Days in the Life

Chapter Four

We all sat down to dinner at five o’clock sharp and had finished the meal within half an hour (except for Neil, that is; halfway through dinner, the limo returned from the Astor Towers with the Beatles’ suitcases for the night, so he had to go help unload all the baggage and bring it into the house); the guys ate like they hadn’t been fed in days! They finished off all the food that my mother had cooked for them, and polished off the entire plate of cookies afterwards. I had barely eaten since I was so excited that the Beatles were visiting again that I barely felt hungry... and hot weather tends to make me lose my appetite anyway. Besides, it was much more fun watching Claire sit at the dining room table in absolute shocked silence, observing every little movement that her beloved John made during the meal.

I kind of felt sorry for Claire at that point; the poor kid had almost no chance at getting as close to her favorite Beatle as I had. John, first off, was married and had a kid; I was surprised that that fact hadn’t been a turn-off for Claire, since I knew I’d be very, very upset if Paul was married! Cheryl had cried buckets the day she heard that Ringo got married to Maureen Cox last year; for ten minutes straight she was yelling and screaming something about “that stupid little eighteen-year-old kid married him! What was he thinking?” And Anna practically went into seclusion for three days when the news that George and his girlfriend Pattie Boyd had married just this past January. And Paul and that darn Jane Asher... if anyone made any mention of her, I’d get a sour look on my face! Cheryl would always tease me about that either by singing “Paul and Jane, sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g” or getting a dead serious look on her face and saying, “Oh my god, Laurie, you won’t believe what I heard on the news today! You’d better sit down for this! Paul and Jane got married yesterday!” At that point I was usually ready to slap her, unless she was doing a really good acting job that day and managed to fool me for a few minutes.

As my mother stood up to clear away the dinner dishes, she looked at me and said, “Laurie, why don’t you take your guests out to the yard; maybe they’d like some fresh air.”

I looked over at the group; John nodded vigorously at the suggestion and tossed his linen napkin onto the tabletop, ready to get up and head on outside. The other followed suit as I said, “Okay, Mom,” and rose from my chair. Claire put down her napkin and tagged right along after us, probably praying that my mother wouldn’t tell her to stay behind and help her clear the dishes off of the table or something else like that; even if my mother did ask her to do that, I’m sure she would’ve thrown a fit about it and got out of doing it anyway. That kid was becoming much more stubborn in her old age, I thought with a smile as I opened the back door in the kitchen.

“Okay, guys,” I said as everyone headed onto the creaky old wooden porch, “just make sure you aren’t yelling and screaming or anything so our nosy neighbors won’t know you’re here.”

“It’s not snowing out; we can’t very well have a snowball fight like last time, Laurie,” George said. “It’s a little bit warmer out, you see...”

“They had a snowball fight last time?” Claire said incredulously, putting her hands on her hips; she appeared to be quite distressed by her discovery. “Oh!”

“Yes,” I replied as the Beatles ran down the stairs into the late-day sunshine. “And if you hadn’t been such a sour-puss last time, you would’ve been able to see it... so ha-ha...”

“God, Laurie... nothing like trying to rub it in,” she muttered, following the lads into the yard. “It’s not going to work, though... so ha-ha on you!”

I rolled my eyes, joining the rest of the group in the yard. The weather hadn’t cooled off very much from earlier that day, though it was definitely starting to get better; as long as the sun wasn’t directly beating down on you, you could tolerate being outside in the heat. A bit of a breeze had kicked up as well, which also lended relief to our heat-weary bodies; the huge leaves on the trees rustled and rushed like an ocean tide crashing up against some rocks on the shore as the wind tossed them around. That was probably my favorite time of day during the summer, that hour or so right before the mosquitoes came out on their nightly attack missions, when the sun turned everything it touched to shining golden-orange and the entire world slowed down for the night.

“Does anyone want to see our garden?” Claire asked out of the blue. “It’s really pretty; Mom and I worked on it all summer long.”

