Buyer Beware

Posted on Fri May 5th, 2023 @ 5:49 by Sarah Bright & Mhairi McIntyre

Chapter: All Hallow's Eve
Location: Graeme's Garage, New Cresthill
5808 words - 11.6 OF Standard Post Measure

Sarah walked her bike down New Cresthill's main thoroughfare, wondering how in the hell she was going to get back home. Well, not home, but the place where, for the moment, she was laying her head. Though she was committed to staying at the Avalon Institute, she wasn't sure if she would ever call the place home. In a way the situation felt akin to her boarding school days. She'd lived there, did her studies there, and made friends there, but the place had never felt like home. As for getting back there, a simple phone call would probably do the trick; someone would come to pick her up, right? That or she could try her hand at hitching a ride from one of the many media correspondents lurking in the area, but they might try to get her to 'sing for her supper,' as the saying went. Sarah had nothing to say to any of them. She should've just ridden back with her colleague, just like how she'd gotten there in the first place, but of course she'd been stubborn. That and misguided in her faith that this new bicycle would be able enough for the conveyance.

With regards to her current predicament, the librarian couldn't blame anyone but herself, really. The family that had listed the bike in the local paper's classifieds had been forthright in saying that it hadn't been ridden in two years.Their son had used it for his paper route, and had taken good care of it, but he'd since moved off to college and the bike had sat idle in those intervening years. Apparently the design, along with the front basket and rear rack that had served him so well as a paperboy were no longer 'cool for school,.' so he'd left it behind. It really was a nice looking bike, and the basket and rack were perfect for her. The only thing Sarah didn't like was the top crossbar. She tended to wear skirts more often than not, and while the men's crossbar style wouldn't prove an issue with the shorter skirts she wore, it would keep her from getting on and off the thing with as much modesty as she would like.

Overall it was a really nice bike. And she'd bought it at a really nice price. But five minutes into her ride the chain seized and one of the tires went flat.

Sarah sighed heavily as she half-dragged the bike along and ruminated on her predicament. She didn't even know if there was a bicycle shop in town, and if there was, with her luck they probably wouldn't be open as late it was on a Saturday afternoon. She could always ask someone, but Sarah's morale was low enough as it was. She wasn't looking forward to getting heckled by locals for being 'that stupid American tourist.' Her re-mastery of the finer intricacies of Received Pronunciation was a work in progress, at best.

Then, as Sarah rounded the corner, she saw it... not a bicycle shop, not a hardware store, but the next best thing, an automotive garage. But would it be open? She could only pray that it was.

The large garage doors that lead into the main repair bay of the shop was almost always rolled up. People in the town knew to go to the upstairs residency if nobody was in the shop itself. Luckily for Sarah the small office off to the side also had a high likelihood of someone being present. It just so happened that Mhairi had been doing admin stuff as they neared the end of the month there was always Her Majesty's Revenue & Customs that came knocking for their 'fair share'. After completing the rather small amount of work needed she had leaned back in the chair, put her feet on the desk, and dozed off until such time that her services would be required once more.

Life in New Cresthill was a stark contrast with her time in Africa. It had been working hard, 12 hour days, scorching sun beating down on her. Here she lazily fixed an old Beetle, filed some receipts in the right folders, perhaps a call or two to try and get new parts, the search for the American parts continued for her friends over at Avalon. There was quite a bit of time to put her legs up, and as such the daughter of the garage owner was happily dozing off when the sound of heels on the concrete floor echoes across the large mostly empty room.

When making her way over she could tell that it was someone new immediately, and the attire seemed to indicate that she was part of a boarding school, although the colours seemed a bit off compared to some of the students she had seen around the town. "Good afternoon, what can I do to help you, miss?"

"Oh... hey." Sarah said after a moment, seemingly spellbound. As hard as she tried to be a forward-minded thinker, sometimes she couldn't help but find herself clinging to the same old stereotypes like everyone else. Upon entering the garage, she'd been expecting to find a mechanic in the form of a crusty man in coveralls with grease up to his elbows. Instead she found herself face-to-face with an attractive woman that looked close to her own age. Sarah couldn't tell if she was the mechanic by looks alone, but she didn't look like she just worked in the office either.

