Jump: A Beatles Fan-Fiction

Chapter 12: December 6th, 1963, 3:30PM || London, England

The band and I walked into a large white room, filled with lights. The photographer was an older man. He was dressed very sharply, and spoke in a monotone voice.

"Okay boys, now hold still," he droned as he snapped a picture.

"Boys, stop fidgeting," the photographer demanded. John frowned, but quickly put on a fake, tight lipped, smile.

I stood behind the scene, and snickered every time that the band groaned because they had to sit still.

After about forty five minutes of squirming and smiling, the photographer uttered the words that the band was dying to hear, "Alright boys, let's do a silly one," he sighed.

They all sprang up, and started making wild faces, the scene was hilarious.

"Alright, would we like to get the lady in for one of these shots?" the photographer asked.

"Oh, no--" I was cut off by Ringo grabbing me and yanking me into the shot.

"You know Eppy will kill us if he sees her in the photos, could you just use the polaroid camera instead?" Paul asked.

The photographer went over to his table of equipment and picked up a camera.

George stood on one side of me, holding my hand, while Paul stood on the other with his arm around my shoulder. Ringo stood next to Paul, and John stood next to George.

The photographer snapped the picture, and then he said, "Okay now a silly one,"

John jumped on top of George. Ringo tugged on Paul's tie, while Paul was holding up my hair with both of his hands.

The photographer took both of the photos, and handed them to Paul. They were so funny looking, I couldn't help but laugh when I saw them.

"Here, keep this," Paul handed me the serious photo, "You can show it to your friends, once you remember them, of course."

Even if I did have friends, I wouldn't be able to show them this, I thought. I tucked the paper into the side pocket of my bag.

"We'd better get going, we have to be at the concert hall for dress rehearsal," George stated.

The boys put all of their disguises back on, and we headed for the car, which was set to meet us back by the clothing store. George held out his arm, and I took it. He was warm like a heat lamp, compared to the icy air. I nestled closer to him as we walked down the street.

"AWWWWW," I heard from behind me.

"You two are just so cute!!" I turned around, and realized that Ringo was the one speaking.

"Yeah, when's the wedding?" John smirked.

"Oh, leave them be!" Paul smacked John's shoulder.

This caused John to play-smack Paul back. This led to the two engaging in a wrestling match.

"Would you two knock it off?" Ringo groaned. "You'd think they were the ones that were going to be married."

We finally reached the car. I sat between the door and George, holding his hand, while Paul sat across from me and explained what we were going to do.

"The band and I are going in through the front. Now, we aren't planning on being mobbed, but there is a good chance that may happen, so we're going to tell the driver to drop you around back. Just come into the auditorium, and you can watch us rehearse. When the rehearsal is over, you can find us, and we'll go from there," Paul planned.

"Sounds good to me," I said.

The car stopped, and the boys filed out. George gave me a kiss on the cheek just before he followed his friends. I sighed as the car started moving again. There really was nothing I could do. I would give it a week, maybe, and if I couldn't find the Jump Reader, I'd have to move on.

Even if I did find the Jump Reader in a few days, I didn't know if I could get back. The time would have run out by then, and I didn't know if I'd still be able to Jump.

There was no way that I could still hang around with The Beatles and not screw up history. I didn't know where I'd go, but I knew that I couldn't stay in London.

My deep thoughts were shaken by a bump of the car. I looked out the window, and realized that the concert hall was far behind us.

I tapped on the glass divider between the front and back seat of the car, "Uh, excuse me, sir, I was supposed to be dropped off back there, where The Beatles are having their concert."

There was no reply. I rapped on the glass again, this time a little harder.

"Hey, um, excuse me?" I raised my voice a little.

"Don't worry Penny, everything is going to be fine. I'm sure you must be scared," the driver said in a voice that was so calm, it was terrifying.

My mind was racing. How does he know my name? Oh no, I'm being kidnapped! What am I going to do? I can't be kidnapped in 1963, nobody will be looking for me!

The car slowed down and started to park on the side of the street, next to an apartment complex. I pounded fiercely on the glass, but to no avail. I slammed against the car doors, but they wouldn't budge. There was no way I was going to be kidnapped.

I couldn't be kidnapped. I had to get back to 1993. I had to get back home.

"Let me out of here you asshole!" I shouted. "What do you want? Please, I don't have anything! If it's The Beatles you're after, they don't care about me, I promise!"

"Penny, please," the man turned around.

I stopped yelling.

The man looked at me softly. His striking green eyes had a certain glimmer in them. Hope, maybe? His face seemed gaunt, but I was still able to recognize him, despite the ghostly appearance. He didn't look much older than the last time I saw him, twenty-five years in the future.

It was my father. Stanley Parks.