The Little Twister Girl (A Beatles Fanfiction)

It's a cold December morning, and I shiver as the cold winter airs of Liverpool hit my ears. I pull down my winter hat, rubbing my hands together and licking my lips. I fix my bookbag on my shoulder and breathe steadier. The cold air always brings a refreshness to my lungs whenever I breathe. The only thing that makes me particularly upset is that I'm on my way to work. Not that I mind it too much. I just wish I was doing something more exciting with my boring life.

I turn the corner to the bookstore, where I lay down my bookbag and enter inside.

"Good morning, Mr. Wilson." I say, as I put my bookbag next to his desk. His weary eyes smile at me, and his mouth simply parts in response.

I make my way to the shelves, making sure that all the books are in order for paying customers. The radio is on, but has a bit of a lost signal. I faintly hear the Beatles new song, "Baby's In Black" play from their album released just a few days ago. I hum to the rhythm and tap my beat. I think they're fine, and I enjoy their music quite a lot. My friends don't believe me when I say I once knew Paul McCartney, but I'm no liar. It seems like so long ago since I last saw him.

The door opens, and I look to see a younger lady with gorgeous blond hair walk inside. She looks around, and spots me, making her way up to me. I pat down my skirt in order to look presentable and smile.

"Hello, how may I-"

"You're Carol, right?" She says, interrupting me and holding onto my hand. I question her familiarity but set it aside quickly.

"Yes, that is my name. Carol Simons." I say, a bit surprised that this beautiful women knows my name.

"Perfect! Paul's been wanting you."

Paul? I look over to the door, but noone seems to be there.

"Paul? I don't know a Paul I'm afraid. Must have the wrong Carol." I say, a bit, to my surprise, upset that she has gotten the wrong person.

"No, it's definitely you. You must know who Paul McCartney is."

James Paul McCartney? It's been so long since I've last seen him, and I look away from her slowly. I don't know if he wants me. He might be teasing me once again.

"Why does he want me?" I ask, as my mind is racing with reasons why a Beatle would want anything to do with the likes of me.

"You have to come with me, dear." The women says, and I now recongnize her. She's Cynthia Powell, John Lennon's wife. She's all over the papers.

"I can't just leave my job, my home and my friends for this." I say, thinking about Mr.Wilson and my sick mother who's laying in bed at home.

"Trust me. He just wants to see you. You must remember him from grade school." Cynthia says.

I faintly remember Paul, since he grew up here and all. He was a senior of about 3 years, and we hardly ever talked inside of school. Outside of school however, we would play ball with some other kids and hang out by the pond. I haven't had contact with him since 6th grade. I'm finished high school now.

Cynthia takes my hand and leads me to Mr. Wilson.

"I'll be taking this young girl, Carol Simons with me. Please inform her mother and father." Cynthia says, giving Mr.Wilson a smile. She fixes her hair as she waits for a response.

"I suppose I shouldn't stop you, although you'll have to work overtime next week. I'll get Judy to cover your shift."  Mr. Wilson says good bye as I stand still.

This can't be happening to me. This has to be a mistake. As Cynthia leads me outside, I have a quick glance at the car, which is beuatifully tainted black, as the driver opens the door. I hesitate to walk inside, but I do so anyways. Cynthia sits next to me.

"It's finally good to have another girl here, you know. I can't handle all these Beatles." She laughs as she takes off her gloves and fixes her hat. I stare at her, and notice her little imperfections. She's pretty, but the papers always make someone look better than they really do.

"I hope I'm not staying for too long. I have a mother to take care of and a job." I say, as Cynthia looks at me.

"Oh, well, I'm not sure what Paul wants from you, but he's a reasonable guy. He'll listen to you." Cynthia says, smiling at me. I smile back. She's shown me so much kindness in such a confusing time.

"How are you and John?" I decide to ask, just to change the subject for a bit. I don't particularly like talking about me.

"We're great and all. Julian's been a bit cranky lately since Daddy's been busy, but other than that, we're grand." She smiles, but her smile doesn't look so great. It looks almost fake, as if she's hiding something but I decide against it. Rockstars lives are always perfect. At least that's what the papers say.

"That's great to hear."

We sit in silence for a bit, but it's not awkward at all. It's a silence that's reassuring in it's prescence, and that's what I think I need right now. Reassurance.

The car stops and Cynthia and I step out. I thank the driver, and look around. We're not too far from home, but just enough to notice the difference.

"The boys are just inside. They've taken a vacation back home for the holidays and we thought it'd be great if it was kept quiet and all." Cynthia's cheeks turn pink in the cold and I laugh.

"Well, I won't tell anyone. It'll be a secret."

I anxiously and timidly approach the door to the house just by the corner. It's tainted with moss, and looks to be about 50 years old by this time. Cynthia knocks on the hollow, wooden door and it opens a bit. We walk inside and I'm filled with the smell of Christmas tree pine.

"Cynthia, baby." I look over to the person who opened the door as he kisses Cynthia hello. He's no other than John Lennon, the witty one, the one that all the girls crave for back on my street. I pat my skirt down, which mother says is a forceful habit of mine, and smile at him.

He parts from Cynthia's lips and looks at me.

"You must be Carol, huh? Pretty bird Paulie's picked up, eh?" He winks at me as another man topples over to us.

"Johnny," the man hiccups, as I soon recognize him to be George, "Paulie said the cow is roosting." He laughs at himself and John pats his back.

"Go sit down you twit." He pushes George to a chair and John picks up his son, Julian and gives him a big kiss.

"Hello, I'm Ringo Starr. You must the Carol Paul's wanted to see, right?" Ringo extends his hand to me as he emerges from the kitchen. I shake his hand.

"I'm Carol Simons, though I'm not entirely sure why I'm here for you boys today."

Ringo laughs. "Don't worry about it, Paul's got a special job for you." Ringo smiles and takes my coat off, as Cynthia lays on the couch with Julian and John. I look around nervously inside the small house and get a sense of Liverpudlian familiarity I have missed. Ringo leads me to the kitchen as I see George at the corner of my eye sleeping.

"Carol!" Paul almost tackles me to the ground, as he pulls me into a tight hug. His hazel eyes sure haven't changed colour since I last saw him in 6th grade.

"Paul?" I say, grinning at him. "How are you? Perhaps more imporantly, why am I-"

"Don't worry about that, come eat dinner with us." Paul says, a bit nervously and quickly.

"Paul, I'd like to know." I say, letting go of our hug and looking at him. He's very handsome, perhaps even more handsome in person. They all are actually. He's aged extremely well, although I've always followed his life in the papers. It's always interesting to know someone who has become famous recently and to such a high degree. I wonder if he remembers me fondly.

Paul sighs and smiles, taking my hand and chuckling awkwardly. I shiver slightly from his touch and close demeanor. I look down nervously as Paul whispers into my ear.

"We're going to get married."