Now that I had to agree with; that had been Claire’s and my mother’s weekend project since May. They’d really outdone themselves this year, putting together a whole little garden sanctuary opposite the gazebo at the edge of our property near the creek, assembling a trellace with vines growing on it, large gray granite vases with all sorts of flowers growing in them, and a stone bench overlooking the creek. It was only natural that Claire would want to show off her pride and joy to our guests.

Paul squinted in the sunlight, then said, “You lads go on; I need to sit down for a few minutes before we go rushing off to whatever Laurie has planned for us tonight.”

Uh-oh... I hadn’t given much thought to diversions for the evening during dinner like I’d promised them I would! Okay; I had to think fast and come up with something cool for them to do... but first, there was more important business to attend to, namely Paul McCartney as he walked slowly for the gazebo. I just couldn’t let him sit by his little ol’ self in there, now, could I?

I think he pretty much expected me to follow right behind him, because he held the screen door open for me behind him without even turning around to make sure I was there to catch the door as he let it go. He and I sat down together on the wooden bench as Claire showed the other three the garden. Paul turned to face me once he got himself situated; he stared straight at me with a relaxed smile on his face, and I could honest to god feel my pounding heart melting as I faced those incredibly dark round eyes of his. All the memories of that night we’d spent together last January flashed vividly within my mind... the way he’d kissed me... the way he’d told me that he loved me... the way that he looked when he woke up the next morning... My tension slowly wore off.

“So... how the hell are things going with you, Paul?” I asked super-casually, leaning my head against my arm propped upon the back of the bench. “What’s shakin’?”

He shook his head. “Nothin’ but the leaves on the tree, luv,” he said quietly. “Jane and I haven’t been on speaking terms for three days, for starters.”

I sat straight up like I’d been stabbed straight through my back with an icepick upon hearing that! Good morning! I thought. Laurie Donaldson, this is your wake-up call!

“You what?!” I squeaked, not trusting what my ears had heard.

“It’s been three days, like I told you,” he began. “We’ve just sort of had... problems since I moved into me own place this past March. We barely saw each other for a while; it was worse than that time last year when she was touring with that Old Vic theater group... bloody awful experience that was.”

“But what happened?” I said, pressing for more information.

“It was rather silly, actually, the way the whole thing started. We got in an argument over where to go for dinner that night. She wanted to go to some posh place in town while I just didn’t feel like messing about in London that night. We really started screaming at each other; I told her that maybe she should’ve stuck with that theater group and left me the hell alone for another six months. Then she said something really unkind about me mum, and I said something about hers... and then she pretty much told me to go fuck meself before stomping out the door and going home, and I haven’t heard from her since.”

“Oh,” I said, at a loss for words. “I... I can’t picture someone as proper-looking as Jane yelling at you like that.”

“Aye, well... believe me, we can get into some nasty fights,” he said, reaching into his pocket for his pack of Marlboros.

“So... did you two, like, actually, um, break up?” I said in a high voice. Hey, come on! It was the $64 Dollar Question!

“She knew where to bloody find me before we left for America,” he replied bluntly, holding a cigarette between his lips and lighting it with his silver Zippo lighter. With a puff of gray smoke, he continued, “And I wasn’t about to go ringing her house and speaking to her mum on the phone after what I’d said... God only knows if Jane told her all the details of our argument.”

I frowned, then took a deep breath and said, “Am I supposed to take that as a yes or a no?”

“Well, Laurie... I don’t even know,” he managed after a few silent moments. “She hasn’t rung me... but I haven’t rung her either... so where does that leave her and me?”

“I’d say nowhere, if you guys aren’t speaking to each other,” I replied.

Paul shrugged. “Aye, well... maybe we just need more time off from each other,” he muttered, staring at the long plume of gray smoke floating away from the tip of the ciggie.

