What if?

Chapter One

Chapter One (Chloe's POV) beginning

Like I said, it started on that hot day when George was bringing Rebbecca her drink. With a little bit of effort she managed to peek over the huge pair of sunglasses that was positioned on the bridge of her nose, to be able to look inside George's eyes without moving.

"Thank you George, that's wonderful," she says while excepting the ice cold drink in front of her.

"Enjoy, Madame Rebbecca," he replies with a slight bow of the head. Now he's walking in my direction.

"Would you like something to drink as well, Madame Chloe?" He smiles at me kindly.

"No thank you, George. I still have water." I wave my bottle of water in front of his face, so he is able to see it.

"Just twix me if you want something, Madame Chloe," he says before walking away. The word twix earns us an ugly glare from Rebbecca.

Our dad is rich, not just nice car and suit rich, but a owning the world kind of rich. We can have everything we want, and more. When Rebbecca was eight years old she loved eating twix, so our dad bought the company for her. She got an unlimited amount of twix. Our dad also owns a mobile software company. He made his employees create an app with which we can order a drinks and snacks from our phones. The interaction was called twix, because Rebbecca started refusing to eat twix when she was my age, fourteen. She didn't want to become fat. So to tease her a little we made everything she'd order a twix. She doesn't like being teased, though, usually she's the one who's teasing.

At school everyone does what she wants, no matter how weird her requests are. And she definitely teases people about the weird things she makes them do. We are so rich people would do anything to become her friend. She loves it when people are sucking up to her. I don't. While she is out shopping or baking cupcakes, which are fashionable as well, according to Rebbecca, I'm out playing soccer or going for a swim with my friends. I have real friends. I wouldn't want it any other way. I'd like to be able to trust my friends, which you can only do if they are real. I love Rebbecca and would do anything for her, but she is such a snob most of the time.

That is how my life has always been. Rebbecca was born in the back of an old car, though. I've heard the story many times. My mom and dad were both poor, back then. They loved each other very much, though. My mom got pregnant with Rebbecca when she was only nineteen years old and my dad was working at McDonald's at the time. In his spare time he would try to invent things in the garage of his parents' house. Rebbecca was born in the back of his old stinking car while they were stuck in traffic. They were trying to get to a hospital were they deliver babies for little money, if you're not able to pay a normal hospital, but they were to late. About a year later my dad accidentally invented a time machine. he still doesn't know himself, how we did it the first time he made one. He built a company around his extraordinary invention and became filthy rich in no time. The first company he bought was McDonald's.

I was born in a hospital, in a special room for VIP's. Most people don't even know hospitals have such rooms. Well, they have, but ordinary people aren't supposed to know about them. It would make them feel discriminated. My mom was eating caviar when she was having me, so I've been told.

Rebbecca stands up and walks in my direction. "Do you know what I would like?" It sounds like Rebbecca has come up with one of her crazy plans again. "I want to go to a Beatles concert."

I roll my eyes at her. "You don't even like the Beatles."

"No, but Olivia does." Of course, I should have known. One of Rebbecca's favourite passing times is annoying her enemy Olivia. Olivia is the only person at school who is able to resist the power that comes with money, and Rebbecca hates her because of it. She would do anything to irritate her.

"You know we're not allowed to use the time machine," I sigh a little bit frustrated.

"So?" Rebbecca answers, not caring for the rules.

"So, we don't," I say, "if we do, we might change things that we don't want to change."

"Nothing will change if I stand in the middle of a huge crowd and just cheer along." She says it like I'm stupid for not getting this. "Well"?"

"What?" I have no idea what she could mean.

"Are you coming with me or not?" She keeps acting like I'm an imbecile. I'd rather stay here at the side of the swimming pool in the hot sun, but I can't let my irresponsible sister go back in time all by herself. My dad won't be here until late, so he can't stop her. The staff won't, because Rebbecca will get them fired. And apparently, I'm not capable of stopping her either.

"Sure," I sigh again deeply. What have I gotten myself into. I don't like the Beatles either. I'm more of a European techno music kind of girl. You can dance to it, run to it, or do other active things, which I love. Rebbecca usually only listens to artists with a pretty face and a guitar. I don't think she is going to approve of the haircuts those Beatles have, which in her opinion makes the music bad. I can almost hear her complain about it.

I get up from my comfortable chair and sigh deeply,

"We should at least wear appropriate clothing. We shouldn't stand out from the crowd to much." Rebbecca makes impatient hand motions at me, and frowns deeply.

"Be careful, you'll get wrinkles," I say mockingly. Rebbecca launches her flip-flop at me, but misses because of my fast reflexes.

We both walk to our own room to get changed. I stand before the big closet doors and look at the little machine in front of me which will help me to get the clothes I need. First I choose the option thematic clothing, then I go with sixties themed clothing and wait for the closet to open in the right section. This automatic closet is also one of my dad's inventions.

When the doors open and I walk in to see what is best to wear, I realise that I've never been inside this section of my closet before. I don't recognise a single item. I try on a few outfits, before settling for a shirtwaist dress that is typically sixties in my opinion. It has stripes in different tones of green on it, to match the colour of my eyes and make my jet black hair stand out a little. Then I pick out white leather shoes with square toes and chunky high heels. My hair goes up high, with a lot of hairspray in it, and a little glittering bow to finish it off. When I look into the mirror to admire my new look, I almost don't recognize myself anymore.

Humming a song from the movie Hairspray I dance my way to Rebecca's room. She is in front of her mirror applying some mascara onto her lashes. She is wearing a similar dress to mine, but it's blue without a pattern to match her dark red wavy hair and same green eyes.

"Ready to go, sis?" I ask in a good mood. I'm looking more and more forward to this concert with each passing minute. Still not because of the music, but definitely because of the outfits. What girl doesn't like to play dress up every once in a while? She nods and looks at my choice of clothing approvingly. Rebbecca thinks looks are very important. We leave all our modern stuff, like cell phones behind and are ready to go.

We take the elevator down to the basement, where the time machine is at. The machine looks like a large silver cube. It's big enough for at least five people to stand in it at the same time. We open the large door and walk inside. I push the right buttons after listening to Rebbecca, who is telling me the right date and place. She got it from an old ticket that was in my mom's possession. She went to the concert as well, when she was young. I hope we find her in the crowd, because it would be fun to see her young and free.

The 23th of August 1964, Hollywood Bowl, Los Angeles.