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" When I hold you in my arms and I feel my finger on your trigger, I know nobody can do me no harm!
Because... "
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Tired and sluggish, I walked through a set of large metal doors. I immediately was greeted with the familiar sound of people's footsteps echoing down each corridor. The first day of school was just about to begin. The many different noises of students talking amongst one another filled the atmosphere, just as they had done before Summer break.
A couple of boys were leaning against the wall, trying to chat up some cute birds, but clearly not succeeding. Other students were sitting in the lunch room, waiting for the bell to ring accompanied by their friends.
However, once that bell did ring, we were supposed to be in our classes, on time, quietly sat at our desks.
Notice how I said, "supposed to be."
Each corridor felt so nostalgic to walk down yet again. Some posters were peeling off the wall that had been there for quite some time. Passing by some rusty, beaten up lockers that were God knows how old, I can still remember my first year here like it was yesterday. Sometimes I have to wonder where all that time went... Lost in thought, I stared down at the tiles beneath my feet as I navigated through the crowded halls.
I walked into my first class of the day, English class, anxiously shuffling into my seat. Once I sat down, I leaned my rucksack against my desk and dusted my clothes off to make sure I looked somewhat presentable on the first day back.
"Ey, Paul!" A boy called out from behind me. I could recognize that voice from anywhere.
I quickly turned around in my seat, "Hah, yeah, Geo?"
"Do ye got any spare pencils that I can borrow?" He asked me, leaning his hand on the back of my chair. "Also, eh... Happy first day, right?"
"Ah, c'mon, George... It's the first day back. Of all things, how could ye have forgotten to bring a bloody-" I was saying until the bell rung, thus interrupting me.
"H- Here, jus take this one, alright?" I said, quietly passing him an old pencil I dug up from the bottom of my rucksack.
"Thanks, yer a good man!" George chuckled. "Ye make me have a little bit of hope for this school year." He gestured with his fingers, "Jus a little."
I watched the other students around me, noticing that most people seemed vaguely familiar. I readjusted my chair and stared blankly at the teacher, who was giving us a pointless "first day of school" lecture.
It may only be the first day back, yet everything already felt so dull. However, about ten or so minutes into the class, the door made a loud creaking sound as it opened, catching the attention of every bored student in the room that was just waiting for something interesting to happen.
I jolted my head towards the doorway and saw a tall, chestnut-haired boy with a tattered school uniform on, the neck of his shirt unbuttoned, messy, and untucked from his trousers.
"Ah, so sorry I'm late." He said, letting the door slam behind him. "Traffic, ye know?"
"You can't fool me, I've been teaching for longer than you've been alive. You walk to get here every morning, don't you?" The teacher asked the boy.
The boy grinned. "Eh. ...Sidewalks, ye know? Ye'd be surprised how they seem to jus... pile up wi' people!"
The teacher stood there silently for a moment, holding back a grin, "That was absolutely terrible, Lennon." He paused, "Next time, I reckon you make up a better excuse than that one."
"Yeah, well... a shame, that is. I tried me best comin' up wi' that story, Mister. I practiced it all night! So, uh... really, my deepest apologies." The boy fluttered his eyelashes stupidly.
"Right, right..." The teacher then slammed his fist down upon his lectern, "Now, take a seat! You're wasting everybody's time just standing there." He shouted.
Without daring to speak another word, the boy pondered around the desks before sitting in one that was two rows away from mine. This kid looked like the personification of trouble. Hell, I don't even know his name, and yet I can just tell that he has something about him.
An edge, maybe.
He makes me feel a tad nervous.
Slowly, but surely, the teacher's boring speech came to an end and we were finally able to go on to our next class, not that it'd be any better. As each student poured out of the classroom, George began to catch up with me in the corridors.
"So, what's the plans for after school, Paulie?" George asked.
"Haven't got a clue! ...Why?"
"Well, ...I've got an idea!-" George tried to say, but was interrupted shortly after when that Lennon-boy from earlier hit George's shoulder as he walked by.
"Sorry, mate." He said, "Ye should watch where yer walkin' a bit better."
George raised a brow, looking a bit ticked at the boy. I shot my friend a look as to lay off the matter. George simply rolled his eyes.
"S'alright." George looked away from him as I carried on walking.
"What a stupid git, ain't he?" George snapped as he followed me close behind.
"Be careful, he could hear ye still!" I replied nervously.
"And? What's got ye so worked up? The day's jus begun, and yer beginnin' to sound like me Mum."
"I- uh, well..." I ran over some reasons in my head, "I jus don't think it's a good idea to make enemies wi' him! He does look like trouble, don't ye think?"
"...Anyroad. Did ye wanna meet me down at the Snack Shack after school, or what?" George finally suggested his idea.
"Um- 'Course I do!" I smiled. "Not much else better to do in this town."
"Alright, then. See ye 'round!" George then walked into his next class and I went into mine.
The rest of the school day felt like it took centuries to conclude as I only had that one class with George. Being that I only have one true friend here at school, I tend to feel rather lonely, sometimes. Atleast the two of us can hangout later today...
"No, you can't go!" My father scorned me. "You should know this very well, by now... my house, my rules, James."
"But why not, Da?! I'll only be but a few blocks away! And I'll be with George, he'll keep me straight!" I pleaded.
