Things We Said Today
Disclaimer: I don't own The Beatles (oh, the things I would do to them if I did…) but Brookelyn, Rosemary, Charlotte, and Valerie are my own creations.
Chapter One: Misery
Brookelyn, Rosemary, Charlotte and Valerie: four young adults waiting until the moment they can finally celebrate their eighteenth birthdays and leave the adoption agency they were raised at. Add a few plot twists, secrets, and Beatles, and there you have it… a very interesting story…
If Brookelyn was to have any wish in the world, it would be to leave the adoption centre immediately. She had been counting the days in her head since she was ten years old. Now, on the 8th August, 1963 there were just fifty-two days until she was eighteen years old and could finally leave. It seemedunbearable.
Of course, there would be a problem if she left. Rosemary wasn't turning eighteen until November, Charlotte's eighteenth birthday was in June next year, and Valerie was still only sixteen. Maybe Brookelyn could get a job, as a cook or a cleaner. Valerie was her little sister. She couldn't just leave her.
If Brookelyn could stand another two years in this prison.
She'd miss Charlotte and Rosemary a lot too. They'd become her best friends, her only friends in this hell-hole. They were they only girls their age living in the agency. Charlotte was a pretty, Asian girl, with dark, straight, shoulder-length hair and gorgeous brown almond-shaped eyes. Rosemary had long waves of red hair cascading down her back, with wide grey eyes. Brookelyn and Valerie looked alike – same mouth, same nose, same facial shape, same figure – except for Brookelyn's platinum locks and electric blue eyes, and Valerie's brown curls and bright green eyes. Brooke wasn't sure who Val had inherited her looks from – Brookelyn's mother had blonde hair and her father had ginger hair. It felt weird thinking about her parents. They were a distant figure of the past… their death was something that Brookelyn and Valerie had not mourned, it was something they had moved on with – which was something the girls felt extremely guilty about. In a way, though, they'd never been parents. They were just two people looking after them.
"Brookelyn!" Valerie hissed in the darkness. Her younger sister was standing above Brookelyn, dark hair shadowing her face.
Brookelyn looked up at her. "Val!" Brookelyn whispered back. "I didn't know you were awake. It's gone eleven."
"Shuffle over," Valerie told her, lifting up the blankets. Brookelyn was hesistant, biting her lip – if the two were caught, that could mean trouble. The agency was very strict on its curfew rules and guidelines. But, as always, Brookelyn complied and moved over. Valerie slipped into the bed beside her.
"Hey, Brookelyn," Valerie whispered. "I was thinking…"
"Did it hurt much?" Brookelyn asked jokingly.
Brookelyn could just make out a glare on Valerie's face through the darkness.
"We should leave."
"Yeah," Brookelyn snorted. "We've got a few years to go yet."
"Screw the adoption agency's poxy rules!" Valerie rolled her eyes.
"It's not just the adoption agency's rules, it's the law, Val. We're not eighteen yet –"
"Fine. Don't leave with me. I'll just convince Charlotte," Valerie told her sister as she lifted the sheets up and got out of bed.
Brookelyn froze. Despite Charlotte being much older, Valerie could easily wind Charlotte around her little finger. Actually, Val could had that effect on a lot of people.
"Val, no! It's not that long until we can leave, anyhow."
"Not long until you leave! I'll still have two years! Two years of waiting here, alone."
"Valerie…" Brookelyn started. Val cut her off.
"It's not fair. I just… I don't want to be here anymore…" Val told her despairingly, trailing off into desperate tears.
Brookelyn tried to hug her younger sister, but Valerie just pushed her away, leaving Brookelyn with a sour taste in her mouth.
"Leave me alone," Val said fiercely.
Brookelyn sighed, rolling over in her bed. There was no arguing with Valerie when she got like this.
"Aw, come on George, pull the other one!" John Lennon moaned.
"I'm bein' serious," George Harrison answered. "Look, read it yourself," he told John, thrusting a letter in his face.
John held the letter close to his face, squinting hard.
"Ah, for fuck's sake Lennon, wear the bloody glasses," Paul McCartney said, rolling his eyes.
John glared at Paul. "I'm not fuckin' wearin' 'em, for the last time."
"There's nothing wrong –"
Paul was cut off by George. "Here, the letter says, dinner at six PM. EMI's manager wants to talk to us about extended recording time or whatever –"
"Can't he talk to Brian 'bout that sorta stuff, eh?" John asked.
"No, because Brian isn't the one that makes the music," Paul answered bitterly. He wished John would take it a little bit seriously.
Ringo, who had been sitting placidly in his own corner of the studio, started tapping his drum kit lightly. The quiet sounds built up gradually, getting louder and louder.
"Ah, honest to God, Ringo, that sounds bloody awful, go take some drum lessons, will ya?" a pissed-off John demanded.
Ringo stopped instantly. He looked up at Ringo.
There was no apology from John.
"Rings, he doesn't mean it, he's just in a bad mood…"Paul began.
Ringo just shrugged, put the drum sticks on his stool.
John still didn't apologise, even as Ringo walked out of the recording studio.
"And will you all quit complainin'," Ringo said. "Worse things can happen then some dinner at a posh restaurant, y'know."
John glared accusingly at Paul. Paul glared back at John. George sat idly.
"I actually quite liked his drumming," George said.
A/N: So yeah, that's the first chapter… please leave a review, I know it's not great but tips on improvement would be very appreciated too. I'll try update ASAP!