“Paul, if you take any more time off from her, there’ll be nothing left,” I said honestly. Even though that little evil voice inside of me was saying otherwise, I wasn’t about to say, “Oh, to hell with Jane, Paul--take me instead!” and throw myself at him. I mean, the poor guy obviously had some feelings for the girl--as jealous as that made me to admit it--and maybe I could--perish the thought!--help him with his love life, as much as that would kill me to do.

“Well, there ain’t much left as it is, luv,” he stated, leaning back in the seat as he stared at the cigarette in his hand; a softer look had suddenly come over his face. Then he turned his head and looked straight at me. “Hey, Laurie?”

“Hmm?”

“If I proposed something to you, would you give me an honest answer?”

Okay--my heart stopped upon hearing that one! Oh, dear god, no--he’s going to ask me to marry him! I thought. No, wait... that’s ridiculous, Laurie! Why on earth would he do something as rash as that?!

“S-sure,” I sputtered, still not sure what the question would be at all.

“Would you--”

“Hey, Macca!” John shouted from outside the screens on the gazebo. He and the others were returning from their trip to the garden... and he’d just interrupted perhaps the most crucial moment of my life! “Tell your little girlfriend to get out here and let us know where we’re going tonight!”

Paul got up and started walking out of the gazebo, replying, “All right, Johnny, all right...”

I was just stuck in one spot, disbelieving that Paul just got up and walked away from me at that moment! Then I realized that I was in a bit of trouble; I still hadn’t come up with something to do that night! Okay... time for something off the top of my head... hmm....

“Why don’t you go miniature golfing?” Claire suggested.

I gave her a look; god how immature! I thought. They wouldn’t want to do something so infantile! But then Ringo said, “Hey, we haven’t done that for a while... what do you think?”

“Sure,” John said. “And maybe we’ll do better this time while we’re sober!”

I raised an eyebrow. “You guys played mini golf drunk?!”

“A couple of years ago when we were here in the States on tour,” George began, “we’d been drinking a bit in the hotel... and we just got the bug to go miniature golfing at a place about three blocks from the hotel.”

“How did you manage to do that?” I said incredulously.

“Well, we weren’t that drunk,” Ringo said. “Though I suppose we ended up golfing 6’s on each of the holes because of the drinks...”

I giggled. That must have been one hell of a sight! I would’ve paid to see something like that!

“Would you guys be interested in mini golf tonight?” I asked, double checking the suggestion with all of them.

“Sure,” Paul said. “It’ll be an experience!”

As the group chattered on about the evening’s activity, I whispered to Claire, “Go in the house and ask Neil if he wants to go with us... and you might as well ask Mom if you can go with, too...”

Claire nodded happily, making a beeline for the back door. I slowly headed back towards the house, and a few minutes later, Claire came trudging outside. Uh-oh... bad news...

“Neil doesn’t want to go; he’s going to stay here just in case Brian calls from the hotel... and Mom won’t let me go with...” she replied, her voice trailing off.

“Oh, Claire... I’m sorry,” I said. That poor kid wasn’t allowed to do anything! “Why won’t she let you go with?”

“You guys are going to be out late, aren’t you?”

“Probably...”

“Well, that’s your answer; she doesn’t want me coming home late,” Claire said. She looked about ready to cry; I could tell that she had really been looking forward to going with us! I guess her stubbornness hadn’t worked on Mom that time.

Ringo happened to notice Claire’s sad expression from afar, and walked over to us to find out what was going on. “What’s wrong, luv?”

Claire shook her head. “I can’t go with,” she said quietly. “Mom won’t let me.”

“Aww,” he replied. “Tell you what, though... if we can talk your mother into it, would you like to go to the show with us on Friday?”

I’ve never seen Claire’s face light up so quickly as it did when she heard that suggestion. “Really?!” she squeaked, grinning. Those tears were gone instantly, as quickly as they’d come!