Sarah had also been distracted by the echoing sounds of her shoes in the sparely outfitted office. No matter the situation or decision, for her it seemed like ill-fated choices in footwear were starting to become a recurring theme. Against all common sense she'd worn her pumps for her foray into town to buy the bike, mainly to make sure she could pedal the thing while wearing them, just in case, and partly because she wanted to. But after her troubles with the bike she hadn't found anywhere convenient to sit and swap them out for the sneakers in her satchel bag. That was the trouble with small towns... very few benches, bus stops, or other random places to sit. She certainly wasn't going to change her shoes sitting on some random person's doorstep!

"I'm having some bike trouble." Sarah said, gesturing outside, where she had left it leaning up against the building. It had a kickstand, but she wasn't in the mood to risk scratching her pumps trying to use it, if it was rusted up like everything else. "Tire went flat and it just kind of seized up on me." Sarah shrugged, completely forgetting to make the distinction that she was talking about a bicycle, and not a motorcycle. But then again, by the looks of her it should've been an easy guess. Sensible women usually didn't ride any sort of cycle wearing heels if they could avoid it, especially one that had to be kick-started. If anything, Sarah looked like a scooter gal, but no one would call a scooter a bike.

Mhairi frowned a bit at the explanation. If the chain seized and the tire went flat, in the outfit she was wearing, a motorcycle would've left little of her to collect on the asphalt. She stepped outside to find the bicycle leaning up against the wall. "That's wee Anderson's bike, int it?" She grab the thing and pulled it into the shop, normally people with bicycle issues went to the bike shop in the centre of town but she'd already realised from the outfit, the accent and the fact that they looked utterly lost, that this wasn't a local and trying to explain exactly what alley to walk down to find it would be too much trouble anyway. "I'm guessing he dinnae put it back in the shed after being finished with his last route." She then looked back at the young woman, "you work up in Avalon?"

"Aye, I'm the school's librarian." Sarah said, finding the mechanic's accent a bit more intelligible than some of the other locals she'd met so far. She'd never really been to Scotland before now, so a lot of the slang and accent variations were unfamiliar to her. but she'd grown up far enough up north to encounter many Scots in England. Maybe she would pick up the accent, given enough time, maybe not. As for Avalon, she felt that there was little point in lying about working there, even if it might make people less friendly toward her. She would no doubt be in town from time to time, and people could already tell that she wasn't from there. Lying about her affiliations with the school wasn't going to do anyone any favors, and would just make the locals suspicious about what she had to hide.

Now fairly certain that there was no bike shop in town, Sarah followed the mechanic and her bike back inside, convinced that she'd made the right decision in stopping there. If there was a bike shop, she would've been sent there, right? Also, the woman acted like she'd seen this bike before, and even knew the last owner's name. As she took a few moments to unpack what had been said, she came to another realization that was not as reassuring.

"Wee Anderson's off to university now. Or so his family said..." Sarah trailed off for a moment. "Oh dear, I've bought a lemon, haven't I?"

Mhairi shrugged a bit, "not necessarily. But something in the citrus family at least." She lifted the bike into two hooks that were suspended from the ceiling, it brought the bikechain up to eye level. "It's just that gears and chains don't necessarily like the Scottish brand of summer." The mechanic looked at the rusted chain and gears and tried to determine if it was just a matter of oiling it back up or if the chain needed to be completely replaced. "So, what kind of books do you have in an institute like Avalon?"

"Oh... you know, just... regular books." Sarah said, totally phoning in the answer due to being mesmerized by the sight of a pretty woman showing her how a job was done. Thankfully she was quick to realize how distracted she was, and was quick to pull herself together before the mechanic noticed her staring. "School texts and supplements, mainly. Most of the newer books cover math, sciences and technology. We've got most of the literary classics, and a number of history texts, but they're older. Everyone knows that scientific and technical knowledge changes constantly, but its harder to convince the folks holding the purse strings that the way we see history changes too." Sarah shrugged. "Some modern young adult fiction too. The kind of books you'd see at any other school library."

