I realized that when I looked back at that day, I could have taken either choice, find John or have John come back to me, and the situation would have had the same resolution. I would have gone home in the first place before anything, and I would have seen him either way. Eventually, John and Paul both resolved their disagreement and became the best of friends again.

All that is part of the past, and now it's rather trivial, since the present has our attention. I'm now twenty, which is a long jump from being the fourteen-year-old I have told you about. I'm in my third year at the University of Liverpool, studying the subject I love, which is art. I think I still look the same as I did when I was a teenager; I still have my long, straight, brown hair, but it's now down to the middle of my back. I still have the same eyes, same face, but I just look a bit older.

So many things have passed in John, Paul, and George's lives, who are now twenty-three, twenty-one, and twenty, respectively. I hardly see them anymore, although we are constantly on the phone if possible.

Why, you ask, do I hardly see them anymore? To make it brief, things have changed. The boys've been to Hamburg, Germany and back, all grown up, much more independent, and not so innocent anymore. Friends came and went. They found a new drummer, Richard Starkey, also known as "Ringo Starr," with whom I've become good friends. He's a cute fellow with lovely, baby blue eyes. He's seems so sad, yet always so happy at the same time; the paradox perfectly complements.

John, Paul, George, and Ringo formed a band called "The Beatles." Their music has taken them to different cities, countries, continents. The boys are becoming more and more famous. I'm so proud of them. I knew they could do it. They had it in them, and after their hard work, they've finally achieved success, and it's still growing.

On the other hand, my life is ... Well, I'm trying to live it as normal as possible. People only want to know me because I'm friends with the Beatles, and, to add, a Beatle's sister. I've been trying to find my own self, my own identity than just be classified as a "Beatle's sister" or "John Lennon's little sister."

Of course, that doesn't mean I'm not proud to be John's sister, but I want people to know me for who I am, not just to whom I'm related or know. I don't mind some of the attention, but some people just tell me they like Beatle music just to get on my good side, and maybe I'll get them an autograph. Lately, not many people have bothered me about it (maybe because I'm in school), which is a relief.

Oh, I promised to tell you about my best friend, Ryoka. We've known each other since we were ten. Ryoka Kanashiya is her full name. Her father is Japanese and her mother is Chinese. Ryoka's a little bit taller than me, and she's got short, shiny, jet black hair. She's only two weeks older than me. English is her first language, but she is fluent in Japanese, Chinese, and sign language, since one of her aunts is deaf. She's teaching me a bit of sign language too, which I, in turn, am teaching to the boys.

Ryoka's attending the same university as I am, but she's studying medicine. She's very intelligent, being only twenty, but in classes where everyone else is twenty-three to twenty-five years old. Did I mention she was also a talented, creative artist? She likes anything creative, but above all, she loves to draw Japanese cartoons. I admire her for the ease at which she can produce a picture of a Japanese cartoon. In ten minutes flat, she can complete a masterpiece.

"Do you think you 'ave everything?" Ryoka asked, setting down my carry-on suitcase.

"Uh huh, I think I'm done now. Thanks so much for your help," I said gratefully as I stood up. I was checking if I had everything in my other suitcase.

The month is February. The year is 1964. The Beatles' latest album is "With The Beatles" and their latest single (perhaps you've heard of it) is called--

"I want to hold your hand!" a familiar voice sang perfectly on key as its owner walked into the room.

"Hi, John!" Ryoka and I said.

"Could I ask the two of you to help me, please? I kinda can't get all me stuff in me bag," John said, almost a little embarrassed.

"Sure!" I said. Ryoka just smiled knowingly. The both of us followed John upstairs to his room.

Let me just mention this: "I Want To Hold Your Hand" was the boys' ticket to America. The Beatles broke the American market with a bang, and now they had a chance to tour the country they've always wanted to visit.

I knew I had to attend school since the tour was going to be in February. Yet John wanted me to come along so I could see more of the world with him. He also said he wanted me to come because he needed the company, needed the reassurance that the world wasn't as crazy as it seemed, especially after he told me about some of the things he went through from his last tour; some of the stories were outrageous ...

Soon after he asked me to come along, I thought it over and talked to my professors at school about my going away for about three weeks. They were a bit skeptical, but I said I would do the schoolwork when I was travelling. So they let me participate in the Independent Studies program, which was the program students took while they went abroad to other countries, and my university was the only one I knew of that had this program. I was relieved, elated, and excited when my professors let me take this option. This made it much easier on me since I wouldn't have to make up all the work when I returned.

