A day off (Beatle fan fiction)

Chapter 3

~•Chapter 3•~

Oh my God! I can't believe it! I take a deep breath, in order to calm down. I turn my back to him, to keep my cool. The ugly yellow school bus pulls up. I sit towards the front, knowing from experience that the back equals trouble. I think I'll probably be liked here. I've never been the most popular, but never disliked. Then someone sits next to me.

"Mind if I sit here?"

I turn to see the owner of the voice.

"No! No, I don't mind," I stuttered out.

Calm yourself, Jaz. Yes, you're sitting next to Paul McCartney. Calm.

"Are you new to Liverpool, love? I couldn't have missed you," Paul said.

I blush."Yes, I'm new. I just moved here from the... States. My mom and dad died, along with my sibling."

Paul looked at me sympathetically."Sorry, love. Me mum died, too. What's her name?"

"Jaz," I say shyly.

"I'm Paul."

"I know."

Paul looks at me strangely. Smooth move. He doesn't know I'm futuristic.

"Er, did you just say 'I know'?" Paul asked.

"Oh, did I say that? Ha! How silly of me! I couldn't possibly know," I say, nervously, probably turning red.

"That's alright, love. We all make mistakes. If ye don't mind me asking, how old are you? I'm 15."

"Really? Me too!"

Paul chuckles. "Would you like to sit with me at lunch, love?"

"I'd love that, Paul!"

Then we sit in silence. I peek at him through my golden brown hair. He's got lovely eyes. His hair, though... Its kind of put forward and the rest greased back, like a teddy boy hair cut. That'd change, if it were up to me.

"Do you always grease your hair?" I ask him.

"Hm? Oh, yes, most of the time. Why?"

"I think you'd look nice if you left your hair, I dunno, natural."

"Oh."

"Boys don't leave their hair natural, do they."

"Not really."

"Sorry. I didn't mean to be rude."

Paul turns and looks at me seriously. "Y'know, I think I will leave my hair natural tomorrow!"

The bus stops in front of a big school. Everyone starts to load off.

"Bye, Jaz. See you at lunch."

"Bye, Paul!"

I sigh, peacefully. I walk into the office to get a schedule and a locker. My locker is #102. I try to get the lock off, but its no use. I'm ready to give up, when someone comes up, twirls the dial, and kicks it sharply. It pops open. I look at the person who did it. It was a too familiar boy...

"Thank you. How did you know how to open it?" I ask.

"I had this locker before. John," he said, extending his hand.

"Jaz," I say, taking his hand and shaking it.

"So, Jaz, are you new here?"

"Well, obviously. Regulars don't show up in the middle of the year," I say.