The Ballad of Paul & Stella_
I walk down the hallway of the art college in Liverpool, England with one thought on my mind, to simply get to lettering class on time. The beautiful architecture of the building would amaze many people, and it has for me many times before, but not today. I can't be late to my first class. I hurry through all the people, my long blonde hair blowing behind me. My arms are full of books, and it feels as if my arms will break at any given minute. I wish I could go faster, but my tight grey skirt makes it difficult to even walk correctly. The hallway is filled with chatter from the students, and in the midst of it all I hear someone whistle as I walk past. I'm used to hearing this, and I have been told by many people that I'm beautiful. Not to be full of myself, but I have to agree with them. Although I'm not sure what side of the family I get that from.
I keep walking, not making eye contact with the group of boys leaning against the lockers, studying me. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the whole lot of them laughing and nudging a tall teddy boy with Buddy Holly style glasses in his hand. I feel a chill run through me, but push it away. Just another bunch of jerks. I could care less.
Once I get to my class, I look around the classroom at all of the students, and frown to see that I don't know a single one of them. I walk over to a girl in the middle row of the class and set my things in the desk beside her on the end of the row. "May I sit here?" I ask, smiling. She nods and grins back. "I'm Cynthia Powell." She says, turning herself to face me. "I'm Stella McKenzie." I smile. "So do you know anybody in here? I don't know a single person." She shrugs and looks around. "Well, there's Phyl. She's been my best friend for two years." She says cheerfully, pointing at a brunette with her hair let down like Cynthia's. My hair is bumped up towards the back, but the rest is hanging freely over my shoulders and halfway down my torso. Not long after I meet Phyl, the teacher walks into the classroom and introduces herself. All of the seats are filled except for five, including the one behind me. That doesn't bother me in the least, I saw plenty of guys staring at the desk, but not one had the nerve to sit in it. Except for one. As soon as I thought I was in the clear, about ten minutes later, the door opens and in struts a boy looking like a teddy boy in leathers and greased back hair, holding on to a pair of heavy rimmed Buddy Holly style glasses. I freeze and keep myself from turning with the rest of the class towards the boy. The teacher looks over and grimaces. I take it she's had him in class before. "Oh, you've returned." She says in a disappointed voice. "Oh, you've returned." He repeats in a mocking tone. Her face flushes red, but she tries to keep her cool. "Take a seat, sir." The class turns forward again and I hear him walk over to the desk directly behind me and sit down. I bite my lip and try to keep cool. I don't want to be the victim.
After a long time of lecturing, it's our chance to do something. We are instructed to take out a pencil, and we all do so. As I take out my own, I feel someone tap my shoulder. I turn around to face the boy who's leaning back in his seat. "Yes?" I ask, looking him straight in the eye. "Do you have a pencil I could use?" He asks, a grin coming across his face. "Yes, I do." I answer, just staring at him. He looks me over. "Can I use it?" I pretend to think it over. "Yes, I think you could use it, now that you mention it." I turn around and face forward, and smile to hear him groan. He leans forward and whispers in my ear, "May I use your pencil?" I hold up a pencil to him without looking, and he takes it. "Thank you." A while passes when I feel him running his fingers through my hair. I grab it and whip around. "Just what do you think you're doing?" I scold. He grins. "You're wonderful to look at." I raise an eyebrow and turn around again. A little bit later, he whispers in my ear. "Hard to get, are you?" I take a deep breath, trying to control myself. "I have a boyfriend, just so you know." He laughs. "I bet he's just a friend. Isn't he?" I don't say anything. He saw right through me. "Can I at least have your name?" He says, somehow intriguingly. "Stella McKenzie." I say without thinking. I turn around to face him. He's grinning. "Stella… Stella, Stella, Stella." He smiles so I can see his teeth. "And you are…?" I say, trying not to smile. "John Lennon." He says with a wink. This time I can't stop myself from smiling. There's something different about this boy, something fantastic. God only knows what it is, but whatever he's got, I love it.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything all rights go to either the living/deceased get all credit to themselves Beatlemania9 gets full credit for this story.
