Somewhere Boy

Chapter 12

John stumbled his way home and crept into his room by coming in through one of the downstairs windows.

He woke up the next day with a pounding headache. He looked around his almost too bright room and stood up. The world spun for a minute as he stood, and his vision was even worse than before. He closed his curtains to let himself stand in a dimly lit bedroom. He looked at his jacket, slung over his desk chair hastily. A napkin poked out of it, nice and folded. He gingerly grabbed it and opened it up, the following words written in the best cursive he'd ever seen:

Call me when you get the chance,

- Cynthia Powell

Next to her name was her phone number, followed by a few hearts scattered on the paper. He folded it back up and placed it back in his pocket. Should he be meeting up with her? Shes nice and all but what will Robyn think? John sighed. He forgot all about Robyn when he met Cynthia, maybe she wouldn't even be mad if he did decide to hang out with her. Robyn was a friend too, even if they were more than friends at this point, still, friends. Unless Robyn specifically said that they were dating, in which case, Cynthia was a friend. But why would be feel that way about her when he thought he loved Robyn? Oh well. This entire thing with girls is too confusing for his own good, he gets a headache from thinking about it, even when he doesn't have a hangover.

John decided to stay in bed for another hour, then got up and showered to get ready for the rehearsal tonight. It was the dress rehearsal that Robyn was supposed to attend. The guys are still expecting to see a bird there, maybe he will invite someone else. John did his hair and threw on clothes and glasses, to avoid getting yelled at by Aunt Mimi. John did go downstairs and said hello to her and they had small talk about weather and rehearsal. Her mood wasn't horrible this time, which was a nice change for him.

John walked out of the house at 6 pm, knowing full well that he will be late for it. But did he care? Of course not. He took off his glasses and held onto the strap of his guitar case.

He made it to one of his friend's backyards and he smiled and looked around the room.

"Mornin' fellas!" He said, as everyone stopped fiddling with their instruments and looked at the leader. They all mumbled a good morning before Stan marched up to John.

"What did I fuckin' say to ye about being late!" He seemed stressed. Poor lad.

"I didn't know this was a chemistry class." John replied. He looked away from Stan and saw Cynthia, sat down on top of the boys' cooler. Her hair was a beautiful blonde and she wore a black dress with a white belt around the waist. She also wore tights under them, followed by flat shoes. She looked at John after talking to Pete Best, their drummer. She shone her beautiful smile at him. He ignored Stan and walked over to Cynthia.

"You actually did it?" He looked at her blonde locks and she nodded, making the hair shake. He turned his gaze down to her eyes. A stunning, shining brown, filled with happiness.

"I always stick to my word. Anyway, the lads have been waiting years for you to show up, so start playing, yeah?" She spoke with authority in her voice. John liked that in her. He took his guitar case off of his shoulder and placed it down, taking out his guitar and walking up to the makeshift microphone they had in the center of the yard. Cynthia sat back down on the cooler, crossing her legs and folding her hands in her lap. She had straight posture, something that didn't come naturally to any kid that was raised in Liverpool.

They played their set list all the way through, having Cynthia as their first audience. She interacted with the music, whether by clapping or by humming along, she became part of the performance. John would glance at Cynthia sometimes and she would look back, giving him a sweet grin as she moved her foot along to the music. They would lock eyes for a good minute then be torn away from each other.