Author's Note: Thanks for the previous reviews, everyone :) You're the best! Oh, and a little promotion. You should read Yes It Is: The Story of My Life by my dear friend, Tomorrow May Never Know.

Eleanor's POV

"I swear to God, Ramona, I can't find anything good to wear for tonight!" I cried as I searched through my wardrobe. I had made my bedroom such a mess, but I didn't care. I needed to have a really nice gown to wear for tonight.

"Why can't you just buy a gown, for Christ's sake?" Ramona asked.

"I don't have money to buy one, Mona," she said. "And I don't want to ask my mother for one."

"Why don't you just use that really nice white dress, huh?" Ramona suggested. "You look really pretty in it."

"Do I?" I asked her, looking up from all of the clothes on the floor.

"Yes, you do," she said. "Why don't you go and try it?"

I searched through the big pile of clothes, and found the white dress with a very puffy skirt. Now how did I use this last year? I remembered of using that dress for my dad's office event a few months ago, and I remembered I used gloves. I opened my cabinet, and grabbed my gloves. I changed my clothes in front of Ramona, and wore the dress. I buttoned up the front button, and stood straight in front of Ramona. She looked up from the magazine she was wearing, and her jaws dropped. I fixed the skirt, and then looked at her. I turned around slowly with a smile.

"How do I look?" I asked.

"You…look…absolutely gorgeous, Eleanor," she said with a grin. "You know what, love? You are blossoming right now. You were pretty before, but now…you're beautiful. You will be the belle of the ball tonight! And everyone will turn to see this beautiful lady dancing around with the luckiest bloke in the dance, and that is Paul McCartney."

That was the sweetest compliment I've ever heard from Ramona. I could grin at her with a little blush. "Thank you, Ramona," I thanked her. "You're the best friend I've ever had! And we shall be forever best friends!"

"Of course, I am," she said cheekily. "Where would you be without me?"

"Nowhere."

My body temperature went high after I cleaned the mess in my room. I looked at the mirror, and saw my face was very pale. Mother suddenly came in to the room, and asked me what was going on. She saw my pale face on the mirror.

"Can you please check my body temperature?" I asked weakly.

She placed the back of her hand on my forehead, and then looked at me with a worried look. "I'm afraid, you have fever, dear," she said. "You must rest until you feel well."

"But I am feeling well!" I insisted—she was right, though.

"You? Feeling well? Look at you! You look very ill! You should stay at home, and you are not going to the formal dance, Eleanor." She said sternly. "Now, go on, go to bed! I'll be back bringing you porridge and medicine."

I crawled off to bed, and covered myself with the warm blanket as my mother walked out of the room. I reached for the telephone, and pressed Paul's number.

"Hello?" I heard Mr. McCartney's voice on the telephone.

"Hello, Mr. McCartney," I greeted him, "is Paul home?"

"Yes, he is, Eleanor," he said. "Excuse me for one moment."

I waited for a few seconds, and then I heard Paul's voice.

"Paul, I can't go to the dance, I'm sorry," I said, with my eyes closed.

"Why?" he asked kindly.

"I'm sick, Paul. Oh, I'm so sorry!"

"It's all right, love. Get well soon for me, will you?"

"I will, Paul. Goodbye."

"Goodbye."

My mother came back bringing a silver tray with my medicine and a bowl of porridge on top. She was such a kind mother. That's why I love her so.

"Here you are, dear," she said, placing the tray on my lap. "With whom were you talking to?"

"Paul."

"I see."

"For how long am I going to be ill?"

"At least for five days, and you'll be right as rain again." She said with a warm smile. "Now, go on, eat your porridge."

The porridge tasted very bitter in my mouth, and I shook my head because of the horrible taste.

"I can't eat it!" I said.

"Just have three spoons, at least! You can't drink your medicine with an empty stomach!"

I moaned, and slowly ate the porridge to please my mother—even though I only ate three spoons of porridge. I drank my medicine afterwards, and my mother left me so I could nap.

Paul's POV

I was quite broken-hearted when Eleanor told me she couldn't come to the dance. But the broken-heart faded when she told me she was ill. Poor girl. I told her to recover soon, and then said our goodbyes. Well, it was all right, I suppose. I didn't have to go to the silly dance. I could stay at home, and watch television with dad.

"Why aren't you dressed, Paul?" dad asked during dinner.

"I'm not going," I said.

"Why?"

"Because Eleanor's ill. It's all right. I can stay home, and let you rest. Besides, you deserve one, dad."

"Did you tell her to get well soon?"

"Of course, I did, dad."

"You should visit her tomorrow."

"Yes, I will, dad."

After dinner, dad and I watched television in the living room. Mike went to the dance on his own, riding the bus. It's been quite a long time since I had a day with only my father. I couldn't remember the last time I spent the rest of the day with him. It was fun, I tell you.

"Paul, what do you think of Eleanor?" dad suddenly asked me, and that question almost gave me a heart attack.

"Uh, she's a really nice girl," I said, "very amusing, polite, proper, smart, and pretty even though she still wears her spectacles occasionally."

"Is that it?" he asked.

I hesitated. "No."

"Tell me, then."

"You won't understand."

"You can always try, Paul."

I looked at him, and then sighed. "Dad, Eleanor is not like the girls at her school—or perhaps, all the girls in this world. She's very…err…I don't know how to say this. She's one of a kind, dad. Like I said, she reminds me a lot of mum. But not her features, but her personality, and her shiny black hair." I said with a smile. "And she knows how to make me smile…even when she's not around. She's…she's incredible, dad. And…I love her."

Dad smiled at me. "You know…I told her that she reminds you of Mary when you were in Hamburg." He said. "She seemed very happy to know that."

I smiled at him back. "I'm glad you told her."

"Paul, if you love her, why don't you ask her to be your lover?" he asked. "You should go and get her before anyone can."

"Dad, I can't…" I said, shaking my head. "I can't tell her."

"Why not?"

"Because…I'm a coward." I sighed. "I always feel nervous when I'm around her, and…when I'm about to tell her how I feel towards her. Pardon my verbal abuse, dad, but emotions can just go to hell."

He laughed, and patted my back. "Just tell her when you're ready, okay, son?" he said, and I nodded my head.

Author's Note: Thanks for reading, and don't forget to review this chapter! Have a wonderful day, my beloved readers! ^_^