"You can't negotiate this one! It was the first day of school, and you don't need to be slacking off already." He reiterated it for me. "Don't you wanna have a real life, son?! Don't you wanna be a man with just a shred of dignity? 'Cause you aren't gonna accomplish that goal by hanging around that George all day!"
I stayed silent for a few seconds and made my way up to my bedroom. I was so used to this same song and dance. What was I to tell George? I guess I could call him?
I dialed up his number, my hands shivering frantically, still being shaken up by that conversation with my Father.
No matter how many times I tried, the line would just continue to be ignored. What the Hell is George doing so obsessively that he can't even pick up the phone?! Either Da' just cut the tele line completely, or George was ignoring me. It really could be either end of the latter. I might've been a bit too pushy to my friend, today... I don't know what got the better of me.
I could just sneak out? Oh, but what if I got caught?! Da' would have my head if I just left, wouldn't he? I thought on this for a moment.
Whatever. I'm tired of letting that old man drag me down. I mean, he's got no right to talk to me that way! I'm not some snot-nosed kid he can just keep under his thumb, anymore. Things change, people grow. Maybe I can show him a prime example of it, firsthand.
I climbed out of my window and down the drainage pipe, needing a moment to catch my breath. The walk to George's isn't so bad, but it isn't easy, either. Especially during this time of year, the hot and muggy air outside can feel so thick.
When I finally did get to George's, I was already dead tired, but excited to be able to spend time with my bestfriend.
"Look who decided to show up, Paul McCartney, in the flesh!" George laughed sarcastically.
"My old man was givin' me trouble at home, it's the reason I'm so late. So, naturally, ...as one does... I snuck out!" I smiled through my anxiety.
George gasped, "Paul McCartney? Breaking the rules?! Who are ye?" He joked around as I playfully punched his shoulder. "An imposter?"
"Hah... I'm gonna be murdered the minute I get home tonight, aren't I?" I chuckled nervously.
"Paul, if ye need to go back home, I'd understa-" George tried to suggest.
"No! No... Dont worry about it. I'll deal with it later. Jus pick up the phone next time, will ye?" I reassured him quickly.
"Ah, sorry 'bout that, mate. In all honesty, I was jus feelin' pretty lazy getting to the phone." George scratched the back of his head, "Well then, since yer here now though, let's be off!" George grabbed his sweater off the jumper rack and we began our walk.
George was right, though. I never disobey my father, but I guess there's a first for everything! And besides, just because he's my Da' doesn't mean he has the authority to treat me like a child.
"I can't believe ye snuck out, are ye sure yer gonna be okay?" George said, swallowing a chip.
I sighed and looked down at the floor of the diner, "Can we please jus... stop talkin' abou' it, Geo? I'm nervous 'nuff as it is."
"Yeah, yeah." George replied awkwardly. "So, where to after this?"
"Hmm... dunno..." I said, thinking to myself. "Maybe we can go down to the record store? Last time we went was pretty fun, no?"
"I haven't got any money, but sure!" George smiled.
We walked over to the store across the street and began perusing through the vast collection of vinyl records. Even though we didn't have the money for them right now, just looking through shelves upon shelves of music with a friend is always nice. Music's one of the reasons George and I have become so close in the first place, you know?
The evening with Georgie was fun, but all Hell broke loose once I got home.
I slowly walked through the front door and shut it behind me as softly as I could. The more noise I made, the more attention would be drawn to me, and that's the last thing I need tonight.
"James Paul Mccartney, where on God's creation have you been?!" My Father screamed with a reddened face covered in sweat. The look in his eyes burned me like a hot flame.
"I jus went down to the Snack Shack with Geor-" I began to say, until he grabbed me by the collar of my shirt. His breath was riddled with the smell of cinnamon whiskey.
"So, you defied me?!" He was yelling so harshly, spit was flying at my face. "Ignored my wishes when I said no, huh? I guess I shouldn't be so surprised at this point. What a waste of time, having me worried sick the whole entire time you were out."
His eyes looked completely empty. Like there was nothing behind them at all. Whenever he's thrown into a fit of rage like this, I have to wonder if it's really my Father behind those cold eyes.
"Hey, what's going on?!" Mikey, my little brother, came out of his room in a rush. "It's late, y'know..."
"Get back in your room, Mike!" My father demanded with a pointed finger.
I pulled away from my Father's grip as he was distracted and ran upstairs, locking myself in my room. I absolutely hate when he drinks, he always overreacts and then eventually starts getting physical. I just can't deal with that, not right now.
Ever since she passed away... Mary... My Mother... My Father has been a very troubled man. I can't even recognize him anymore through this dark, dark haze.
Fists quickly made their way against my door, threatening to hurt me. I only trembled back in fear.
Slam
Slam
Slam
Slam
Four violent knocks.
"Open the Goddamn door, James!" He yelled. "And quit pushin' me like this, you're almost forcing my hand... If you'd just listen to me- I'll bust it down if I have to! We need to have a little talk, don't you think?!"
"Don't you dare call me that name!" I yelled back in return as tears flushed into my eyes. I hate when he calls me "James", for it's his own name. How could he call me that when him and I are nothing alike?
He laughed, "I'm your Father, ...have you forgotten? I can call you whatever I damn well please!" And finally, with one last kick, he budged my bedroom door wide-open.
Which isn't exactly a good sign for me.