Of course, my older sisters were lucky enough to get normal middle names, but my parents gave me the full Lennon/

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McCartney treatment: Penny Lane. I was even born on February 7 -- the anniversary of the Beatles arriving in the United States for the first time. I didn't believe it was a coincidence. I wouldn't have put it past my mother to have refused to push just so I could be born on that day.

Most of our family vacations were spent in Liverpool, England. Every Christmas card we ever sent had us re-creating various Beatles album covers. Truth be told, I should have bated the Beatles, That should've been my rebellion. But instead, the Beatles became part of me. Whether I was happy or sad, I was comforted by their words, their music.

Now, I tried to drown out Nate's words with a blast of "Help!" While I did, I reached for my journal. The leather-bound book felt heavy in my hands, the years of emotion inside weighing it down. I opened it up and scanned the entries, most of them filled with Beatles lyrics. To anybody else, it would seem like nonsensical associations, but to me, the lyrics meant so much more than their words. Snapshots of my life: the good, the bad, and the boy-related.

So much heartache. I started to scan my past relationships.

Dan Walker, senior and, according to Tracy, a "major hottie." We dated for four months at the beginning of sophomore year. Things started out decent enough -- if your definition of decent was going to the movies and then for pizza every Friday night with every other couple in town. Eventually, Dan started to mistake me for this character in the movie Almost Famous, also named Penny Lane, She was a glorified groupie,

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so Dan got it in his thick head that if he played "Stairway to Heaven" on the guitar, I would give it up. I quickly learned: Looks does not a decent guitar player make. Once Dan realized my pants were staying on, he changed his tune.

Then there was Derek Simpson, who I was pretty sure only dated me because he thought my pharmacist mother could get him drugs.

Darren McWilliams wasn't much better. We started dating right before this summer's Nate-craziness set in. He seemed like a sweet guy, until he started hanging out with Laura Jaworski, who happened to be a good friend of mine. He ended up double booking us for the same day. Little did he realize we would compare our calendars.

Dan, Derek, and Darren -- and that was only sophomore year. I was cheated on, lied to, and used. The lesson I'd learned? To stay away from guys whose first name began with the letter D, since they were all the Devil.

Maybe Nate's real name was Dante the Destroyer of Dreams. Because he was ten times worse than the three Ds combined.

I put the journal down. I was mad at Nate, yes. But mostly I was furious with myself. Why did I let myself do it? What did I get out of any of these relationships besides a broken heart? I was smarter than that, I should've known better.

Did I really want to keep getting used? Was there anybody out there who was worth it?

I'd thought Nate was, but I was wrong.

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I got up to call Tracy --misery needed her company -- when something caught my eye. I went over to my favorite Beatles poster and started to run my fingers across the lettering: Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band.

I'd stared at that poster every day for the past seven years. I'd listened to that album, one of my favorites, hundreds of times. It was like it had always been a single long word to me, Sgt Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band But now three words separated themselves, and I saw something completely new inside Lonely

Hearts

Club

And that's when it happened.

Something about those words.

Lonely. Hearts. Club.

In theory, it may have sounded depressing. But there wasn't anything depressing about the music.

No, this Lonely Hearts Club was the opposite of depress-ing. It was alive.

The answer had been in front of me all along. There was a way to stop getting cheated on, lied to, and used.

I would stop torturing myself by dating loser guys. I would enjoy the benefits of being single. I would, for once, focus on me. Junior year would be my year. It would be all about me, Penny Lane Bloom, sole member and founder of The Lonely Hearts Club.

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21

Come Together

"... you've got to be free ...'

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chapter Four

BOYS WERE DEAD TO ME. The only question was: Why hadn't I thought of this sooner?

I knew the idea was genius. But it would've been nice if my best friend was able to stop looking at me like I was an escapee from a mental institution.

"Pen, you know I love you, but., ."

Here we go.

We were having an emergency meeting (complete with the cheese fries required to get over a breakup) at our local diner, less than an hour after my inspiration hit. Tracy took a sip of her milk shake, taking in my tirade about all the problems guys have caused me over the years. I hadn't even gotten to the part about the club yet and my decision to not date.

"I know you're upset, and you have every reason to be," Tracy said. "But not all guys are evil."

I rolled my eyes. "Oh, really? Should we go through your lists from the last two years?"

Tracy slumped down in her seat. Every year she made a list of guys she wanted to date. She would spend all summer weighing her options before putting the list together for the school year, with each guy ranked in order of preference based on a ratio of looks, popularity, and looks.

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The list definitely caused more heartache than it was worth. Tracy still hadn't been on a date with any of the candidates. In fact, she'd never had a boyfriend. I couldn't figure out why. She was pretty, funny, smart, and one of the most loyal and dependable friends anyone could ask for. But, as if I needed another example of why boys sucked, none of the guys at McKinley seemed to feel she was girlfriend material.

Lucky her, I thought. But she wasn't seeing it that way.

"I don't know what you are talking about," she said.

"Right. So you're telling me you don't have a new list ready for inspection?"

Tracy moved her purse onto the seat next to her.

Of course she had a new list. We only had a few more days before the start of junior year.

"What to the evs," she huffed. "I guess I should just throw the list away since, according to you, all men are jerks."

I smiled. "Now we're getting somewhere. Lets burn it!"

Tracy groaned, "You've clearly lost your mind. Can you be serious for a second?"

"I am being serious,"

Now it was Tracy's turn to roll her eyes. "Come on -- not every single male on this planet is a horrible human being. What about your dad?"

"What about Thomas Grant?" I shot back.

Tracy's mouth dropped open.

Okay, maybe that was a little harsh. Thomas had been on

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last years list. She'd spent an entire semester flirting with him in Chemistry. Finally he'd asked her if she was free one weekend. Tracy had been thrilled . . . until he tested her an hour before they were supposed to meet and told her that something had "come up," Then he'd ignored her the rest of the year. No explanation, no apology nothing.

Typical male.

"And Kevin Parker?" I pressed.

Tracy glared at me. "Well, its not my fault that he doesn't know I exist."

There was always one name on the top of Tracy's list -- Kevin Parker, senior football player extraordinaire. Unfortunately Kevin had never acknowledged that Tracy was even alive. When I'd been dating Derek, I'd invite Kevin and his friends over to my house for the sole purpose of letting Kevin get to know Tracy. But he never paid any attention to her. One of the only reasons I put up with Derek for as long as I did was because Tracy needed her daily Kevin Parker fix.