gang of scruffy English teenagers in beat-up leather jackets, yet we were going on tour in a completely foreign country!

Convincing our parents (or, in my case, parental substitute) to let us go was easy enough, but George's mother secretly begged me to look after her son.

"He's still only a baby," she said, practically in tears. "I don't want him to get hurt."

"He'll be perfectly fine," I said reassuringly. "I'll look after him."

"Thank you, Michael. I trust you'll look after him."

I smiled at Mrs Harrison before adding, "I'll keep him out of trouble and make sure he goes to bed on time. Can't have him overtired, now, can we?"

Mrs Harrison laughed and called me a cheeky sauce box, then she scurried away to see about packing bags. I ambled into mine and George's shared bedroom. It looked like a small explosion had taken place; clothes, socks and towels were scattered everywhere, even draped on the little desk lamp in the corner. George was dashing around as if he'd put into fast forward.

"Are you all right, Geo?" I asked, leaning against the door frame.

George glanced up and nodded, then he went back to stuffing shirts and trousers into a duffel bag. I chuckled and sauntered over to him. I took a seat on the edge of his bed and watched him with mild amusement. I'd never seen George in such a frenzy before. It was bizarre to watch a normally mild-mannered teenage boy turn into the Flash.

"You seem a bit het up," I remarked.

"Not het up, Mike," George said, barely looking up. "I'm excited."

"I see," I said. I leaned over and took a quick peek at what he'd packed into his already crammed-full duffel bag. George had packed all of the normal boring stuff - shirts, socks, trousers, several pairs of underpants - and some washing things. Then I noticed something small and fluffy sticking out from a corner in his bag, buried underneath a stack of crumpled shirts. I reached in and pulled at it, but it was wedged in tightly.

"What are you doing in my bag?" George cried, rushing over.

"This thing is crammed right into the corner of your bag," I said, tugging hard. "It'll get all crushed and look like rubbish when you put it on!"

George tried to stop me from pulling the fluffy thing out of his bag, taking hold of my hands and prising them away, but he wasn't quick enough. I snatched up the fluffy thing and held it high above my head, out of his reach.

"Don't! Don't! Don't!" George screamed, trying to hit me.

"What is it, George? Is it a hankie?" I asked, taking a look at the floppy thing I'd grabbed.

It wasn't a hankie. It was a little fluffy toy.

"That's mine! Give him back!" George shouted. He darted forward and seized the toy.

"Hey, no need to snatch! Don't get in such a flap. What is it?" I said, peering.

George held it tight against his chest, stroking it protectively as if he was comforting it.

"Is he shy, your little animal?" I said jokingly. "I didn't mean to frighten him. He's looking at me with one big beady eye. I think he really wants to make friends. Are you going to get him to say hello to me, Georgie?"

"Shut up, you dick," George snapped. He sounded furious and a little embarrassed. I decided I wasn't going to give up until he told me what the big fuss was about.