"You're kicking me out?" Pete echoed, Pheobe latched onto his arm. "What the fuck, mate?" I stared at John, who was standing across from him with his arms crossed, eyebrows furrowed angrily. Paul, Eric, Colin, and a new boy that had started hanging around with us, Stuart Sutcliffe, as well as Ivan stood behind John.

John snorted. "That bird of yours. Pheobe, yeah?" Her head shot up, hair bouncing along with it. "She's a burden. She's pulling you down, we all need you to carry your fucking weight, and she's not helping." Paul then glanced at John as if he didn't know that was what he was going to say. "Break up with her, or you're out of the band."

Pete looked at John, then at Pheobe, then me, before his lip curled in contempt. "So you kick me out, yet she-" he pointed at me. "Can follow you around everywhere, and nobody does anything?" I gazed worriedly at him.

"Don't be a git. Roxanne's not a twat like your bird here. If you want to stay in the band, get rid of her." Pete opened his mouth to protest before John cut him off. "This is my band, these are my fucking rules." I wrung my hands and stepped closer to Paul, feeling uneasy from Pheobe's hard stare, boring into me.

Shotton glared at the small group of us, then snagged Pheobe's arm. "Come 'ead, P." He snarled then stomped off from outside Eric Griffith's home, which we then entered, except for me, as I felt terribly guilty about myself.

"Aren't you coming in?" Paul asked, turning around and staring at me.

I shook my head slowly, shoving my hands in my pockets. "I... I think I should maybe leave."

He shook his head, trying to lead me through the door. "Rubbish! Pete was just angry."

Pulling my hand out of his grip, I began walking away. "I don't care. I'm going home." I didn't want to make people cross with me or John because I was hanging around. Besides, I already saw him plenty enough, and could go visit Paul at any time. I'd start coming again, maybe, when I was closer with Eric, Ivan, Len, and Colin.

Paul gazed at me worriedly. "Now we need someone else for washboard," John said from inside, running his hands through his hair.

"We shouldn't have kicked him out," Eric replied.

"His girlfriend was a cunt and we all know it!" John snapped defensively, and I heard Colin sigh. I continued walking off, heading back home on foot.

Elaine was out when I had returned home, presumably working. My room was untidy in the meantime, so I cleaned it, as well as a good chunk of the rest of the house before there was a loud knocking on the front door.

I opened to Paul, who was standing on the doorstep, squirming as if he had somewhere to go in a hurry. "Paul?" There was a boy behind him I'd never seen before.

"Yes- Hi- John's a trifle angry right now, since we haven't many members left, and I thought I might as well introduce him to Stu here." He motioned behind him at the boy, who was clad in leather like the rest of them, had his dark hair in a slight quiff, and dark sunglasses on. Stu lifted up a guitar case and grinned at me. I leant against the doorway, eyeing him. "So, I thought, that if you came along, John would be less angry, since he seems to be rather happier when you're around."

Grinning, my hand brushed absentmindedly along my sweater. "Is that so?" I straightened up. "I'll come, then."

We came back to Eric Griffith's house, where John and the others had been hanging around for most of the day. I could hear John pacing angrily from the front entrance.

"We've got no fucking washboard-" He stomped back and forth as Colin, Eric, and Len stood around silently. "Nothing!"

Len slammed a table with his hand. "John!" He exclaimed. "Get over yourself already and learn how to realize you were wrong and shouldn't have kicked Shotton out!" John stopped, turning around to stare down Len, before picking up Pete's washboard.

"My band. My fucking rules." He swung the board over his shoulder, then hit Len over the head with it, breaking it in the process. I gasped as Paul ran in and restrained John, and I rushed to Len, helping him back up as Stu still stood in the hallway, unsure of what to do.

"What the hell, John?" Colin shouted. Len held his head, groaning.

He grasped onto my arms as he struggled up. "...Roxanne?" I heard John say behind me. I turned to glare at him. "I thought you left," he said softly.

Frowning as Len got to his feet, I scrunched my nose up at John. "Why would you do that?" I asked, barely willing to give him a chance.

"He- Len said-" John was clenching his fists, and I brushed him off.

"I thought you were a good person." I drawled. "Apparently not." Glancing at Len, I patted his shoulder. "Are you okay to stand yourself?" He nodded, and I took one more peek at John before storming out.

"I didn't mean for you to see me like this," I barely heard him say as I left.

"John's here to see you!" Elaine called from downstairs. I got off my bed and opened my bedroom door so he could hear me.

"Tell him I don't care." I called back.

But of course, a few minutes later, my door opened and John stepped in, brushing his hair back. "Hello," he greeted me. I glared up at him, feeling betrayed as he had attacked Len for no reason. I hoped he was alright... "Look, I'm sorry, Roxanne. The Quarrymen get me fed up sometimes." I snorted, crossing my arms. "I.. I don't think when I'm mad."

