Miracle

    "Look at me. I'm the teacher!" said the boy with the slicked back hair, squinty eyes, and thin lips. He impersonated the lettering teacher, by screaming at the top of his lungs, "You've all got detention! You, and you, and you!" He pointed at random students in the class. They all roared with laughter at the clown's funny imitation. The young man absorbed the laughter and took a bow.

    "John Lennon," the teacher said, "Stop your behavior this instant." He snarled, and a young John Lennon snarled back.

    Everyone loved John. He was the class clown, the one that made everyone laugh. To top it off, he was the leader of a very talented musical group, the Quarry Men. Of course, the boys grades weren't the best, although he was more focused on his band than his academics. He knew his band had what it took to be famous.

   It's not like academics were his passion, either. A student at the Liverpool College of Art, he wasn't quite interested in learning about art, as opposed to making it.

   The dismissal bell rang, telling the students to move on to the next class. John, wearing a black leather jacket and ripped up blue jeans, pused everyone aside, running to the door. One young girl accidentally got pushed too hard by the rough boy.

   "Whoops," John said, stepping back a bit, "You should watch where you're going, Cynthia." He laughed at his joke, while Cynthia gave him a look of disgust.

   Cynthia Powell was a blonde, slim girl, with a slightly puckered smile. She was terribly shy, yet managed to have plenty of friends. She was the only person who didn't enjoy John's crazy antics during class time. In fact, she hated John, and even feared him.

   "Come on," John smiled mischieviously at poor girl, "Can't you take a joke?" He pushed her again, laughed, and walked out the door. Cynthia shuddered and followed him out. 

   As she was on her way to her next class, she asked herself, "What does everyone find so funny about that boy?" Yes, his jokes were humorous, and he himself was quite a comical individual, but he also had a cruel side. H eobviously enjoyed messing with the females.

  Cynthia just didn't find it funny. She found the jokes, and him, a bit frightening. He frustrated her. She didn't like that boy. She probably never would.

   "Where are we going, lads?" John asked his bandmates.

   "To the toppermost, Johnny!" The three other boys chanted in unison. This chant had become a famous one upon the Quarry Men.

    "And where is that?"

   "The toppermost of the poppermost!"

   The boys all laughed, and plopped into the chairs in John's Aunt Mimi's house.

   John had lived with Aunt Mimi since hewas five years old. His mother, Julia Lennon, could not take care of the boy after his father left to become a seasman. Julia, a fun-spirited, happy woman frequently visited her sister Mimi, who was quite a strict guardian.

   It was through Julia that John learned to play guitar. She'd come over to Aunt Mimi's for tea, and taught a young, eager John the basics of the instrument.  Julia loved visiting her son, which she did daily, although she acted as more of a sister than a mother.

   John stared at all his bandmates. Three scruffy-looking, leather-wearing teenage boys. They all sat in his house, laughing, joking, communicating with each other. They were some of his closest friends.

   Paul McCartney, a baby-faced 17 year old boy, was one of the groups guitarists. He was great at playing his instrument, and had a lovely singing voice. He was a charming, good-looking lad, who was considered a perfectionist.

  George Harrison was the youngest member of the band, only 15 years old. The lead guitarist, he was brilliant with his instrument. He was a handsome fellow, although awfully shy.

  Stuart Sutcliffe attended college with John, and therefore was, like him, 18 years old. The two boys were good friends, which was the reason behind Stu joining the group as their bassist. He could play well enough to be in the band, but he wasn't anywhere near as talented as the others. He was a mysterious boy, with a passion and true talent for art.

   John looked at his goofy friends, and smirked and tiny smirk.  He was certainly a lucky boy.

   "Lads," John called to them, seriously. All the boys' heads snapped towards John.

   "We haven't been making much money, have we, men?"

   The three boys mumbled, and starred into space.

   John leaned towards the boys in his chair. "This simply means," he stated, authoritatively, "that we need to start playing more gigs." He raised his left eyebrow, staring at the three with a little smile on his face.

   "I know of a little joint, here in Liverpool, called the Jaracanda. The owner, Allan Williams, has offered us to play at his place." All the boys grinned and cheered.

   "When do we start, Johnny?" Paul asked his friend.

   "Sometime next month."

   "That's an awful long time," Paul complained.

   "Yes, but," John said, "we get paid 20 pounds a week." 

   The boys ran around the room, hopping, screaming, and cheering after hearing about their pay. Paul jumped up and down while making funny faces. George ran up and down the stairs. Stu and John laughed.The four lads couldn't wait for this new gig at the Jaracanda.

   "Where are we going, lads?"

   "To the toppermost, Johnny!"

   "And where is that?"

  "The toppermost of the poppermost!"

  And, ever so slowly, they were reaching their destination.