Lonely People

Mackenzie

Paul and I had to walk to school. We were a few miles away, but the school bus was under repair. For the first week of school, we walked. As much as I enjoyed walking outside, it wasn't fun when the sun was rising and the traffic was heavy. Cars honked, giving me a headache that wouldn't go away, even when we made it to school. 

School started up early that September. It had gotten cooler, which made both of us eternally grateful. Walking in the heat with our school uniforms wasn't fun, especially when both of us had to wear thick suit coats. 

The Liverpool Institute was a 'prestigious' school that only accepted the finest students dressed in the finest clothes. It was filled with people as stiff as their collars. Everyday, I wished we could have gone to the Quarrybank High school like John did, but then we wouldn't have met George. 

"At least you get to wear a skirt," Paul commented, "It gets hot in those classrooms."

As usual, he was complaining about the stiff suit pants he had to wear. We both had matching outfits, navy blue jackets with white shirts and red ties. He had pants to match the jacket while I had a pleated skirt that fell to my knees. As if that wasn't bad enough, I had to wear itchy stockings inside of the most uncomfortable shoes on the planet.

"I would like to see you say that after you wore a skirt for eight hours," I scoffed.

"It looks comfortable."

"It's horrid!" I exclaimed, "My legs chaff, there's a draft, and I always have to worry that the back is caught in my underwear."

Paul cringed, "Alright, maybe not."

"Exactly."

Thunder shook the world. Clouds as dark as night coated the once-blue sky. It would rain any second, luckily, Paul came prepared. He opened his umbrella just as it began to pour. Rain beat against the umbrella in a tune only nature could produce.

"I can't wait until I graduate," Paul muttered.

I nodded, "Then we can finally get out of here."

"We could tour the world," Paul waved his hand out in front of him, "We could see more beyond these streets."

He kicked a puddle, causing water to splash up on his. My socks became wet as I sighed.

"It'll be a while. We're just kids," I muttered.

Paul smiled, "But, we're kids in a band. Who else can say that?"

"John can," I replied, "Stuart can. Ken can."

"Besides them."

I didn't reply. The Quarrymen were the only band I knew. There were a few others in Liverpool, but I didn't know any of them. I had heard of a group on the other side of the city, something about a man named Storm and his hurricanes. Sounded more like a botched weather report than a group to me, but, then again, I was in a group named after a school I didn't go to. 

"Exactly," Paul muttered.

As we rounded a corner, a car came speeding by. Paul managed to block most of the water it splashed in with his umbrella. Even so, our shoes and the bottom of our pants got soaked.

"I hate Liverpool," I groaned.

Paul shrugged, "It's boring, but it's home."

"Boring being the key word," I replied, "It's boring, wet, and nothing ever happens!"

"Well-"

"Besides us joining a band."

Paul frowned, he couldn't come up with a good answer. We rounded another corner and the school came into view. Many students were already filling in. Some held their backpacks over their heads, others used newspaper or umbrellas. All tried to rush in before the rain got much harder.