Paul was sat on the back steps with John, George and Ringo, kicking at the dirt while the chapel bell went off. Same as every day. They had been here long enough to know the routine by heart.

A car pulled up by the main building. Everyone looked. New guy. Paul watched him get out with his bag, looking a bit lost but trying not to show it.

“That’s the poor sod stuck here next” John muttered.

Paul smirked, still watching. Something about the way he looked around made him stand out. Most lads showed up already beaten down. This one… not yet.