Ringo nodded. “I’m sure she’ll let you go. After all, we managed to bring Laurie back here in one piece after our show here last year,” he joked.

“Okay, Claire... we’ll talk to Mom about it later,” I said, smiling. “Oh, and if I forget, remind her about when she was a kid and went to New York to see Frank Sinatra without Grandma and Grandpa’s permission...”

Claire rolled her eyes. “How many times have we heard about that one?” she laughed. I was glad that I managed to keep Claire from having a hissy-fit in front of the Beatles; she would’ve regretted something like that happening if she did it!

My mother gave me the okay to go out with the Beatles for the evening; all she requested was that I didn’t get home extremely late or that I got them into any sort of messes with fans that night. So, after the lads had taken a while to wash up and change into more proper-looking suits for their evening out on the town and made sure they had their wallets with them and I swiped my purse off of my dresser in my room, I was behind the wheel of the Cadillac with Ringo at my side and John, Paul, and George sitting in the back seat. We went flying down Cold Creek Street towards town with the car windows open all the way; the Beatles had all put on sunglasses and were sort of slouched down in their seats so that they wouldn’t attract any attention while we were on the road.

“And don’t you dare start that stupid flirting game with people in the other cars while I’m driving!” I warned them, staring into the rear-view mirror at the three in the back. “I’ll come back their and kick you guys out if you make me crash this car!”

Paul grinned angelically. “Now, really, Laurie... would we do something like that?” he said, folding his hands in his lap and twiddling his thumbs, trying his best to look innocent.

“Do you really want me to answer that?” I said, giving him a look through the mirror as I made a right turn around a sharp street corner.

The Browning Avenue miniature golf course appeared to be pretty empty as I pulled the car into the parking lot; there were only a few groups of people on the course that I could see from the car. I sighed with relief. I’d been hoping that since it was a weeknight there wouldn’t be too many people around; that place can get jam-packed during the evening on weekends, but during the week it wasn’t too bad. The floodlights in the parking lot and in the golf course switched on a few moments later; the sun was almost completely below the horizon at that point, and the air was definitely cooling off for the night. I almost wished I’d brought a jacket with me at that point for later on if it got really cold.

The four Beatles jumped out of the car the moment I shut off the ignition and waited for me to gather my keys and purse and get out as well before we headed up the little brick path to the admissions booth. The man behind the counter probably didn’t have a clue who the lads were; about the only thing he said was “Two-fifty” when he rang up five admission prices on the cash register.

I unsnapped the clasp on my purse to search for money, but George caught me by my upper arm and said, “No, no, Laurie... it’s on us.”

“No, you guys!” I said as he reached into his wallet and pulled out a five-dollar bill to hand to the guy behind the counter. “Really... you don’t have to do that...”

“Bollocks; save your money for school, luv,” George said, pocketing his change. “If we don’t spend it, the tax man gets it all at the end of the year anyway.”

“O-kay,” I said, my voice on an upswing as each of them selected a putter from the rack just beyond the admission booth. I chose one after they were done, and we walked down the brick path to Hole One.

“Johnny,” Ringo said as I began filling in our names on the little blue scorecard, “how in God’s name are you going to play? You don’t have your glasses with.”

I stopped writing and looked up from my scribbling at John, who shrugged. “Hey, I’ll manage,” he said with a wave of his hand. “I can’t do any worse than I did last time, eh?”

I’d listed myself as first on the scorecard, followed by John, Paul, George, and Ringo in that order--that’s just the typical order that I always wrote their names in!--then handed the card to Paul to hang on to while I took my turn. The first hole was a pretty simple, straightforward little putting green; all you had to do was putt the ball across nine feet of narrow green into the hole at the round end of it, no pitch on the green or any obstacles--not hard at all, right? I nearly made it in on the first try, but my orange ball rolled just a bit to the right of the hole.

“Okay, John; go ahead,” I said, stepping aside.

