We were soaring through the air, and each second that passed, we were inching closer and closer to America. I had never flown in an airplane before, so it was a new, exciting experience. The seats were in pairs on both sides of the plane, and we were on the left side of the plane, except for Mal, Brian, and some of his assistants, who sat in on the right side. Ringo and Neil sat in the two seats up from where I was, and John and Paul were in the seats right in front of me. I had an aisle seat and sat next to George since everyone refused to sit next to him because of his sickness.

George had been asleep since the beginning of the flight, resting his head on my left shoulder, while I read one of my schoolbooks, because when I returned home, I would have to take a test. Just a minute ago, George was awakened because of some mild turbulence.

"'ello there," I said, putting my book down on my lap. "'You sleep okay?"

"Yeah, thanks," he said softly, slowing waking and then sitting up. "I'm sorry I put me head on your shoulder. You couldn't get up or anythin' because of me."

"'Salright. I didn't mind. You needed the rest, and I didn't want to wake you."

"Thank you," he said, his voice different due to being congested. "Do y'know how much longer it's gonna be?" he asked.

"Last time I heard, we had about forty minutes left." I then put my hair in a ponytail so it wouldn't get in the way if we had to run around when we landed.

"'Might as well stay awake then," he said as he stretched his arms then rested his head on the headrest.

"Paulina? Are you done readin'?" Paul looked back from his seat to address me. "How are ya? 'Seems I haven't talked to you for an eternity."

"Hi, Paul. I'm doin' fine. I'm almost finished with this chapter, and plus, George woke up and needed the company."

"Aw, lit'le Geo, did ya sleep well? You're so cute when you're asleep. Almost as cute as John, but not quite," Paul teased. George just scowled at him.

"Shut yer gob or I'll sneeze on you."

Paul looked away in disgust while I smiled. I asked, "Hey, Paul, what're the others up to anyway?"

"Ringo's sleeping. Neil's talking to Mal and Brian. And John, he's ..." Paul turned to look at John, who was on Paul's left since Paul had the aisle seat.

"Yes?"

"John's concentrating. I'm winning."

"Oh."

"Not for long, ha ha!" John said triumphantly. "Jump, jump, jump, jump, jump!"

"Hey! That's not fair! Your single piece couldn't 'ave jumped over all me red ones! My piece wasn't there originally so you couldn't have done that." Paul quickly turned around to face John.

"King me."

"You cheated."

"No, I didn't."

"Yes, you did."

How they got their hands on a checkerboard, I will never know.

"Pearl, c'mon, defend yer brother 'ere," John said. "I didn't cheat, did I? I never cheat."

"That depends on how you look at it," I said, smiling. Paul's eyes widened with delight.

"Aha! That proves it! You did cheat!"

"No, I didn't!"

"Why don't you two stop it because you're givin' me a bloody headache! It's bad enough I 'ave to deal with a sore throat," George said, putting his hand on his forehead.

"This is an important game. If I don't win this one, I'll lose the championship!" Paul complained.

"Oh, sorry, George," John said sarcastically. "Have we disturbed his highness? Actually, not we, but just Paul because he's the one makin' the huge fuss 'bout it."

Before the two solved the problem, Brian told us that we were about to land shortly and about what was planned for when the Beatles landed. We had to wait while the lads attended a press conference. After that, we would go the hotel. I imagined it would be more complicated than that, but the way Brian said it made it seem so easy.

The plane finally landed. All of us gathered our belongings, and when the plane door opened, a screeching, continuous stream of noise surrounded us. We thought it was the plane at first, until we discovered the enormous crowd of fans, mostly female, waving frantically, and screaming. The Beatles, as Brian had assigned, descended the stairs from the plane first. They smiled at the crowd and waved back, laughing and apparently enjoying the warm reception from the American fans.

Once they reached the ground, the lads were led by police officers, who looked rather indifferent and perhaps slightly annoyed that the Beatles had stirred up such a wild reaction from the crowd. Neil, adjusting the bag strap on his shoulder, said it was time to follow them. I did so with Mal and Brian following close behind me.

When we were on the ground as well, I could see the four Beatles up ahead. John, about twenty feet away from me, looked back hurriedly. When he finally caught my eye, I smiled and gave him a wink to show that everything was fine. He quickly nodded and winked back, then returned to walking forward again.

"Is it always like this?" I asked Neil, raising my voice so he could hear me over the noise the fans were generating.

"Similar to this," he answered. "The crowd size varies, but they all still scream, and the press is still ever insistent for photos and interviews and more." I realized I was just walking through Beatlemania; I had never seen anything like this. No, not at this multitude. For the lads though, it was just another day, another day of their lives.

As the four of us, Neil, Mal, Brian, and I, entered the airport, we saw the Beatles, still guarded by policemen. The lads waiting alongside a stage with a podium full of microphones.

