⇾ 𝐊𝐄𝐄𝐏 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒 𝐎𝐅𝐅 𝐌𝐘 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 | 𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐧 𝐋𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐧 𝐈

Chapter One: Ye From London?

August 1, 1961

My parents died in a car crash when I was just over a year old, but I was told they loved me, and I chose to believe it. I was raised mostly by my grandparents, but when I was sixteen, they became too frail to care for me, so then it was off to a new place.

Next destination was a children's home in northern London. I lived there with ten other girls aged from five to seventeen. By the time Brian Epstein came by, most of them were gone.

Only remaining were two. Me and some other girl named Ruth. She was younger than me and tried often, in vain, to get me to play with her.

Truth was, I didn't really like people. I feel that everything that happened to me was toxic.

So, when Brian showed up on the doorstep on a crisp morning in late December, I wasn't expecting him to choose me to live with him.

But he did, he chose me, and by July of the next year, I was moving in and being enrolled in my first public school, Quarry Bank High.

I was suspicious of it all, but who could blame me? Trouble seemed to follow everywhere I went.

~~~

"Hey, there," I heard from behind me. I turned, confused and a boy, taller, and visibly older than me, came to my side. His hair was styled up in what I assumed was a common updo in this area and his eyes were a beautiful shade of hazel. Following close behind him was a younger boy, probably my age.

"Hi?" I responded, confused.

"I-," the one that was next to him stuttered, perhaps alarmed at my accent.

"I'm Paul," said the one with the hazel eyes, ignoring the other.

"I-I'm Donna," I responded.

"Ye going to Quarry Bank, Donna?" asked Paul.

"Yes-."

"Lovely, isn't that? This is George. When ye graduating?"

"I-uh-this year."

"So am I," said Paul.

Who were these people and why were they talking to me?

"Oh, that's cool."

"Ye from London, Donna?"

"Yes, I-I-uh-yes, I am."

Was it that obvious?

"You like to stumble over words?" Paul raised his eyebrows.

"What? No, no, no."

"Okay, then. Ye doin anything later?"

"I-uh-no, I am not."

God, I was making a fool of myself.

Paul smiled a charming smile. "How 'bout ye meet Geo and I at lunch?"

"Sure-."

"Fancy meeting you, love," George added.

"And I you."

"Yer new, aren't ye?"

"Well, of course."

"That's lovely."

We arrived at the school a moment later. I learned that Paul and I were a year older than George and that the two boys were both guitarists that were a part of a skiffle group called the Beatles.

George showed me down the halls and around the place while Paul left us to sulk with some girl I obviously didn't know. I watched them as Paul didn't try to hide the fact he was flirting.

"He's always like that, if you were wondering," George said, his accent thick, scratching the back of his neck.

"I could imagine he is."

George smirked. "What was it like in London?"

"It was...well...lonely, I guess. I lived in a very small place."

"Oh, secluded."

I laughed. "Yup, it was definitely that."

George smirked. "Too bad," he said, "Liverpool isn't any different."

I frowned. "I think it is."

George raised his eyebrows and shoved his hands in his pockets. "Get back to me in a week."

I rolled my eyes. "Nothing can be as bad as where I used to live," I whined.

"And she'll soon come to regret that statement," George mocked. "What's your first class?"

I looked at the piece of paper in my hand. "Math?"

He looked at it over my shoulder. "Yes, that would be math. Right here."

We stepped in the room and George sighed. I wasn't sure why I was in the same class as him, being a year younger, but I went along with it nonetheless.

"Not excited?"

"The band and I are talkin' about going to Hamburg sometime." We sat down next to one another. "But, y'see, I'm underage, so I don't know what they're gonna do about it."

"Wait, Hamburg? Like in Germany?"

"No, Hamburg, Liverpool." He rolled his eyes. "Yes, Germany."

I felt myself turn pink. "That's really cool. I'm sure you guys are great."

"We're not really. Not yet, at least." He smiled. "John always says we're going 'to the toppermost of the poppermost,' whatever in the world that means." He shook his head. "I hope we can go somewhere. Maybe one day lots of people will know us-." His eyes lit up. "We can be like Elvis or something."

"Those are big dreams."

"Eh," he said. "I think dreaming is useless unless it's big, I suppose. I mean, why get hyped about something little? Like, say you're going somewhere out of town tomorrow. Calling that a dream's useless because, I guess, why should it be exhilarating and whatnot?"

I laughed. "I have no clue, George. I think big dreams are cool. You've got a point in saying a small dream shouldn't be a dream at all."

"Maybe I do, I'm just rubbish at explaining."

I shrugged. "I got the memo. Maybe if music fails, you can be a motivational speaker."

We laughed.

"Let's stick to music for now," he said.

"Okay, now, settle down." I heard the door close and watched as our teacher made his way to the front, running his eyes over us one by one and I sunk in my chair slightly.

Maybe this day wasn't gonna be so long after all.