John gave the ball too much of a thwack; it almost bounced out of the green and into some shrubbery to our left before landing about as far from the hole as it possibly could have in the circle green surrounding the hole. I really wished I’d thought of him being blind as a bat earlier so I could’ve told him to bring his glasses. I doubt that he would’ve worn them anyway, though... you know John...

“Top that one, Macca,” he joked as Paul took his turn. I could’ve screamed when the ball just barely made it into the hole--a hole in one on his first try!

“Jerk!” I giggled, giving him a playful shove.

Paul beamed with pride, standing next to me as George and Ringo took their turns, both ending up very close to where my ball had stopped earlier. The four of us then took our turns again to finish the hole; I ended up with a score of two, George and Ringo both got threes, and John... well, he ended up with a five--one short of the maximum number of strokes allowed on the holes.

“I think you’re going for a record, Johnny,” George said as we walked towards Hole Two. “Worst Miniature Golf Game Ever Played in Pine Lake.”

“Hey, come off it,” John muttered as I penciled in a five next to his name on the scorecard.

The second hole was the start of the more challenging holes on the course; the theme behind the entire golf course was “Around the U.S.A”, and Hole Two was a scale replica of Mt. Rushmore. You had to hit the ball uphill; once it reached the top, it would roll into one of three tubes depending how far to the left or right it was from dead center, then come out of the tube either to the right, left, or damn close to a hole in one. Paul, John (much to my amazement), and I all made it through the center tube, while George and Ringo ended up in the right tube; none of us got that hole in one, though, since it was angled just close enough to nearly go in, but not quite. I ended up with a two on that hole, as did Paul and Ringo, with George getting a three, and John a six before finally making it in.

By the time we got to the halfway point at the tenth hole after golfing at such scenic sites as the redwood forest, the Golden Gate Bridge, and the Empire State Building, I had a score of 25; Paul was beating me with a score of 21, George and Ringo weren’t too far behind with 26s, and John... well, he had a 51! He’d gotten either a five or a six on every single hole so far!

“Well, well, well...” Paul said, poking me in the back gently with his golf club. “It appears that I’m winning, Miss Laurie; what do you think of that?”

“Beginner’s luck!” I said quickly, turning around and making a face. “The next nine holes are harder than the first nine... don’t let that confidence go to your head, Paul...”

“Likewise for you!” he replied, reading over the scores on the card. “Or perhaps you just don’t want to admit that there’s a very good chance that I might beat you on this game...”

I shook my head, getting ready for Hole Ten. “Yeah, right,” I said, trying to line myself up so I would hit the ball right between the two Hawaiian palm trees that were the obstacle on that hole. “I’ve been coming to this place since it opened three years ago; I’m an expert on this course!”

Ringo laughed, leaning against the little podium where you could write down your scores on the card. “Then how do you explain the fact that Paul’s beating you?”

I hit the ball just a smidgen too far to the left, and it bounced off the palm tree. I gritted my teeth, then turned around and said, “Like I said: beginner’s luck!”

Paul just nodded slowly with the biggest smart-ass look I’d ever seen on his face! I could’ve swung that golf club right at him if I was the slightest bit more upset with him! The fact that by some miracle I got a 2 on that hole and he got a 3 consoled me somewhat as we headed towards the White House on Hole Eleven.

It was a hell of a close game between me and Paul as we neared the end of the course; after the seventeenth hole, I had a total score of 47, beating him by just two strokes. George and Ringo weren’t very far behind us, either, with a 53 and a 51 respectively. And John... I suppose the 98 he had at that point was a bit of a blessing; he’d managed to somehow get 5s on some of the holes during the game.

