They found the Lord Mayor playing his cello in his usual spot. He didn't seem to acknowledge the Beatles when they crowded around him, watching him intently.

George felt horrible, having cried the entire night. His eyes were puffy and tired and he just felt like crawling off into a hole and never coming back out.

The Lord Mayor paused his playing for a moment and John took that as an opportunity. He rubbed his hands together and leaned down, speaking in a thick Scouse accent. "Keeps you busy, aye?"

"Indeed!" the Lord Mayor said in a creaking voice that was probably older than the hills. He began to move his bow toward the cello again to resume his playing, but John continued.

"Can we speak with you for a minute, Mayor?"

"What?" the Mayor asked in a voice that was neither annoyed nor enthusiastic.

"What can you tell us about the law?" Paul asked. "The one involving Blue Meanies and people . . . "

"Say that again," the Mayor said, craning his ear in their direction. Paul made a slightly annoyed sound in his throat and repeated it. "Ah, the law." He was silent again.

"Can you tell us about it?" Ringo asked. "Why was it passed anyway?"

"Why does it concern you?" the Mayor asked.

They all looked at George.

"Ah, I see," the Mayor said, scratching his chin. "He's fallen for one, has he?" They didn't say anything. "Well, tell him to stop falling."

"Why was it passed?" George asked, voice filling with anger.

The Mayor sighed and hummed to himself. "Because we got scared. We discovered that kissing a Blue Meanie would mean that you would turn into one yourself, and we didn't want that, so the law was passed. End of story."

"What if someone wanted to be a Blue Meanie?" George countered.

The Lord Mayor burst out laughing. He even started smacking his knee. Wiping a tear from his eye, he said, "I don't know why anyone in their right mind would want to do that!" He then went into a laughing fit again.

George glared daggers at him, but the Mayor wasn't paying attention. Paul noticed George's look, however, and suddenly grew nervous. He grabbed George's arm and started to haul him away. "Um, well, Lord Mayor, we'd better get going."

The Mayor didn't say anything, just started playing his cello again.

* * *

"George, where are you going?" Ringo asked when he caught George sneaking out of their house.

"I need to go get some air," George replied. "I've been in here too long. Need to go look at the flowers and things."

"Mind if I come with you?" Ringo asked, walking toward him.

"Yes," George said without hesitation.

Ringo stopped and blinked. "Well, aren't you in a fine mood?"

"I am, thank you," George said and slipped out the door. He felt a little bad for being so short with Ringo, but he needed to get this done. He was sure he was doing the right thing.

He finally made it to Pattie's house and studied it for a few moments. Hmm. Two floors. Which room was Pattie's? The sun had set by this time and there were a few lights in the windows. He backed up a few paces and stood on the tips of his toes to see if he could see who was in the rooms on the second floor. The first window wasn't Pattie's because he could see someone else in there. He went to the second window with a light on and could see her writing something at her desk.

There was a drainpipe that went right by her window. George hadn't climbed many drainpipes in his day, but he'd try.

He fell at least four times.

He had twigs and leaves stuck in his hair when he finally made it to her window. He knocked tiredly on the glass, legs and arms wobbling with exhaustion. Pattie came to the window and pushed it up, screaming when she looked over and saw him.

"Shh!" George hissed. "Don't attract attention!" He peered into her room and then looked at her. She had curlers in her hair and she didn't have any makeup on. Maybe he'd come at a bad time. "May I come in?"

"George, this is dangerous," she said.

"What— climbing up a drainpipe or seeing you?"

"Both."

"Please let me in. I'm going to fall."

"Oh, all right," she said and helped him crawl in. He sat on the floor with his back against the wall, eyes scanning the room. Pattie sat beside him, picking the leaves and twigs from his hair.

"Did you fall in the bushes or something?" she asked, trying to hide her smile.

"I did," he said bitterly. "Who puts shrubbery below a drainpipe that's meant for someone to climb up?"

"When my dad had the gardeners plant those there he never thought someone would be climbing up the drainpipe," Pattie said with a giggle.

"I'm glad you find this humorous," George said.

"I'm sorry," she said, gently pulling the last leaf from his hair.

There was a few moments of silence before George turned to her and said, "Kiss me."

"What?" Pattie asked, blue eyes growing wide.

"You heard me," he said, inching closer. "Please kiss me."

"George, I . . . I . . . can't," she said. "It would turn you into— "

"I know, I know," he said, taking her hand. "The Lord Mayor told me. But I want to be a Blue Meanie, Pattie. Just please kiss me."

"I can't do that to you," she said, pulling her hand away and turning her face to the side.

"Do what to me?" he asked. "I want it. I want it, Pattie. Please." He attempted the puppy-dog eyes that he'd seen Paul use too many times to count. Maybe batting his eyelashes would help. Worth a shot. He fluttered his lashes.

Pattie couldn't help but giggle at how awkwardly cute he was. "George, you think you want it, but you don't."

"I don't just want to be a Blue Meanie for a bash, Pats," he said. "I want it because then I could be with you." He looked down and started to play with her fingers.

"George, you just met me," she said with a bitter laugh.

"But I know I . . . love you."

"Shh!" Pattie cried. "Don't say it if you don't mean it!"

Anger filled his voice. "But I do mean it, Pattie!"

"No, you don't," she said in a sad way. "You just think you do. You don't know me."

"Well, then, let me know you," he begged. "Tell me about yourself."

Pattie sighed.

"Please."

Pattie began to tell him small quirks about herself, like how she tore the crust off her toast and how she couldn't stand the sound of styrofoam being rubbed together. George listened intently to everything she had to say. When she was finished, there was a long silence.

"I still love you," he said.

Pattie acted as if she didn't hear him say that. "Now tell me about you."

"Well, my favorite color is purple," he said. "And I've got ears that stick out like Dumbo's." He pulled his long hair back so she could look at them. "Grotty, aren't they?"

"No," she said. "They're adorable!"

"Ha," he said flatly, pushing his hair back so she couldn't see them.

"No, I mean it!" she said, trying to get a look at them again by moving his hair. "Your hair is so soft!"

George blushed slightly, but kept her gaze. Their faces were close now. He started to lean in slowly and Pattie hesitated a little before closing her eyes and falling into the kiss. George slowly started to inch his tongue into her mouth when he heard the singsong voice of her father.

"Pattie!" he said from outside the door. "Dinner is ready! Your mother made your favorite! Fish and chips!"

Pattie panicked and pushed George away, pointing for him to go out the window. She mouthed, "Leave." He didn't say anything, just hurriedly climbed out the window, and tried to slide down the drainpipe but ended up falling into the shrubs again. Pattie heard the commotion and looked down to see if he was all right and then shut her window.

George stood up, brushed himself off, and began to run back to the house. He looked down at his arm and thought he saw a slight blue tinge but thought it was just his eyes playing tricks on him. It couldn't happen that fast.