Realizing that she was rambling, Sarah cut her list short, and looked around for a place to sit so that she could change her shoes. She didn't know if her bike was going to be a quick fix or not, but she knew she was done trying to ride it in heels. Her conclusion? Technically possible, but not recommended. The best place she could find to sit was a stack of new tires. Or at least they looked new. Everything else looked either rough enough to shred her tights, or potentially grimy. The librarian had yet to appreciate that this was her first time in a garage, really. She'd always been very diligent about getting her car serviced, but she'd never strayed past the waiting room. Actually, come to think of it, she'd never spent much time in the waiting room either. She'd always either made other arrangements for transportation, or had simply hired a taxi.

Setting down her bag, Sarah sat on the edge of the stack of tires--a decision that was met with immediate regret. She knew that tires were firm enough to support a vehicle, but those tires were inflated and mounted on rims. The ones she'd decided to sit on were not. Her bum slid into the empty doughnut hole, which was fairly deep with it being a stack of three (with the fourth on the adjacent mounting machine). Unfortunately for Sarah, she was just small enough to find herself becoming an almost manageable meal for the rubbery pit of doom.

"Oooof." Sarah said quietly, half the wind knocked out of her. Plus she was way too embarrassed to cry out. She was hoping to wriggle her way out of her current predicament before the mechanic turned and saw her being eaten by a stack of tires. Unfortunately for her, all her wriggling kicked a shoe loose, which clattered half the distance towards where Mhairi was working.

With a start Mhairi looked around and immediately saw how Sarah had bundled herself up in a stack of tires. "Eh." She slowly walked over towards the self proclaimed librarian before folding her arms in front of her chest and looking down at her predicament. "Is this like, your thing? Extreme bad luck? Or is that just a nice like bonus?" She couldn't prevent the corners of her mouth from curling up as she saw the young woman struggle to try and regain her footing. After leaving her flail for a bit she extended a hand. "Come, hen."

"Something like that." Sarah replied as she struggled to free herself, paying no mind to the mechanic who seemed to be amused by the sight. And who wouldn't be? Though some people truly did have bad luck when it came to a lot of things in life, for the most part Sarah felt that saying someone was unlucky was just a more polite way of saying that they were an idiot. And in this instance, as with many others, people would've been right in calling her that. Sarah was an idiot, and most of her misfortunes stemmed from a habit of poor decision making. She should've just asked the mechanic if there was somewhere to sit for moment to change her shoes, but nooo....

Granted, Sarah learned her lessons quickly now and would probably not make the same mistake twice, but there were still many other mistakes out there to be made.

As much as she tried, Sarah could not free herself. Her butt was good and stuck in the tire, and it felt like the more she tried to free herself, the more indecent a sight she became... a case in point of why she almost always wore tights. So when the mechanic finally decided to offer a helping hand, Sarah was quick to take it.

Even with assistance Sarah found freeing herself no easy feet. In fact, the tire more or less came off of the stack before she was able to pull herself out of it. She considered trying to be courteous by putting the tire back onto the stack, but feared she'd probably done enough damage for one day. Plus, with one heel being four inches higher off the ground than the other, it was all she could do just to keep the tire from rolling away and causing some other calamity.

"I uhh... need some place to sit for a moment, to change my shoes before something else happens." Sarah said, trying very hard to avoid looking at the now-shorter stack of two tires, which still looked like the most convenient place to sit.

Mhairi pointed over her shoulder, "There's several actual seats to choose from in the office." it was mentioned as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, which it probably was. chairs weren't really needed in the garage section of an actual garage, where people were always leaning into cars, or laying under them. "I'll replace your chain, I think I might have a spare one, the gears are still good. I'll have to replace the entire tire, though. Front one too. They are worn to the thread." With some force she pulled the seized up chain loose from where it had driven itself off the rear axle gear and got itself stuck in between. "Do I just send the bill up to Avalon, or is this a personal purchase?"

Sarah winced and looked down at the floor as Mhairi gave her a perfectly obvious answer. Of course there were chairs in the office, Sarah had seen them. She just hadn't been keen on heading back there unbidden. Some establishments were rightfully touchy about new customers entering their office unsupervised, and given that she was new to the community Sarah had been trying to be on her best behavior.

