The room grew quiet when they saw what I held out in my hand. "What is it?" asked Jane, who had no idea what I had been going through. Unless Paul told her, I thought grudgingly.

"It's a bullet shell," I said, "and a thread from a black ski mask."

"How's that important?" Jane asked again.

"A crazy person with a gun's been chasing 'er everywhere since we were filming the movie," said George. "And that's obviously where Eileen thinks that stuff came from."

"D'ya think that could be a clue to who it is?" asked Ringo.

I thought about if I should tell them for a moment. They're my friends, I thought. I can trust them. It can't hurt. "I already know who it is," I said.

"Who?" said Gwen, rather loudly. "Why haven't you told us?"

"Because it's a touchy subject," I said. "He's the man who killed my mum five years ago."

The room grew quiet. It was Jane that spoke up first. "A man killed your mum, and now he's out to get you?"

I nodded silently, trying not to cry.

"Wow, Eileen," said Ringo. "Who else knew about that?"

"I did," said John. "It must be painful, but it makes perfect since."

"That's sad," said Paul to no one in particular. Did he really think so?

"You're absolutely sure?" asked Pattie.

"Yep," I said. "I figured it out a week or so ago."

"How'd ye figure that?" asked George.

"I saw him outside the club the last time we were out," I said. "He was sitting in his car, and I recognized it from when he hit my mum. When I looked inside the car, I saw him, and I recognized him too, by his-" I shuddered-"black eyes."

"Is that why you were out so long?" asked Gwen.

"Yeah," I said. I glanced over at John. He looked beaten down and hurt. I can't say I blame him, I did lie to him after all. I felt real bad. I didn't mean to make him feel that way, I just didn't want to burden him with my problems. Something told me that he wouldn't have minded, though. Seeing him like that wrenched at my heart. Oh, stupid love, why did I have to be so deep in it with him?

"I'm sorry that had to happen to you," he said flatly. Then he got up and stormed off to his room.

"You must've had a very tough day then," whispered Jane. I knew exactly what she meant.

"I told you, Jane, that's over with," I said. I rushed over to John's room.

"John?" I said quietly as I pocked my head inside. "John, where are you?"

"I bet you liked that little lie you told me," said John, who was sitting in a dark corner by the bed, his face shadowed. "I can tell you did."

I sighed and came closer to him. "John, listen to me, I can explain-"
"Oh, explain all you want, love, it won't change your lie," said John. The fact that he called me "love" sent a pang through my heart.

"John," I said, "I lied because I didn't want to burden you with my problems. I didn't want to make you feel that you had to protect me more than you have to do already."

"Eileen, I wouldn't have minded," said John, looking at me, the light from outside lighting half of his face. "You're like a little sister to me. I care about you too much to not want to protect you."

So, I thought. That's what I was to him. A little sister, even after the night after the club a week ago. Just a little sister. It hurt me, bad, to know that he didn't love me like I did. "But John, I didn't know that," I said.

"What?" said John, a little louder than usual. "You didn't know that? Even after I took that bloody bullet for you?" He stood up in front of me. I was expecting an angry, glaring face, but what I saw was a face that was laughing and broke into a smile.

"What's wrong?" I asked feebly.

"You didn't know?" said a still hysterically laughing John. "Woman, you truly are oblivious!" He broke down in giggles.

I was still taken by surprise. "I'm not..." I said quietly and shyly.

"Eileen," said John, resting his hands on my shoulders. "If I didn't care for you, would I be doing all that I am doing right now? I thought that you would trust me enough to tell me that you knew who was after you! And by God, I will punch his lights out if he goes anywhere near you! You're very important to me, Eileen."

I managed a smile. "John, you are a riot, you know that?"

John grinned. "I know!" he said. "Come on, let's join the living out there, I'm sure they're wondering what we're up to."

"I agree," I said. John and I walked out of the room together. When we got out, we saw Brian standing in the middle of the main room, looking impatient and checking his watch.

"About time you came out," he said, striding over to John. He looked us over suspiciously. "What were you two doing in there?"

"Just talking," said John. "I remembered what you said about 'no funny business' Eppy!"

Brian rolled his eyes. "Right," he said. He switched to businesslike again, and gestured for Paul to step away from a shivering Jane, who was still soaking wet from when we got caught out in the rain. I felt suddenly cold with a jolt, and I remembered that I was stuck out in the rain with her. I shuddered and started shivering too.

"You okay, Eileen?" asked John.

"Cold," I said. "Got caught in the rain."

John nodded and directed his attention to Brian again.

"John, Paul," said Brian. "You remember that title song you were supposed to be writing for the picture?"