Hole Eighteen wasn’t really much of a hole per se; it was a fancy way of returning the ball at the end of the game. You had to hit the ball down a green that was about ten feet long into one of six slots at the end that were numbered 2, 4, 5, 3, 6, 1, 6, 3, 5, 4, 2 from left to right, and the number on the slot you landed in was the number of strokes added onto your overall score; obviously it was best to aim for the 1 in the center... but if you missed, you’d end up with a 6 right at the end of the game! Luckily, after dozens of visits to that place, I knew pretty much exactly where to hit the ball from so it would land in the middle hole.

“Well, Paul, I guess this is it for you,” I smirked as I set the ball down on the little black plastic putting square. “It’s been a challenge, really...”

Paul just crossed his arms and gave me a “oh-is-that-so?” look as I lined myself up for the kill. I hit the ball just hard enough so it would fly a few inches straight before actually rolling very much on the green and curving towards one of the sixes... and it went straight into slot one at high-speed! I began to give a shout--

Then, to my embarrassment, the ball hit the back of the slot too hard, bouncing out, then rolling into the six slot to the right of it! That grin fell off of my face so fast that I swear I heard it hit the ground and shatter! I felt completely mortified; that must have been the first time in my life I’d every tried bragging that much in advance... and it blew up in my face! I wanted to crawl behind Mt. Rushmore in the corner of the course and die!

“What the... No fair!” I shouted, pointing at the slots angrily as Paul broke into laughter with the others. “No! Come on! That was a gyp! It bounced out! I want to do it over again!”

“Sorry, luv,” John said, getting ready for his turn. “Your turn’s over! You can’t very well get the ball back, now, can you?”

He gave the ball one last thwack... and you wouldn’t believe it! He got it into the 1 slot like it was easy as pie! And for even more of an insult, the little red lightbulbs at the top of the slots started blinking on and off and a bell rang shrilly.

“What the bloody hell is that?” he said, stepping back from the green cautiously.

I sighed. “You just won a free game, John,” I muttered, throwing my club to the ground and crossing my arms. Of all the lousy luck...

“Gear!” he said, stepping aside for Paul to take his turn. I glared at Paul as he lined up his shot; he looked up right before hitting the ball and said, “That nasty scowl’s twisting your face, Laur.” He ended up with a three... beating me by one stroke!

“Oh, you...” I began, then shut up before uttering some very unladylike words to him. “Come on, John; I’ll go get your free game with you...”

John received his little yellow card for a free game of mini golf as I returned our clubs to the racks; he read it over with a little smile, then offered it to me. “Here you go, luv... will you stop pouting if I give you this?”

“I don’t want it... I’m never coming back here again,” I said, leaning up against the side of the admissions booth.

“Look, Laurie, I don’t exactly know when I’ll find meself in Pine Lake again, so you’d better just take it anyway,” he said, pressing it into my palm. “Take it to your kid sister, if nothing else... tell her I won it for her.”

That got a smile out of me. “John, do you really think I need her fainting dead away on me after she hears that?” I laughed, pocketing the card anyway. “Thanks...”

The other three returned moments later, setting their clubs back in the racks as Paul finished adding up George’s and Ringo’s scores on the card. “Well, Laurie got a 53, John got a 99, I got a 52--woo-hoo!--George got a 54, and Ringo got a 53, too,” he announced, dropping the pencil into the wooden box I’d selected it from earlier. “Congratulations, Lennon--you’ve just become the worst golfer in Pine Lake!”

“Worst, eh? How come I’m the only one that got a 1 on the last hole, eh? Even our crack shot Laurie couldn’t do it,” he said as we headed back towards the car. “And I won a free game to boot.”

I smacked at a mosquito that was attacking my arm--those little buggers were vicious at night!--and asked, “Okay, now that you’ve killed me at that game, where do you want to go next?”

“Well, what time is it?” Ringo asked.

I checked my watch. “Eight-fifteen,” I replied. “Hey, if you guys don’t mind a bit of a drive, do you want to stop off at Rosary? I could show you around the school a little.”

Ringo nodded. “I don’t mind taking a ride... as long as it won’t be a bother for you, Laurie.”