"Obviously." I retorted, looking away from him.

"Why are you so pissy about this?" He asked, closing the door. "I didn't hit you over the head." My bed creaked as he sat beside me.

I shook my head angrily. How full of himself was he? The self-righteous prick thought he hadn't done anything wrong. He kicked Pete out, hurt Len, and showed me he was truly terrible, and his niceness was just a show put on for me. He was going to lure me in, then be awful once I was trapped.

"Roxanne?" He reached out and grasped my shoulder. I pulled my arm away.

"Don't call me that," I hissed. I was Heather. Nothing else. That was my name, and I was tired of not hearing it. "And don't touch me."

John sighed slowly. "Please, R- just look at me." I felt his fingers curl around my chin and turn my head towards his, and my face flushed. I didn't realize how much I really was attracted to him until now. I couldn't think that way, though. I didn't want to. "I'm sorry, okay?" He stared at me before his eyes flicked between me and my lips. Oh, God. I'd read about this. "I'm sorry, Roxanne, Heather, whatever you want to be called." He repeated.

"Stop already, John." I turned back to look out my window, although his voice echoed in my head. "Give it a rest."

I peered back at him to see his lips pressed together crossly. "Fine. Just let me do this." I froze as he pressed his lips against mine softly. They were firm, but welcoming and though I hated to admit this at the time, I embraced him deeply. A few seconds passed before he pulled away. "I'll see you around." He got up, leaving my room.

My fingers touched my lips as I sat cross-legged on my bed, staring absently at the door. John had just kissed me. I cleared my throat, hands shaky as I pushed some hair out of my eyes. It was breathtaking, ignoring how short it was. His lips were so warm. I'd never been kissed by a boy before. I could feel my heartbeat thumping in my chest, and wondered if John felt the same.

The next few days were slightly awkward around each other, though John seemed to be marginally touchy with me, as I found the odd arm around my waist or shoulders, or hand in my hair, which I wasn't exactly a fan of.

Elaine had been speaking to Mimi about my schooling, and I had been talking about it to Paul, who said that going to Quarry Bank was my best bet, along with the fact that we could be together more. I didn't want to go to any rubbish schools, anyways.

Stu, or Stuart Sutcliffe had joined the band as the new bass guitar player, although he wasn't the greatest at it, as Len had left the band soon after the altercation with the washboard. I didn't blame him.

The term was to begin in just over a week, and I was terribly nervous. I had been enrolled in Quarry Bank, fortunately to the aid of Paul and Uncle Jim. We had even coordinated some of our classes.

I was both excited and scared for this new school in a new city. How different would the teaching be from Bristol?

Me being me, I was exceptionally nervous that I wouldn't do well in school here. And that I wouldn't make any friends. It was all the much too stressful. My frustrations with John didn't help much, either.

Thinking back to what Pheobe had asked me nearly a month ago, 'Are you hanging around for a few good shags before you find somebody else?' I then wondered if that was John's motive. If so, he was a bastard. He knew I was barely fifteen.

Then again, I thought, staring at my copy of 'The Last of the Wine' sitting on one of my bookshelves. Could he really be all that bad?

John had mentioned a book store not too far from here, on Southdale Road. It was called J & M Books, which sounded friendly enough. I decided to drop by, to pick out a few more books with some pocket money I had been given by Uncle Jim.

A bell chimed as I slowly stepped in, finding it nearly empty, except for the clerk and one girl in the corner, as well as a boy with his dark hair in a quiff. He had high cheekbones, a thin face, and bushy eyebrows. I had seen him from somewhere, but it wasn't the same feeling that I had gotten from Paul. The boy then looked up and stared back at me before his eyes widened and he seemed suddenly flustered, turning away, his cheeks rather red.

I shrugged, strolling away to lose myself in the shelves upon shelves of books lining the store.

There was just too many that I hadn't seen around Bristol's many bookstores, even a section with American books. I didn't have nearly enough to buy all the great things in this store. I turned, and my eyes fell on a novel that I had been seeking out for years.

Lord of the Flies, the dystopian epic by William Golding. I supposed I was too excited by seeing it, and gasped loudly. I spotted the same boy from before lean over from the next aisle, staring at me. I grinned sheepishly at him and he smirked in return, raising an eyebrow before returning to the other aisle.

I gazed back at the book, which I now noticed was trembling in my hands. Quite embarrassing, if you were to ask me. I was just so excited by the fact that I was holding Lord of the Flies in my hands, a book that Grandmother banned me from reading or buying, for some rubbish reason of 'it filling my mind with evil'. My fingers dragged along Anthony Gross' wonderful cover illustrations. It had gone out of print two years ago, before I could sneak a copy into the house. I hugged it to my chest, walking out of the aisles before I was stopped by the boy.