"You mean 'A Hard Day's Night'?" said Paul. "Yeah, we finished it a few days ago. We've got it down."

"Well good," said Brian. "Because, since we've been delayed so many times for recording it," he glanced over at me, and I knew what he meant, "you boys are going over to the studio today."

"Finally," sighed John. "It was beginning to feel like years."

"When are we leaving?" asked Paul.

"As soon as you four get ready," said Brian.

"Four?" asked John. "What about the girls?"

"I'm sure the girls can fend for themselves here," said Brian.

"But what if that shooter comes for Eileen while we're gone?" asked John defensively. "Isn't that the reason that she's with us in the first place?"

"I agree," said Ringo. "I think she should at least come, for safety reasons."

Brian thought it over in his head, glancing from me to John to Gwen, Pattie, and Jane. He looked John in the eye and said, "Okay, Lennon, you win, but please don't let her distract you."

"I won't Eppy, I've got it all under control!" said John proudly. Brian sighed and shook his head. He obviously wasn't fond of any girl who hung around any of the boys.

"Come on, guys," said Brian. "There's a car waiting out back. Quietly now, we don't want to get spotted by a stray girl."

"Oh boy," I said. "That'd be fun."

"She got into a run-in with some jealous fangirls today because they recognized her from the magazine interview pictures," explained George.

"Were you there?" asked Brian.

"No, she told us," said George.

"Do you mean to tell me that you four let her walk out alone, and John was giving me a fuss about leaving her in the hotel room when she could be within the company of three other girls?" spat out Brian, annoyed.

"Oh, come on, Eppy, give it a rest!" said John.

"But she was alone!"shouted Brian, pulling at his hair.

"No she wasn't," said Paul suddenly. "Jane was with 'er."

Brian didn't say anything, but I wouldn't have noticed it if he did. I was surprised that Paul stuck up for me that way. I heard a groaning sound that snapped me to attention.

I saw Pattie leaning over a trash can with George holding her hair back. Pattie was very pale and sickly-looking with dark patches under her eyes. She gulped and her head disappeared into the trash can, accompanied by a horrible retching sound.

"It's okay, Pat," said George.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"She's been sick all morning," said George. "I thought she was getting better, but she just got worse." Pattie gasped and threw up again.

"She's also eating a lot." I saw from the look George was giving me that he was thinking the same thing I was-Pattie could be pregnant.

"Good luck," I mouthed at Pattie as George and I were ushered out the door by Brian.

"D'ya think she is?" asked George quietly as we snuck around the back lot of the hotel.

"I don't know," I said. "She doesn't look any bigger. Maybe it's a false alarm."

"You can never be sure, I think," said George. "Is that possible?"

"For a girl to have a false alarm?" I asked. "Yeah, it can happen. Sometimes it means that they don't have the right nutrients in them to have a baby, or their ovulation is not right on key. Other times it means that the woman can't have babies at all."

"I hope Pat can," said George. "I love her a lot, and I am really thinking about marrying her. I just wasn't planning on it so soon. If she is pregnant, that means I'll have to propose as soon as possible."

"Well, we don't know anything yet," I said. "She needs to go to a doctor and see if she really is or not." George nodded and signaled the end of the conversation. I strode up to John.

"Thanks for making Brian let me come," I said to him.

"Hey, no problem, love," said John. "Is this yer first time in a recording studio?"

"Yes," I said. "What kinds of stuff do you do there?"

John laughed. "Well, we record, of course!" he said, leaving me feeling pretty stupid.

"No, I mean how do you record," I said, flustered.

"Well, we start and stop a lot," said John. "We do lots of takes...and we dodge Ringo's drumsticks when he gets angry."

"Heard that!" said Ringo from up ahead.

"Shaddup!" shouted John. We managed to sneak around the hotel without anyone seeing us, and we were at the car in no time at all. We had to squeeze in together since there was six of us in one little car. Brian was driving with Paul in the front next to him. I think it was Ringo that said for him to go up front because Paul and I weren't talking. I was squished in the middle between John and Ringo, and George was between Ringo and the car door.

"Are we all set?" said Brian.

"Yes, sir!" said John, saluting him like he usually did. It got a laugh from us in the back. Paul tried not to laugh because Brian was right next to him, but I saw him smirk.

"Cheeky," I heard Brian mutter before he started the car up. As we started, I found I was in an uncomfortable spot, and moved around a little. I hit my scratched arm on the back of the seat and cried out as the pain got to me. I sent a silent curse to whoever that long-nailed girl was.

"You okay, Eileen?" asked Ringo.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I said, rubbing my arm.