The librarian's wince sharpened with each added detail on the mechanic's list of needed repairs. Both tires? Worn to the thread? They had looked perfectly fine when she'd inspected them! But of course even at a distance they looked like trash now. Then she noticed the black stripe on the ground, just wide enough to have been left by a bicycle tire.

"Is that shoe polish? They put shoe polish on the tires? Those @#$%!" Sarah usually strove to behave as a proper lady in thought, speech and deed, but this was one instance where she chose not to meet the standard. She then looked at Mhairi, who had to have noticed the black stripe on the floor of her garage. Had she really not noticed, or had she not wished to voice her reassessment of the bike's particular citrus variety? Or had Sarah stumbled right into some elaborate plot cooked up the townspeople of New Cresthill, to milk the folks of Avalon out of their coin?

"Grrah!" Sarah growled and wanted to stomp her foot, but it was still very evident that one was much taller than the other. For a moment she thought about putting the other heel back on first, but then considered the grime her bare foot had already picked up from the shop floor. Much better to transfer that onto her already-grimy sneakers, than her much nicer pumps. She kicked off her remaining heeled shoe then picked up the pair of them before stomping... errm, padding off in her stockinged feet. She didn't get far before remembering that her sneakers were in her bag next to the stack of tires.

"Personal purchase!" Sarah called out as she once again moved to the office to change her shoes.

Mhairi got to work on the bike to get it back up into working order. While they were a car garage first and foremost there were enough people that also stopped by for bike repairs that they stocked some of the more common items. Sarah had been lucky that the tire had been a bog standard sized one. "Supplies and work it's about 20 quid." She checked to make sure that was something the woman was willing to pay for the repairs, "but then it'll be like new."

Sarah had found a seat in the office when Mhairi informed her about the cost. It was definitely reasonable. More than reasonable, given that she'd showed up at an automotive garage during the weekend, and would probably be getting same-day repairs. It wasn't that that annoyed her, it was that some people really didn't seem to care how badly they screwed someone over when it came to getting what they saw as junk off their hands. It wasn't about the money. The bike owners had clearly been clueless about what the bike was really worth. She'd paid 20 quid. With new tires and a little work it would've been worth ten times as much, easy. But they couldn't be bothered taking it down the bike shop, who probably would've given them four times what she'd paid for it. Instead they coated the worn tires in shoe polish and sold it for next to nothing, just to get rid of it quick, and the rest, as they say, was history. She could've gotten really hurt!.

After hearing the cost of the work, Sarah raised up a hand with a thumbs up. She hoped that the mechanic would see. She was trying to calm herself down, and the last thing she wanted to to was have to yell a reply loud enough for the other woman to hear her. She made quick work of donning her sneakers, and tended to keep the laces tied loose for just that purpose. As for her fancy heels, she put them in equally fancy shoe bags to keep them from getting scuffed, then stuck them in her satchel. She tried to hurry back in, just to make sure the mechanic wasn't just polishing her bike instead of fixing it--not that she really believed that, but so far it had been that kind of day.

Returning to the garage bay, Sarah pulled out her coffee thermos and poured some into the cap-cup stored atop it. The cafe down the street had good vanilla coffee, and hadn't even blinked when she'd asked them to pour a double serving into her thermos to-go. She saw a support column for an engine lift nearby and looked for buttons or switches,. Finding none, she gently tested it to make sure it wouldn't topple, before resting her back against it. Some might have called Sarah lurking, and some might have found it annoying, but wasn't in a terrible hurry, and wasn't even watching all that closely really. She just didn't feel like sitting in the office alone. If anything, she projected a relaxed aura, as that was what she was focused on.

"Won't be long. If you want you can take a stroll about town." Mhairi didn't mind people watching over her shoulder, her time in Africa had taught her to deal with that. A white woman fixing your tractor was a sure fire way for local farmers to attract some attention from the nearby village. She continued to work and when she realised that Sarah wasn't intent on taking another walk around New Cresthill. "What brought you to Avalon? Have abilities of your own?" She then stopped what she was doing and looked over her shoulder, "I'm sorry. I'm not sure if I'm supposed to ask, or if it's personal. Ignore that if you want."