He smiled at me shyly, pointing at my book. "Is- is that Lord of the Flies?" I nodded, holding it up. "Great book. Hear it from me, I bought a copy while they were still in print."

"Really?" I gasped, staring at him. "I wouldn't have been able to myself, even if I tried!" He grinned, seeming rather proud of himself.

The boy laughed, leaning against a shelf as if he was trying to look casual, though he seemed quite stiff while doing it. "Gear. I'm George, by the way." He held out his hand. I glanced down at it before shaking it heartily, smiling at him.

"...Heather."

He had followed me to the till, where I paid for the book quite ecstatically. George then followed me outside as I began walking off. "Oh, well. It was nice meeting you, Heather." He said to me, flustered. "Maybe I'll... See you around?"

I nodded. "Of course. See you around." I called over my shoulder, giving George a small wave.

Quietly sitting beside John in Mimi's parlour while she and Elaine chatted, he ran his hands through my hair. Pressing my lips together, I turned to John, feeling a trifle concerned. "...John?" I said under my breath, putting Lord of the Flies down. "Are you okay?"

He sighed softly, staring at me with half-open eyelids. "Mmm.. Yeah." I shifted uncomfortably, glancing back at Mimi and Elaine self-consciously as he wrapped an arm around my waist. I hadn't any idea why he was suddenly being so platonic with me. One simple kiss couldn't change that. I wondered if he even remembered.

Meanwhile, Elaine and Mimi kept talking about work and such. I lifted my book again, continuing on.

"Piggy appeared again, sat on the rocky ledge, and watched Ralph's green and white body enviously.
'You can't half swim.'
'Piggy.'
Piggy took off his shoes and socks, ranged them carefully on the ledge, and tested the water with one toe.
'It's hot!'
'What did you expect?'
'I didn't expect nothing. My auntie-'
'Sucks to your auntie!'"

I placed my book down again as John's hand reached around my shoulder. I hated this feeling, I truly did. I didn't want to cherish his touch, I didn't want to see his face and be happy, I didn't want to crave that same feeling of his lips on my own. I wanted to despise John. I wanted to hate everyone so I could be alone and be myself, alone.

I found solitude to be blissful. I wanted to live alone, my own space, but I really couldn't do that when I wanted John in such a platonic way. I had never felt that way about anyone before.

And honestly, it made me sick to my stomach. Did he even feel the same way about me?

My mind swirled with my personal doubts and paranoia as I began to feel John's breath on my neck. "What's that you're reading?" I jumped a little, turning back around to him.

"L-L-Lord of the Flies." I stuttered, my eyes subconsciously flicking around his face. John grinned and made a small laughing noise. Dear Lord, I wouldn't be able to not stare at him when he gave me looks like that. Thankfully, burying feelings down was something I was good at. Although I didn't know exactly why I didn't want to get into something with John. It must be leftover 'conditioning' thanks to Grandmother.

John's arm hugged me closer to him, and I felt a jolt in my stomach. Maybe this wouldn't be as easy to hide. "Gear." He said. "Do you want to go upstairs or something? It's a fucking bore down here." He whispered into my ear.

I nodded quickly and we got up, climbing the stairs without another word. He swore a lot, in fact, like a sailor. That was a flaw. I was trying to list off any to give myself reasons not to like him, although they were all mostly backfiring on me. The fact that he cussed didn't really effect me either, as my cleanliness of language had declined since I had left the county limits of Bristol.

He closed the door behind him. I still lugged my copy of Lord of the Flies, hugging it tightly to my chest. "Good book, is it?" I glanced down at it, then gave him a shy nod. I'm not sure why I was suddenly so nervous around him. "Huh. Well, I wanted to practice, and Mimi hates me using the guitar."

"I don't think she exactly hates it-" I tried correcting him.

"Trust me. She does." His confidence in everything he said was completely arrogant, but it probably was a comfort thing for him, in a sick sort of way.

I rubbed my forearms as he pulled his guitar out of its case, sitting on a chair as I dropped onto his bed, turning back to my book. I heard strums for a few minutes before he spoke again. "We barely know anything about each other, still." My stomach fluttered.

"I guess." I murmured, mentally saving my page.

"So, what's your favourite... Musician?"

I grinned, brushing my hair back. "Oh, well, I used to really like Buddy Holly- not that I don't anymore, but Elaine introduced me to Elvis Presley, who's absolutely brilliant!" I gushed. John laughed, plucking a guitar string.

"Okay, your turn."

My stomach churned. Would I rather ask him something sinfully personal, or another generic, cheesy question? I decided to go with my gut and take a chance.

"Why did you kiss me?" I asked. It wasn't exactly a good question, although I needed to know. Was a quick shag all John wanted out of me? Or was there something more?

He laughed again, nervously this time as he ran a hand through his hair. "I..."