Take Me To Church (A John Lennon Story)

Chapter Three: All Good Children Go To Heaven

When Mr. Connors dismissed us for the last day of school, I quickly wished him a good holiday and hurried out the door.  

For months then, I had been writing letters to the mystery man.  I still had no idea who he was.  I suspected it was John, but I hadn't seen him much at school.  But, for some reason, I wanted to.  

He had, however, been in my science class that day.  I was one of the last people to leave the school.  But as I put the last of my things in my locker, someone grabbed my waist.  Without warning, I turned around and smacked the offender with my bag.  I didn't realize how hard I could hit until then.  

"Oi!  What the hell?" John said, rubbing his forehead.

I didn't reply.  I didn't know whether or not to be sorry.  Without saying another word, I hurried down the hall.  He ran after me.  "Wait, please!"  

Out of fear, I broke into a run when I reached the end of the schoolyard.  Unfortunately, he was faster.  He grabbed my arms, and I cried out in fear.  He led me into an alley between buildings.  I was so frightened I had tears in my eyes.  "Please...let me go!  I won't tell anyone!"  

"Shh..." he looked around, afraid that someone would see and get suspicious.  "I'm not going to hurt you."  To emphasize the point, he let go of me.  I slumped against the wall.  My chest hurt horribly and my heart was racing.  Please don't panic, not now.  Not in front of him.

"Look...I don't want to scare you.  I just...I wanted to walk you home.  A girl like you shouldn't be walking home alone in a seedy place like this."  He offered a hand to me.  

To anyone passing by, it might have been a bit of a strange sight.  A boy, dressed in black leather, biker boots and with greasy, gelled hair, lending a hand to girl in a plain white dress.  It was as though a devil's assistant was helping an angel.  

And the angel accepted.

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"I'm sorry for grabbing you.  Most girls would have just laughed it off.  I don't know you well enough to know how you would have reacted."  John lit a cigarette as we walked.  He offered one to me, and I shook my head immediately.  He chuckled.  "Good for you.  A pretty bird such as yourself shouldn't have a nasty habit." 

I swallowed hard.  Why did he have to keep complementing me?  It made me uncomfortable, for I didn't know how to respond without showing interest.  

"You don't talk much, do you?"  He said.  But then he stopped on the sidewalk.  "Are you afraid of me?"

For a few minutes, I didn't respond.  "I'm not sure." I was almost inaudible.  John smirked.  "At least you're honest.  Most would say 'no,' but they are."  

In that moment, I let my imagination run wild.  And in my mind, John took my face in his hands, and for some reason, I didn't panic.  Lost in his eyes, I felt like I might swoon.  "You shouldn't ever be afraid."  But I couldn't feel him kiss me.  

We kept walking, and I tried to push those thoughts out of my mind.  Why did these thoughts suddenly come now?  Father told me that as I aged that unholy thoughts would become more irresistible.  I had never truly had any thoughts such as those.  At least, not until I met John.  

When we reached a block from my house, I stopped him.  "Thank you for walking me home...but you need to go now.  Please."  

"Why?"  

I had been asking myself that question for the same reason a lot lately.  

"If my father sees you, he'll be angry with me.  You must go before he starts looking for me."