Keep Your Hands Off My Baby

Art School

"Another boring day at art school." My friend Pete said as he walked with me out of the bus. "Well, don't you want to be a famous artist some day? I mean, math never did nothin' for me. I feel like art is the only thing that's interesting at this big brick building." I said to him combing my hair back with my fingertips. "Oh, come on, John. You don't really want art to be your life do you?" He said. I just shrugged. "Would you rather be a factory sweeper?" He shrugged with a laugh. "Maybe."

A beautiful girl with shoulder length auburn hair, a navy blue dress that went just above her knees, fishnet tights and books clutched in her hand held against her chest. Pete cat-called her. "It's Cynthia Powell." I looked at him with an eyebrow raised. "Y'know, Cynthia Powell? Prettiest girl in the whole damn school." He said acting like I was stupid or something. I shrugged. "Heard she has a bloke already, though." He said with a sigh.

Her auburn hair reminded me of my mother's. I don't really see my mum much, I live with my aunt Mimi. My mum got me into art, music and all that stuff that my aunt calls "girly". My mum bought me a banjo when I was younger but I quickly got into guitar. She plays the ukulele. She's very supportive and loves to hear my poetry and see my drawings, hear my music... But Mimi uses my poetry to keep the fire going in the winter.

She won't let me play music at her house. She once hid my guitar and I couldn't find it for a week! Anyway, as I walked up to the steps leading the way into the tight classroom full of art supplies and sweaty students, I noticed her again. I heard the lads talk about Cynthia before. Always "she's so beautiful!" Or "she's so annoying!". Never in between. They say she's one of those teacher's pet kind of girls.

Well, what do I care. She's got a bloke, I've got a bird. Barbara Watson is my girlfriend, she's got gorgeous blonde hair and even though she can't look as good in fishnet tights as Cynthia can Barb's much better than her, I think. Why am I thinking about Cynthia again... I shouldn't be thinking about her... Although there is a dance coming up in the school and Barbara doesn't go here... Maybe I could ask her to dance and maybe somehow she isn't what the lads say she is.

Anyway, I have rehearsal to get to. I'm in a band called 'The Beatles' which used to be 'The Silver Beetles' and before that 'Long John and The Silver Beetles' and where it all started 'The QuarryMen.' We went through all of those different names in only a single year. My mate Stu Sutcliffe (who goes to my art school) says we should stick with 'The Beatles.' I just don't want to keep changing it. So I guess we will keep what we have.

The next day I saw Cynthia again, this time fashioning a black beret and a lavender turtleneck sweater, she wasn't looking and bumped right into me dropping all of her books. "Oh, I'm very sorry Mr. Lennon I-" She looked up at me and blushed. We stared at each other for a few seconds until I answered her.

"Just... Watch where you're going." I said shoving past her. I tried not to think about her too much, I already had a girlfriend. But somehow she slipped into my mind and I was helpless to get her out. What did I need her for? She's such a teacher's-pet...