John saw my arm, and his eyes got wide with worry. "No, you're not fine!" he said. He snatched up my arm and saw the bloody handkerchief. "Eileen, did one of those girls do that to you?"

I nodded.

"Geez, they must really like you, John," said George.

"George, it's not funny!" said John. "Eileen, I'm so sorry that I let you go off by yerself, that was totally irresponsible on my part."

"It's not your fault, John," I said, wincing in pain as I felt the wound throb sharply.

"But it was stupid," said John. "For all I know, one of those girls could've been the shooter."

"But I'm still alive," I said.

"Yeah, John, relax a little," said Ringo. "Nothing terrible happened, and now you know what not to do next time."

Just from looking up front, I could tell that Paul wanted badly to say something, but he kept his mouth shut because we still weren't talking. I was actually hoping he'd forget and let a word or two slip out to me. I wanted him to talk to me. I didn't even know why I told him we should not talk, anyway. Not speaking to Paul for a week was too much to handle. I shrugged it off, though. No need to dwell on it. I could try and talk to him soon.

"Hold on," said John, not hearing Ringo at all. "There are some bandages in the first-aid kit..." He got the first-aid kit from the floor of the car and dug around till he found a clean bandage. "Here," he said, taking my arm. His touch sent butterflies all through me. "I'll put this on you."

I didn't protest as he took Jane's handkerchief off and revealed my scratches. He winced a little at them, and I did too. I didn't have a lot of time to look at my arm before, but I saw now three long lacerations on the bottom of my forearm. They were bleeding slowly now, but the area around them was bruised.

"God, Eileen," muttered John as he wrapped the new bandage around my arm.

"They'll heal," I said. "My bullet wound healed quick." John didn't seem to hear me. A few minutes later, Brian stopped the car at the studio. We all clambered out, but I took special care so I couldn't bump my arm again. I didn't want John to have a fit.

"So, Eileen," said John. "Ready to meet the other George?"

"Other George?" I asked, confused.

"George Martin," said George. "Our producer."

"He's the one that helps record our songs and puts 'em out," said Ringo. He sounded a little bitter.

"He thinks George Martin didn't like him very much at first," explained John.

"Why?" I asked. How could anyone not like Ringo?

"Not on a personal level," said George. "You see, when he first joined the band, or, should I say, when we first let him in the band for recording, Mr. Martin wasn't so sure about his drumming skills, so he hired another drummer to do the session with us instead of Ringo."

"That guy only did two songs with us, though," said John. "Since then, it's been Ringo! And he thinks you're just fine, son!" added on John to Ringo. Ringo replied with a melancholy smile.

"I honestly thought it'd be me that Mr. Martin wouldn't like," said George. "I'm the one that said I didn't like his tie." John, Paul, and Ringo laughed. I chuckled a little, but I still thought it'd have been funnier if I were there.
We walked inside the studio and into a soundroom. It was a large, empty room, except for a soundboard and some instruments in it. "Hello!" said Paul.

"Hey, boys!" a voice greeted. Out walked a man that looked around Brian's age, but was taller and thinner than him. He had dark hair and glasses. "You finally here for the session?"

"Yes, we are," said John. "'bout time, too."

"Hey, Mr. Martin, yer tie's lookin' nice," said George, leaning back on an amplifier.

"Funny, Mr. Harrison," said the man, who must've been George Martin.

"They can't call each other by their first names," said John. "They find it awkward." I giggled.

"Hey, Georgie M.!" called John. "We've got someone for you to meet."

George Martin looked towards me. "Ah, yes, Miss Carter, I've read the interview," he said. He walked over to me.

"It's nice meet you, sir," I said.

"Pleasure's all mine," said George Martin. He got businesslike again. "Okay, boys we've got a lot to do for all of this! Let's get to!" They all rushed for their instruments and got ready.

"Alright," said John. "We're set!" With that, the session started. The song they played went a little like this:

"It's been a hard day's night
and I've been working like a dog.
It's been a hard day's night
I should be sleeping like a log.
But when I get home to you, I find the things that you do
will make me feel alright.
You know I work all day
to get you money to buy you things.
And it's worth it just to hear you say
you're gonna get me everything.
So why on earth should I moan? Cause when I get you alone,
you know I feel alright.
When I'm home, everything seems to be right,
When I'm home, I feel you holding me tight!
Tight! Yeah!"

Those were the basic lyrics, all that I could remember at the moment. It was a clever, upbeat little piece. It was actually done quicker than I thought it would be. Before long, we were walking out of the studio with a record.

"So," said John. "What'd you think?"

I said nothing because something caught my eye. Something worse than the shooter and a hoard of violent fangirls put together. My brother Charlie holding hands with Jerri Dunn.