Brian walked ahead to them to give them further instructions, while Neil told me to stay behind with him and the Beatles' carry-on bags. John and the other three Beatles gave me little waves, and I waved back. Neil laughed at this.

"They love ya so much, those four lads," Neil said. I gave him a shy smile and I think I blushed too.

"Look, they're about to start," Mal said as he came up behind us. The Beatles walked on the stage. "You two can go stand over there near Brian. I'll take care of the bags and instruments."

"Are you sure you don't need any help?" I offered.

"I can help you, Mal," Neil said. "Paulina, you stand near Brian so you can see 'em talk."

"But, Neil, I--"

"Y'know, I sometimes wonder who's takin' care of whom. Whether the lads take care of you, or you take care of them. For now though, you watch over the lads, 'specially John, all right?" Neil said with a smile.

"Thank you, and I will."

"Oh, one more thing, Paulina. Make sure to keep 'em in your sight. 'Don't want to lose one of them or you," Neil warned, but still with the smile on his face. "After it's finished, Brian knows what to do. We'll see each other after the conference."

At that, I then walked over to the side of the stage to stand near Brian. He nodded and grinned as I approached, then looked on at the four lads talking.

The Beatles had the crowd in the palms of their hands. Each question thrown at them had an immediate answer ricochet back to the crowd, and the crowd always responded with a laugh or some applause. Happily were the Beatles accepted by the Americans, who now knew them in the flesh and not just as the four voices heard from a record or the four faces seen on the cover.

When the press conference ended, the Beatles left the whole crowd smiling and beaming. The members of the press began to disperse, but they were probably going to get ready to snap more photos of the lads once we were on our way to the hotel.

"Hi, Pearl! So, how didja like that?" John asked while stepping off stage with the others.

"You did great, John," I replied. "All of you did great."

"C'mon now, you all," Brian said. "We must leave immediately to avoid any mishaps with such a large crowd."

"What next? We're goin' to the hotel?" Ringo asked.

"Yes, we're heading there now. Out this way to the back of the airport to get to the cars," Brian directed. We followed him quickly through the airport, the number of people around slowly diminishing since they did not have much business being around that area, I assumed. Brian opened a door and there was a parking lot with several black cars. Neil and Mal were waiting there for us.

"Just hop inside the second car," Mal said to the four Beatles and me. "Neil will lead in the first car with the smaller bags you had on the plane. Brian and I will get in the other ones and follow you with the rest of the luggage."

"Yeah, but will we be safe from the fans?" asked Paul.

"'Got it taken care of," Mal reassured. "You'll be in the back, near the employees' entrance. We'll have the decoy limos come out in front. You won't be recognized if you're not in the limousines."

"Oh, good. I wouldn't want to be torn to bits by fans. What a way to go," George said relieved. He coughed right after he spoke.

"Are you okay, George?" I asked him after we got in the car. Ringo and Paul sat in front with the driver, and George, John, and I sat in the back. I was in the middle.

"No, I'm fine, Paulina. Thanks," George said after clearing his throat. He smiled afterwards.

"How are you then, Pearl?" John asked. "Enjoyin' yourself? Havin' a good time so far?"

"Yeah, have you had enough of us yet?" Paul asked as he turned around to talk to us.

"Of course I'm havin' a good time," I answered. "I always have fun when I'm with the four of you. Did you think I wasn't enjoying myself?"

"Oh, I don't know, I just thought you wouldn't like all this runnin' around, everythin' out of order, y'know?"

"John, I wanted to come because I wanted to be with you, and you asked me to come too. How could I refuse to spend some time with my brother and friends? In any situation at all, I'd want to be with you."

"Thank you! I needed that," John replied with a smile, but when he looked out the window, his face fell. "Jeez, 'you see that?"

"Yeah, I know what you mean, John," Ringo said, looking back to us quickly and then turning his back to see outside the window. A huge crowd of fans was standing in front of the hotel. Although we were inside the car, we could hear a constant noise, which was the constant stream of screams from the fans.

"Thank God we don't have to go through that whole insane lot there," John commented. Our car passed the front of the hotel as we went around it. We pulled up behind the first car at the back of the hotel where no one could see us. Neil was waiting with the bags. We got out of the car to see him.

"See, that was easy enough, right?" Neil said as we approached him. "The hotel employees will help bring up the luggage once the other cars arrive with Mal and Brian. For now, just to keep you all safe, I'm taking you up to the suites."

The four were relieved to hear that piece of news. They now could have the chance to rest and relax. We gathered up our carry-on bags, followed Neil through the 'employees only' section of the hotel, and entered the employee lift.