Sarah had considered taking a walk, but was feeling a bit lazy. Plus she would have a long ride ahead of her pedaling back to the institute once her bicycle was repaired. She reasoned it would probably be best to conserve her energy until she finished the trial run and figured out how difficult the ride would be. The thought had occurred to Sarah that staying to watch the repairs might lead to small talk, and that the hot topic would invariably be her involvement with Avalon. After all, everyone town seemed to know about it. So in some way Sarah had been expecting the questions Mhairi asked her, and had been thinking on an answer. But again, she realized that expecting, and being prepared for the questions were two different things.

"Aye, I'm a mind reader." Sarah said simply, with a wink that could only be described as mischievous. She couldn't actually read minds, and even casual adherents of logic and adepts of the obvious would feel confident in the belief that she was full of shit... mainly because of her reason for being there. One would think a mind reader would know when she was purchasing an item that was not as advertised. She couldn't say why she chose that particular lie. Maybe because it sounded more appealing than what Mhairi had said earlier--extreme bad luck.

Slowly Mhairi's eyebrow quirked up, it was abundantly clear that there were a lot of thoughts going through her mind, even for those not able to read them. Like all of the people currently in the garage. "So, was there some ethical reason you didn't screen the Anderson's when they sold you this nail?"

"Well... yeah. There's the whole ethics thing, of course." Sarah said nonchalantly with a shrug, continuing the ruse. "But mostly because its hard, and not worth using over twenty quid. Now if you'd brought out the whole dog and pony show trying to sell me that Morris Marina coupe you've got for sale outside, then well... it'd be on." Sarah said with a sly smile, throwing in some mystical hand flourishing for emphasis, though that made her look less like a mind reader, and more like a flamboyant casino magician.

Mhairi shrugged a bit, not sure if she was ready to believe the young woman had powers of mind reading, but not really in a position to question it either. "If you're interested I can always pony up." She looked over her shoulder to try and spot the car on the lot. They only had a few second hand cars and never really did much work to sell them, the margins were too low to be worth the effort. But it was good to have them in case one of the locals needed one, or if a kid got their license. Some of the cars had been in the town, passed from one family to the next, for years. "Your bike won't fit in the boot, though." After finishing her work on the bike chain she had now moved on to replacing the tires, not mentioning that the bike would probably last her longer than a Morris Marina anyway.

"I'll come by another day, take a closer look. Maybe bring someone for a second opinion. I ah... know a guy." The latter bit was definitely voiced in a manner that carried little in the way of confidence. Did she really know a guy? Or was she the type who routinely mentioned some imaginary foreign boyfriend who was very real, but conveniently never around? In actuality she just didn't really know if the guy in question--Avalon's tech specialist--could be bothered to take time out of his day to help her go used car shopping.

As for the car, Sarah had only mentioned it specifically because she thought it was the cutest car in the lot. She had a thing for frumpy coupes, and the Marina was definitely that. It was a dull black, sun-bleached and lightly dented, with a rag-top sunroof that more than likely leaked. The only thing she knew about the Marina was that it had a dreadfully poor reputation... quite possibly one of the worst cars in Britain, which in her mind only gave it a certain bad-boy allure. Mainly she just wanted to see the look on her wealthy grandparents faces when they saw her pull up in it. Sarah was not gaudy or ostentatious, no... she often embraced the lesser-known aspect of rich snobbery: dabbling in plebeian indulgences simply to get a rise out of other rich snobs.

"Feel free to bring whomever by you feel is needed to make the right decision. It'll probably still be here." Mhairi was clearly not interested in talking up the car in any way, mostly because she was not looking forward to the whole 'getting it ready for sale' check-up that her father always included in a sale. It was the reputation that brought people back in a town like this, and Graeme's was a place you could always be sure that what you bought was in the best shape of its life.

