She was pure like snowflakes
No one could ever stain
The memory of my angel
Could never cause me pain
"Oi, John, wrong chord!" Paul McCartney shouted out to John Lennon. Now, most people would have gotten a slap across the face, or at least a string of curse words shouted out at them. But this was John's best mate, and John was too focused on the music to notice anyway, so all he did was nod his head, hum, and correct himself.
"I 'eard that you're goin' after Joleen." If it weren't for hearing Joleen's name, George would have never even paid Paul any mind, nor would he have looked over and noticed that Paul was talking to him. When he did look away from his guitar to look at Paul, all of the boys were looking at George questioningly.
"What of it?" George muttered, looking back at his guitar as he fiddled with it.
"She's a prude." John replied, seemingly forgetting about his own guitar for the moment.
George scrunched up his nose and looked up. "Yer probably just sayin' that because she didn't want to get in yer bed."
John scoffed. "And that makes 'er a prude."
George shook her head. "No, it makes 'er smart. I like 'er. She's just.." He paused trying to find the right word to describe Joleen Harper. "..An angel, really." He finished, smiling goofily. Paul shook his head, smiling a bit as he went back to his guitar.
"A homeroom angel." Pete suggested before he went back to his drums.
George pondered on that thought for a while. A homeroom angel.. His homeroom angel. He grinned, shifting his guitar over his shoulder as he walked down the street to his home. He liked the sound of that.
Joleen Harper, George Harrison's homeroom angel.
