The Beatles were going to be touring England in October. Knowing that made me feel even more alone, seeing as George would be incredibly busy and unreachable. I gave him the number to La Scarla, and the number to Greg’s apartment.
Epona convinced me to dye my hair brown to conceal my identity. I refused until she absolutely swore that it was temporary. I also cut a few inches off and gave myself short bangs. Wearing glasses once more, I felt like a former High School classmate named Ella. My charmed life echoed through my memory, reminding me that I’d been somewhat of a bully to a few randomly chosen girls my age. I wished I could apologize to them now.
We took a late bus to Cleveland, Ohio. The trip was mostly uneventful, but I hardly slept. My mind was racing, trying to form a plan. It felt too late to just hand the company over. Why had I been so stubborn? Saying no was what got me in to this mess in the first place. On the other hand, a small part of me ke