The Gift of Knowing

Chapter 3

In recent chapters George has recieved his new guitar, which he then named Aaron. After his obsession with the famed Elvis Aaron Presley. Currently at the ripe, young age of 14 and attending Liverpool Institute for Boys, whilst there he meets someone who become almost like an older brother to him.

It's been awhile since I last wrote, I've just been so caught up in Aaron I don't seem to have the time for anything or anyone else. I've found myself missing it, pouring my thoughts and feelings through pen onto paper. It's a rather good way to practice for song writing, Paul told me.

Paul.

I met him a couple days ago, it was a brief conversation, nothing of much interest. Until he mentioned something that I really liked, I suppose I should just write how it all happened.

I was walking the halls of Liverpool Institute for Boys, the school I attend, the fingers of my right hand tapping a foreign rythm on my thigh. My left hand held my bag, which contained my books, swinging to and fro as I continued down the hallway. Whistling a random tune I had come up with, I was lost in thought in my own fantasy world. The final bell had recently rung and I was in a rush to get home to Aaron. Apparently others were in a rush as well, which would explain my getting knocked to the ground from a running peer.

"I'm sorry, forgive me mate. I hadn't been watching where I was going, though I don't expect you were either." A soft yet gruff, voice said, filled with apology. A hand was thrust into my own as I was pulled up off the ground after our little run in with each other.

I looked up, my eyes connecting with ginormous, round, hazel eyes. Much like a doe's in the nature books I've read, framed by long brown eyelashes. Complimenting the perfectly arched brown eyebrows, and a matching head of hair gelled in the style of Elvis. Smooth ivory skin, along with a few blemishes that come with your teenage years. A button nose and an almost cherry, plump satin bow for a mouth. A peachy tone across his cheeks matched that color of the tip of his nose, undoubtedly from the cold snow outside.

This kid was a doll.

This boy paid no attention to my staring, after picking up my fallen bags and handing it to me. He then proceeded to brush the snow of my thick, dark woolen grey overcoat that he had accidently gotten on me when we collided. He looked at one of my books, quickly flipping through the pages. I idly noticed that that particular one was filled with my drawings of guitars, he studied it for a moment, then deciding to give it back to me. I thanked him, and said apologies were of no need. As we both were at fault. He grinned at me, shining his perfectly straight pearl teeth. Once again, he grasped my hand.

"The names James, James Paul McCartney. I prefer Paul though." I shook his hand, a little rattled that someone a year older me wasn't pummeling me, instead being friendly.

"I-I-I'm George, George Harrison. You can call me George." I inwardly cringed at how frightened I sounded, but Paul only gave me an amused chuckle instead of a fist.

"I see you like guitars, do you play?" I nodded, getting enthusiastic. "Damn right I play, I can even play Raunchy." I blushed at my swear, knowing mother would be ashamed. But desperately wanting to be accepted by Paul, I didn't know much about him. But I knew he hung out with the older, more rebellious type. Or so they say. His grin got impossibly bigger,

"Really? That's impressive, I've just joined a group called The Quarreymen. Maybe you've heard of us, maybe you haven't. The leader is named John Lennon, he would be impressed with your skills. Especially being so young, I'll try and find a time where we can all meet together. So he can hear you play, if you'd like to that is."

I gaped at him, not even caring that I most likely looked like a fish out of water. After a few seconds I finally came to my senses.

"O-of course I'd love to meet up! Let me give you my address so you know where to find me!" I tore of a piece of paper from the notebook filled with my sketches of guitars. Setting the other books on the ground I took a pen out of my pocket and wrote down the following;

25 Upton Green, Speke

I gave it to him, and he happily accepted it, tucking it into his coat pockets. Paul smiled at me again, the look he gave me reminded me of the look Peter gives me sometimes. Like, I was his younger brother. My heart warmed at the thought,

"Well, I've got to get going mate. Going to meet up with John and the lads soon to practice, I'll see you around, George."

I grinned widely, "Yeah, see you around!" Paul waved before opening the door to the school and leaving, without turning back. I ran home after that, and he I am now. Writing this.

Amazing isn't it, my life just keeps getting better and better. Paul says that John can be a bit of an arse, to put it lightly. He also said that he likes drawing to, so it's good that we have something in common. I can't wait to meet John and the other lads, I'm going to blow them away. But to do that I must practice, which I will go and do now.

Author's Note:

So, how did you guys like it? George met Paul and soon he'll be meeting The Quarreymen! Which includes our loveable John Lennon, I wonder how he'll react. With George being so young and all. Review please, I love any type of feedback!