Candy [MCCARTNEY]

FIVE

Further in, standing beside the swing-set with his phone in his hand and a cigarette in the other, was George. My feet began to move toward his direction when my eyes migrated to the right, offering me the jarring sight of John and Stuart Sutcliffe gently swinging on the two seats, rocking on their heels, heads turned to one another, passing their own smoke-stick between them.

"Oh god," I mumbled to myself, immediately feeling uncomfortable.

John was the first to spot me as I approached, a grin spreading across his lips, almost sarcastically. "Hey hey," he greeted, to which I nodded solemnly.

To Stuart — who I only knew because, honestly, he was Stuart — I smiled. Before he had graduated, and probably even to this day, Stu was a favourite student and almost every girl I had ever come in contact with had fawned over his mere mentioning. Frankly, it was newsworthy just to be standing a few feet from him.

I focused my gaze on George and he turned to me, sending me his own genuine smile. "What's going on?"

"I didn't know you were bringing friends."

He put his phone back in his pocket. "They were in the neighbourhood. We're going by Richie's — you coming?"

In a way I knew I shouldn't - and I really, probably was being too sensitive - I felt slighted by George. Sometimes it was such a difficult task to see into his head and work out what he was thinking and I could tell he understood this as I stared him down with a blank face.
I had thought he wanted to hang out, and now he was just tossing me an option.

"I was under the impression we were going to be exclusive," I mumbled to him, turning my face out of view from John and Stu as they continued to push themselves slightly on the children's swings.

A few puppy-dog eyes and promises of cigarette-supply later, I was kicking stones beside George on the footpath while John and his fae-like Second in Command lead the way. 
Deep in the pit of my stomach, I wanted to open my stupid mouth and announce I needed to go home, that my mother had just texted, and it was so much fun hanging out, but really, truly, I needed to bounce. But — I didn't. And in hindsight, I'm thankful.

"So, you've graduated?"

Looking up from George's phone, which he had held up for me to forcibly scald my eyeballs with another meme he found hilarious, I met John's gaze as he walked backwards slowly, obviously meaning to begin a conversation.

I pursed my lips, examining his face for a second; his almond shaped, golden eyes and heavy eyebrows were a sharp contrast to his light-hearted, jeery personality, and I appreciated why so many girls valued a midnight joy-ride with Lennon over obedience.

"I'm a senior — like George," I answered, raising my brow slightly. George had obviously never spoken about me and I felt sore over my lack of street credit because of this.

"How come I've never seen you before?" John said, continuing this awkward conversation. To his left, Stu took out a headphone, but didn't join in.

"We've only recently become close, I guess," I indicated to George. "Our parents want us to get married."

John widened his eyes, but obviously caught on with the humour. "Is that so? Do you guys fool around, or. . ?"

George scoffed and I grinned at the absurdity. We exchanged glances, and for a second, I almost entertained the thought.

"No way, man," George interjected. "She's all over the Milton street Preacher." 

George never graduated from 'Contextual Inside Joke' school.

Now, I've made it clear that although John was a fine looking creature, with a marvellous sense of humour - though he could probably do with a pack of condoms - I was not at all particularly fond toward him. However, in the next sentence that he uttered, all raspy and Scouse, I could have kissed all over his face until he combusted into a splash of daffodils and yellow.

"So ya fancy McCharmly, aye?"

My heart began to race, but I smothered it gently with a nonchalant: "who?"

"Paul McCartney? Hang on — let me paint a picture," John closed his eyes and Stu (who I can imagine rolled his) gripped his arm to make sure he didn't fall over as he continued to walk backwards. "Feathery hair, luscious lips, angelic eyes. Wets the panties of every girl within a 500 thousand kilometre radius."

I crossed my arms, attempting to contain myself. "Sounds like him, sure. But no, I don't fancy Paul."

John fluttered open his eyes, offering me a simple look of frank disbelief, and yet he let it be. "Oh, I believe you." Turning himself the right way around, he continued to walk forward.

I looked to George, unsure of myself and completely buzzing. He shrugged, managing a grin, flashing his sharp eye teeth, that transformed him into a sly vampire in the mid-day sun.
In my brain, every electrical circuit was lit up with the name Paul McCartney Paul McCartney Paul McCartney, over and over and over.

  ✞ 

At home.
Seated on my soft chair, damp hair drying and dripping down my back, eyes fixated on the screen. Down in the corner, my cousin - who only lived a few streets away - Cynthia popped up.

Cynthia Powell
Yeah, Paul was in a lower grade at school. Why?

Popping the lollipop from my lips, I held it between my fingers, almost hearing the blood rushing through me. When would it stop circulating? It was getting annoying.

no reason

On John's Facebook page, I clicked on his friend list, and - it all seemed blurred, like I had executed it all in one swift movement of a hand - typed in Paul's name.

Biting my lip in severe anticipation, I watched him appear and clicked 'Add Friend' before I gave myself a chance to think.

Cynthia Powell
Do you know John Lennon?

unfortunately

Cynthia Powell
Do you think he's cute lol

stop

  ✟✞ ✟✞ 

[EDITED]