Author's Note: Hey, everyone! Thank you for the reviews! I love you! Enjoy reading this chapter, okay? Okay.

George's POV

I got a phone call from Paul the next morning when I was about to go out of the house. He told me he wasn't going to school today, because he was sick. He looked perfectly fine and healthy yesterday. But he got ill when he went to bed. Great. Now I have to go to school with Eleanor sitting with me. I just didn't like her, that's all. I couldn't understand why Paul likes her. She's not even that pretty!

I remained friendly when I sat beside her. She asked me where Paul was, and I told her he was sick. She started babbling about Paul and his brother, Mike. She wasn't a chatterbox, but I just didn't like talking about my best friend when he's absent.

"It's just you and me, then, George," she said.

"Yup." I said, nodding my head.

"Maybe we should pay him a visit?" she suggested.

"No, that's very unnecessary." I said. "He's fine, really—even though he's sick. He's all right."

She didn't say anything during the rest of the ride to school—and I was very glad about it. Just hearing her voice annoyed me. Even though she was humming softly to my favorite song by Carl Perkins: Everybody's Trying To Be My Baby.

I was really glad when I came to my first class. I wouldn't be seeing her during school—but I would see her again during the bus ride. Maybe if I sit in the top deck, she wouldn't see or find me. Yes, this is a brilliant idea.

Eleanor's POV

I didn't eat lunch alone, thank God! I ate with Ramona on a table by the window. It was a lovely day…I just wanted to go outside and play.

"Ramona, you should meet my two boy friends," I said.

"You have two boyfriends?" she asked me with an eyebrow raised.

I laughed. "No, not my lovers! Gosh, no! My two friends who are boys." I said.

"Oh…" she said, nodding her head. "Are they handsome? Because if they are, I would like to date one of them."

"But you're fourteen years old."

"How old are they?"

"Paul turned fifteen last month, and George is…around fourteen, I guess."

"And so?"

"You're…you're too young to date a bloke."

She laughed in disbelief. "Did your parents tell you that?" she asked me, while still laughing.

I slowly nodded my head.

"Look, love," she said, stopped laughing. "It doesn't matter how old or young you are when you're in love. Numbers don't matter. Understand?"

I nodded my head.

"Good. Now, are they handsome? What are their names? Tell me their full names. Do tell!" she said with a huge grin plastered on her face, and interest in her voice.

"Their names are Paul McCartney and George Harrison," I began. "George is all right, but Paul…Paul is…well, he's handsome." I just admitted it.

"Ooo!" she said with a high-pitched voice and interest. "So, do you fancy this McCartney bloke?"

"What do you mean by 'fancy'?" I asked her while munching my sandwich.

She chuckled heartily. "Are you in love with the McCartney bloke?" she asked me.

I felt my cheeks turning red. "Oh! no, no, no. Absolutely not. I am not in love with Paul. I just…like him, that's all." I said. "He's a really nice lad—and a polite one, too! He has a brother, named Mike."

"Oh, I know his brother," she said. "My younger sister fancies him, but doesn't have the courage to tell him. He's a nice fellow."

I nodded my head in agreement. "He sure is! Oh, tell your sister to tell him that she loves him! She won't regret it, I swear. He's a really nice bloke, so he won't let her down." I said.

She smiled at me. "I'll think about it." She said.

"I'll give you a box of chocolates if you tell her to do it," I said with a friendly grin.

"Deal!" She agreed immediately.

I laughed.

We were talking as if we'd been best friends since birth. It was surprising in a good way. I like Ramona very much. She had a free spirit—and I love it very much. I admire her, and look up to her as if she's the older sister I've never had. Even though she's a few months older than me.

Ramona went home with her brother again. I didn't see George at the bus stop or in the bus. I wonder where could he be. Maybe he went home with his parents or walked there. That's rather impossible for him to walk home. Where was he?

The bus stopped at George's stop, and then I heard footsteps from above. I looked back, and I saw George coming down. He saw me, and didn't smile at me or greet me. I waved at him, but he ignored me as if I wasn't there. As if he was only looking at an empty seat. I watched him went out of the bus from the window. That was rude of him to do such thing! Did I do something wrong? No, I didn't, as I recalled. Then why was he ignoring me as if I didn't exist? What a strange kid!