Ryoka and I were still helping John with his bags. We had to hurry since we had to be ready to leave soon. Neil would bring the car over to pick up John and I after he picked up the other three. Neil Aspinall was one of the Beatles' roadies. Another roadie was Mal Evans, and he was already waiting at the airport with the Beatles' manager, Brian Epstein.

Click! went the lock of one of the suitcases as Ryoka and I closed it.

"Whew, 'couldn't have done it without you two. Thanks," John said, looking up from inspecting another suitcase.

"Anytime at all," I answered.

The doorbell rang.

"I'll get it! It's probably them," I said as I noticed his open carry-on bag. "Hey, that one's still open, John."

"Oh, oh, yeh, I know, thanks. You get the door, and I'll handle this," he told me.

"I'll help him, so you 'ave nothing to worry about," Ryoka added, smiling. I nodded as I went downstairs to open the door.

"Hi, Paulina!" said Ringo, George, and Paul simultaneously. George sneezed right after he said that.

"Hi to all of ya!" I said. "And bless you, George. Are you okay?"

George nodded his head. "I got a bit of a cold, that's all."

"Oh, I'm sorry. But you'll be fine. We'll take care of ya!" I said.

"Yeah, just as long as you don't give it to me," Paul said. George gave him a little push.

"Sod off. It'll be your fault for catchin' it," George said before he took out a tissue and blew his nose.

"Don't mind them, Paulina," Ringo said, smiling. "'You all ready?"

"I'm all done, and John's almost finished," I said.

"Typical of 'im to leave it all at the last minute," Paul said playfully. "Does he need any help?"

"No, no, I got it," John said, carrying his bags down the stairs. Ryoka was carrying his carry-on. As soon as the two came down, Ringo, George, and Paul helped with all the suitcases. I protested, saying I could do it, but they wouldn't hear of it. John, on the other hand, was glad to have someone take his bags for him.

"They insisted, they did," John said to me slyly.

I took my carry-on, and John took his. The four of them said goodbye to Ryoka, and headed out to the car. I stayed behind to say my goodbye to Ryoka.

"I'm gonna miss you! I'll call you once I'm there, okay? I wish you could've come with me," I said, stepping out the door.

"Yeah, call me!" she said enthusiastically. "And about goin' with you: I wouldn't want to impose, and I want to stay 'ere. I want to stay with me parents for Chinese New Year. And I went to America last year, remember?"

"Yeah, I remember," I said. "Thanks so much for everything, though!"

"Oh, sure, no problem," she replied. "I'm waitin' for your Aunt Mimi to come home so the house won't be entirely empty when I leave. She already said goodbye to you all this mornin'?"

"Yeah, she did, thanks. Take care, and I'll call."

"I'll be waiting. You just take care of yourself and those four." She pointed to the car outside.

"You know I will. I'll look after 'em and make sure they won't cause trouble ... Well, not much of it, at least," I said. We shared a hug, and as I walked toward the car, we waved goodbye to each other.

I opened the back car door and sat next to George, who sat next to Ringo. John and Paul were up in front with Neil in the driver's seat. I put my carry-on on my lap. We waved one last time to Ryoka, and soon, the Beatles and I were off to the airport, where we would take a plane and head out to that once seemingly distant and unconquerable country, America.

~~~***~~~

The moments at the airport were all a blur. First we were in one spot, then some officials directed us to another spot, and then another. We met up with Mal and Brian. Later, some more officials gave us orders and instructions that flew in from all directions, telling us to do this and that.

I was amazed how the boys handled this. They knew it was the procedure, and they were rather calm about the situation. They had done this before.

John, perhaps sensing that I was a little overwhelmed, gave me a smile.

"Don't worry, luv. You'll get used to it," he reassured. I nodded. John, carrying his bag in one hand, took my hand in the other, and helped me through the chaos of it all. I loved the touch of his hand; it was strong, confident, yet still gentle and affectionate.

Soon, we were at the gate. The airport officials had to take extra precautions to inspect the plane for fans or for anything that could endanger any of us. We had to wait at least twenty minutes, but at last, we were finally able to board. As I entered the plane, I was filled with excitement and my heart was beating fast. I did not know what to expect of the events that could possibly follow. But I knew that I could get through it all. All I needed was a hand to hold ...

"I want to hold your hand," I whispered, gazing up at John. He, in turn, gave my hand a little squeeze and smiled back.

On to Chapter 11