"Down the hall to the last doors over there," Neil instructed when we reached the twelfth floor. Guards were almost everywhere: in front of the lift, in front of the emergency exit with the stairs, in front of our rooms.

"Why so many of them now even if the whole floor is ours?" Ringo asked Neil about the number of guards. "We didn't 'ave this many before at the other hotels when we were on tour."

"This is the first day of you bein' here, so we and the hotel wanted to make sure nothin' went wrong. They'll only be half of them 'ere tomorrow after things calm a bit and as more of them guard other parts of the hotel. Plus the crowd 'ere was much larger than anticipated."

"Oh, okay, that's understandable," Ringo replied.

"Are those it?" Paul asked, pointing to the doors near the end of the hallway.

"Yes, those are your suites," Neil said. "These two doors on the left 'ere are two connecting suites. They connect one larger suite and one smaller suite. The larger one has three beds while the smaller one has two." He unlocked both doors of the two suites.

"And where will you be?" I asked him.

"The rest of us will be across the hall from you; all our suites are lined up along this side of the hall," he continued, pointing to the right side of the hallway.

"Got it. Thanks again, Neil," Ringo said.

"Arrange who's going to share with who, put your bags down, and rest. I will see if Brian's finished with the business he needed to take care of. Mal will be 'ere soon with the rest of the luggage."

It was about 6 P.M. now. After inspecting the layout of the suites, we decided it would be best if Paul and Ringo were in the smaller suite, while George, John, and I stayed in the larger one. And sure enough, soon Mal and some hotel employees all had our luggage with them. We helped them carry the bags into the appropriate rooms.

"I'll take this room then," George said as he peered into a bedroom on the left side of our suite. "It's got a single bed in 'ere. You two can stay together so you won't have as much of a chance of getting sick from me."

"Okay, that means we've got this room," I replied, walking into the bedroom on the right side of the suite. John and I put our bags down, and decided that we should see how Paul and Ringo were.

But Ringo beat us to it. "Hey, you two, is everything okay?"

"Woah, 'didn't 'ear ya come in, Ring," John said. We were both surprised to see him. "Yeah, we're fine though. Um, howja get in?"

"George opened your connecting door for Paulie and me. You can just keep it open like we 'ave it so we all can come in and out as we please."

"Okay, we can do that. And what exactly are you up to?" John inquired of George, who was lying down on the couch.

"Nothin,' nothin' at all. I--cough, cough--hate being sick," George said. He was hugging his guitar, which rose up and down as he breathed.

"Rest up so you'll feel better, George. You'll be all right by tomorrow," I said.

"I hope so. Me throat still hurts." He plucked random notes from his guitar.

"All right, John, are you ready for the battle of the century?" Paul challenged as he walked into our room and placed the now famous checkerboard on a table.

"I'm always ready for a good fight," John replied coolly. "I'll show you that I didn't cheat."

"We'll just see about that." Paul and John went off to fight in their vicious war of checkers again.

"Are you gonna watch, or are you planning to do something a little more constructive?" I asked Ringo laughingly.

"Constructive all the way, Paulina," Ringo said smiling. "I plan to watch the telly."

"Ah, yes, yes, constructive all the way for sure," I replied.

"I'd watch the two of 'em instead, but I don't wanna be 'round when Lennon upsets McCartney or visa versa, especially in the game of checkers. You know how that can get. I'd prefer to do anythin' else really."

"I'm with you on that one, Ringo. I have to work on a drawing for one of my art classes, but what will you do?"

"Would it be possible if I could watch? I'd love to see you work."

"Sure, you could do that. I don't object," I said. "You're going to like the drawing I'm working on, I hope." I retrieved my sketchbook and pencil from my suitcase in the bedroom, came back, and sat at a little table. Ringo was already waiting for me there. I opened the sketchbook to the last drawing I had been working on.

"Hey, wait a second," Ringo said with teasing skepticism. "I know who that is." He pointed to my drawing.

"Of course you do. If you didn't, then that'd be a bit of problem, Ringo," I said with a smile.

"I didn't think me hair was that light colored."

"That's the part I need to fix up a bit, along with some shading. It's not going to take long, but at least it'll be done. You can still watch if you like."

"Yeah, I'd love to," Ringo said, scooting his chair closer to mine so he could see better. I took my pencil in my left hand, and began making delicate strokes to darken Ringo's hair. After I finished that, I worked on the shading. Meanwhile, there were the occasional sounds of triumph and distress and joy and disappointment from John and Paul from their checkers game. No sounds came from George or Ringo; the former flinching every time the noise from John and Paul reached a decibel he couldn't handle stoically, and the latter ignoring his surroundings, solely concentrating on the paper mirror in front of him.

"There! All finished." I proudly displayed my drawing. "'Didn't take long. Is it okay?" I showed my work to Ringo.