I shook my head. “Not at all,” I said. “I like driving down there during the summer... going there reminds me of how miserable I could be sitting in a class during a beautiful night like this... makes me appreciate my summer break on a whole new level!”

We took Cicero Avenue from its starting point south of Pine Lake and drove all the way into Chicago to North Avenue, then west to Rosary in River Forest. If you thought that River Forest was quiet on a winter’s day, you should see it on a summer night; all those millionaires must be in Europe for the entire season, because there are never any lights on in any of the houses around the college! Rosary is probably the only place where there are human beings around in that town; the Library Science school had summer classes going--the only department on campus that was co-ed! I really don’t understand how they can run a co-ed library science school and not make the rest of the school co-ed. I mean, for the most part, all the people that go there honestly are good Catholics; they’re not going to have wild drinking parties in the dorms when the nuns are living right above them on campus if they let guys in!

Anyway, it was almost nine-thirty by the time I pulled into the circle driveway in front of Lewis Hall; the sun was long gone, and the only illumination around was the few streetlamps around the doors of Lewis Hall, Power Hall, and the Fine Arts building. Everything around us was dead silent, quite a difference from the lively campus I was used to seeing during the school year. The only lights on inside the buildings were a few of the sisters’ lights on the fourth floor of Power Hall. It made the ivy-covered four-story Gothic buildings look more and more like castles than they ever did during the school year.

The four followed me out of the car as I stepped into the night air, which was getting surprisingly cool; maybe it was just because all the trees around the school had kept the area pretty sheltered from the heat of the sun all day.

“This place looks quite different from last time,” John said, taking in the surroundings as best he could in the dim light. Our voices seemed to echo loudly against the tall walls of the buildings around three sides of us; hopefully we wouldn’t get yelled at for trespassing on school property or anything by one of the nuns.

“Well, it’s bound to when we’re not speeding by the buildings yelling at one of my teachers,” I laughed, heading for the Quad, the grassy square area between Power and Lewis Hall. “Actually, I don’t really see the school that much during the summer, since I live so far away from here....”

“Where do you dorm?” Paul asked me quietly as we all stood in the middle of the Quad.

I pointed to Power Hall. “I was in a third floor room this year--the window is the third one from the corner of the building,” I said, pointing to the pitch-black window. “The heater in that one actually worked, unlike the one in my old room last year.”

He nodded, searching his pockets for his cigarettes and lighter. “Damn...” he muttered.

“What’s up? Did you lose something?” I asked.

“Me lighter... I must’ve dropped it in the car,” he said, drumming his fingers on the cigarette box.

John reached into his pocket and pulled out a book of matches that he’d been carrying around. “Use one of these, Paul,” he said, offering the pack to Paul.

“No... I want to find my damn lighter,” Paul said, turning circles around himself to check if it had fallen onto the ground while we’d been walking. “That thing cost a fortune; maybe it’s in the car.”

I spun my car keys around my thumb on the keyring and said, “Well, let’s go back and check the car for it; it’s gotta be in there somewhere.” I walked quickly across the grass and down the circle drive to where the car was parked close to the front gates of the school; Paul was right behind me the whole time, muttering something about “that damn lighter” or something.

I struggled to get the key in the keyhole to unlock the door; those lamps on top of the two stone pillars on either side of the entrance drive didn’t provide any light at all! Finally I unlocked the door, reaching over the driver’s seat to unlock the back door for Paul; he opened the door and began surveying the floor for his missing lighter from where he was standing.

“Maybe it slipped between the seat cushions,” I suggested, closing the driver’s door and standing next to him. “It could have--”

“Laurie, I’m not really looking for my lighter,” he said in a low voice so the others couldn’t hear.

“Huh?”

“I wanted a minute or two to talk to you again,” he said, practically whispering by that point. “I didn’t get a chance to finish talking to you earlier.”

“Oh... that,” I said, getting very nervous again. I’d almost been ready to dismiss our earlier conversation as just a trivial conversation and that he hadn’t been ready to ask me anything really important... but now he brought it up again! What was next? “Yes; you were going to ask me something.”

“Well,” he began; he was actually kind of fidgety as he looked at me a little nervously. “I know what I’m going to ask you is kind of on short notice; I mean, we’ve only been back in town for one day... and this idea came to me before we ate supper tonight.”

“Uh-huh,” I said, nodding. Talk about anticipation! It was worse than a kid waiting for Christmas morning to arrive felt!

“Eh, you see, I was wondering... I know you probably don’t start classes here until September--”

“September 6th,” I informed him, pressing my car keys so tightly in my palm I was sure I’d have jagged red marks on my hand after I let them go.

“And, you see, our tour is scheduled to end a few days before that... so I was wondering... um... would you at all be interested in, uh, going with us?”

“Huh?” I said. Boy, I sounded like a brilliant college student that night! Huh? Huh? What a great vocabulary I had! “Going where, exactly?”

“On-on the tour with us,” he said, blinking his eyes nervously; he was acting exactly like Ryan Jeffries did in the seventh grade when he asked me to the winter dance at Breckhurst Elementary! “We leave for Detroit the morning after our concert here.”

“Are you serious?” I said, staring straight at him. Please, Paul, don’t be messing with my mind at a time like this!

“Yeah; Neil and Brian already gave it the okay,” he said, leaning against the car. “It’s only for a couple weeks... if you want to head home at any time, Brian can book you on a flight home. We all want you to come with us, Laurie; it’s not just me, you know...”

Okay; this just couldn’t be happening to me! It couldn’t be! This was the stuff that only dreams were made of, not real life! I held tight to the door handle with my free hand. “How can I say no to that?” I said, beaming at him. “I would absolutely love to go with you guys!”

Paul grinned, rather pleased with himself now that he’d gotten the answer he’d been hoping for. “Gear,” he said, leaning over and kissing my cheek. “Thank you, luv.”

He turned his head to look over his shoulder and shouted to the others, “Hey, lads! She’s going with us!”

The other three let up a cheer from the Quad, and about ten seconds later, the first window on the fourth floor of Power Hall flew open and one of the nuns poked her head outside. “What do you think you’re doing, making all that racket out there?” she yelled down at us. “Get off of the campus before I call the police on you for disturbing the peace!”

I gripped Paul’s upper arm and fumbled for my keys with my other hand. That voice was way too familiar! It was Sister Janet, no doubt about it!

“Guys, guys, guys!” I said, unlocking the car door. “Let’s get the hell out of here! That’s Sister Janet! If she recognizes me, it’s all over!”

After running back to the car, John, George, and Ringo all leaped into the back seat as Paul sat down in the passenger seat next to me and slammed his door shut; I started the car, threw it into gear, and took off into the darkness of Division Street. My adrenaline was running through my veins as my heart was pounding for a million and one reasons: Sister Janet could’ve called the cops on us; the Beatles would’ve had a River Forest police record!

And the whole touring with the Beatles situation... what in the world would I tell my parents? How would I ever be able to console Claire when she couldn’t go with? What was I going to tell Cheryl and Anna? Would I even be allowed to go with on the whole trip in the first place? Would I make it home without going bonkers and driving into the Des Plaines River off the North Avenue bridge at such a breakneck speed? Well, that one I had to make sure happened; I wouldn’t have to worry about any of the other obstacles if I didn’t make it home in one piece, because then I definitely wouldn’t be going anywhere for a very long time!

I just thanked my lucky stars when we arrived back in the driveway at my house around eleven-thirty, safe and sound; no more nights out on the town for me for a while! Actually, it would have to be a while before I went driving through the streets of Chicago for a while... I was going to go on tour with the Beatles, no matter what I had to say or do to get to go!

Continue to Chapter Five...