"Paulina, I love it. Thank you. Are you going to hand it in?"

"This one I have turn in for my art professor. It's required I have a drawing of a person, so I used that one. I will give it back to you once it's been graded."

"Thank you, it's wonderful. I'm gonna frame it," he said. "I'm assuming John's got plenty of drawings from his sister, then?" At that, I nodded in response.

"Paul's got a drawing you made for him, right?" he continued. "It was the drawing on the wall in the blue frame I saw at his house?"

"Yes, that's the one," I replied. "I had so much trouble with that picture." Ringo had no idea how much trouble, actually. I smiled on the inside when I recalled the memories in the back of my mind.

Then, there was a knock on the door. It was Brian and Neil. The two gathered the lads around and told them tomorrow's schedule: First, a photo shoot, an interview, then rehearsal for the show on Sunday.

"Ugh, Brian, Neil, I still feel sick, and me throat still--cough, cough--hurts," George said after they finished talking.

"You still feel sick? Do you feel better than before?" Brian asked.

"Yes, a little better because of the medication I took this morning. I'm all right, but a bit tired."

"Maybe he should stay and rest then," Neil suggested. "It's more important that he's well for the show."

"Brian, Neil?" I interjected. "I can stay with George. I 'ave to stay here anyway for my schoolwork, so I can take care of George in the meantime while you're all away for the day."

"Paulina," George protested. "Are you sure about this? You don't have to stay."

I saw Paul glance at John for a reaction because I did the same, and probably for the same reason. But John didn't seem to mind. At first, he gave me a serious look, most likely to remind me of the past, but then his eyes changed and seemed to say 'I trust you,' which was all I needed from him. No words, just expression; what a way to communicate!

"Hmm, excellent," Brian said. "All right, it's settled. Paulina will stay with George and wait for the other three lads and us to return. Does everyone understand what they are to do tomorrow then?" We all nodded in response.

Soon Brian and Neil left, and Paul and Ringo returned to their suite as well, leaving both of the suite connecting doors open. John, George, and I changed and got ready for bed.

"Goodnight, George. I hope you feel better by tomorrow," I said to him while standing in his bedroom doorway; there was no door there anyway.

"Goodnight, George," John said. "Sleep well, all right?"

"Goodnight to the both of you. And thank you, Paulina. You really didn't have to do it--"

"Oh, no, it's okay. I wanted to do it since I was going to stay in the hotel anyway," I said, smiling. "Goodnight, George."

"Goodnight, Paulina. Goodnight, John," he said as he turned off the light next to his bed. John and I went to our own bedroom.

Suddenly, the phone rang. Who could be calling our room at this time?

"Hello?" I said as I answered the phone.

"Hi, Paulina! We just wanted to wish all three of ya a big, happy 'Goodnight!' from the both of us!" Paul's voice resounded from the other end of the line. I could hear Ringo chuckling in the background.

"You know, you have way too much energy, McCartney. Go to sleep," John commanded laughingly. Paul heard him even if John didn't speak directly into the phone.

"You didn't wish us goodnight yet," Paul complained.

"Goodnight, Paul and Ringo. Don't stay up too late," I told them. "Thanks for calling. It was very thoughtful of ya."

"No problem," Paul said. "And what about you, John? 'Gonna follow in your sister's footsteps?"

"I'm too tired to protest, so goodnight, Macca. Goodnight, Richie. See you tomorrow."

"Thank you! We love you too," Paul said with a bit of sarcasm but was happy at same time. "Goodnight!"

I hung up the phone, while John climbed into bed. "You take care of George and yourself tomorrow. I can trust you. Just don't let anything get out of hand, y'know."

"Yes, I understand. I know how to handle it," I replied. "You know I can. I will."

"All right, just makin' sure," John said with a smile. He turned off his light, but mine was still on. "And, Pearl?"

"Yes?"

"Well, you know about tomorrow, right?"

"Right, John, I'll be sure to wake you up tomorrow, no problem." I took out my ponytail holder and then brushed my hair.

"I can't understand how you can always wake up so early even when you go to sleep past midnight sometimes. It just boggles the mind."

I sat on John's bed. "Thanks. But you'll be rather busy tomorrow, y'know, and you wouldn't want to be tired. So get some sleep, okay?"

"Okay, I will," John replied. "And thanks for comin' along on the tour with us and makin' it all worthwhile. It means so much to me."

"You're welcome, John. I'm glad I could come. But enough stalling, John. You should be getting to sleep," I said teasingly.

"I will," John replied in the same manner. "Goodnight, Pearl. See you in the mornin'."

"Goodnight, John," I said before I kissed his forehead. I climbed into my own bed and was about to turn off my light when--

"Oh, one more thing."

"Yes, John?"

"I love you, Pearl."

"I love you too, John."