Putting tires on a bike was a piece of cake, especially compared to some of the car tires that always seemed to struggle against being put on a rim. Mhairi had unceremoniously cut away the old tires, not wanting to bother with delicately taking them off for the chance of repairing them. The rubber was old and worn, it was pointless. "It'll just be a minute." She always hated placing rear tires the most when it came to bikes, the chains and gears were always in the way and this one was a multi-gear one which after loosening and bolting back on the rear axle she'd have to align again. It wasn't much work, just tedious. "You know, I wouldn't mind an ability that would allow me to more easily do these sorts of things."

"I wouldn't mind actually being able to read minds." Sarah said, finally admitting the truth... though of course not the whole truth. "Be careful what you wish for though." Sarah added, feigning caution. "Would make your work faster, but you could just as easily bend a chassis the moment you get flustered prying out a stripped bolt. Plus I've heard some of the more physical-based powers require some really crazy food intake. You might get a lot of cool shit done, but you'll also double your grocery bill... that and the time you spend at the dinner table." Sarah didn't really know how true that was, but she had heard and observed enough of the goings on at Avalon to know it was a reasonable approximation of the truth.

"I was more thinking moving things with my mind. Would be nice to have an extra hand." Mhairi reached up to lift the bike off the hooks and put it back on the ground. She turned and presented the newly threaded bike to Sarah, getting closer to the woman she spoke in a softer tone. "Don't ever feel like you need to present yourself as something you're not. Not in this town, not in life." She pushed the bike a bit closer to her, holding on to just the saddle now. "And if anyone ever gives your trouble, tell them they'll have to answer to Mhairi McIntyre." She didn't have much pull, but in this town her name at least carried enough weight to shut most people up. Aside from the people it pissed off. But those weren't the kind of people you'd want to hang out with anyway. At least according to her humble opinion.

"Oh..." Sarah said, trailing off and distracted by her now-repaired bicycle being presented to her. Her distraction only mounted as the bike was pushed closer her way. Was Mhairi referring to being a mutant? Or was she talking about the... other thing? For a moment Sarah was tempted to try and use her mutant powers to find out, but the whole ethics debate stood in her way. She was trying to turn a new leaf.

After what seemed like an eternity of fumbling through questionable logic--though it had only been a few moments--Sarah came to the uncertain conclusion that Mhairi was talking about being a mutant. If the mechanic was in fact giving her a pep talk on being an openly gay woman in New Cresthill, she was... well, whatever the talk, she was not walking the walk. The librarian was not getting any flirty lady vibes from her. Unless Sarah was simply not her type. But then again, that was understandable, given how easily she'd been bested by a stack of tires. She couldn't fault Mhairi for wanting a more formidable companion.

Whatever the case, Sarah was grateful for the absence of clear temptation. She was already more or less committed to plotting, scheming, and well... mostly brooding about her current predicament: navigating the perils of finding love in the workplace. That seemed daunting enough, without the added challenge of it being gay love in a boarding school workplace. She did not need the added drama of a love triangle. She'd tried that before, and it wasn't worth it. Plus, and again, she was trying to turn a new leaf.

"I certainly will, Mayor McIntyre." Sarah said with an awkward smile, as she realized that she didn't really know if communities in Scotland even had mayors, or called it by something else. Bright's Fifth Rule for Success: Got an awkward moment? Own it and find a way to profit from it. Even if said profit was only a laugh.

"Well if anyone mentions that new swindlee in town with the fake accent and killer heels, tell them its not Sarah Bright." The librarian said with a straight face as she loaded her satchel into the bike's front basket. But not before opening the bag and producing her trusty and now somewhat dented thermos. Oh, and her purse. "Coffee before the road? Its from the cafe down the street." Sarah said, offering Mhairi a cup of the one and only true brew.

"No thanks, the old man seems to think I can only do a proper job if I'm fueled by poorly brewed garage coffee." Mhairi pointed over her shoulder in the direction of the office where a twelve year old coffee machine was their only supply of caffeine. "Have a nice bike ride back." She gave a bit of a wave and smile before making her way back over to where she had been seated when Sarah had arrived determined to catch up on the nap she just missed for twenty bucks that she actually forgot to cash in. She'd just add it to the tab of Avalon or have Cameron sort it out.

Sarah very much wanted to offer her sympathies, upon hearing of Mhairi's plight. Garage coffee sounded dreadful. And it certainly didn't help that virtually all the accumulations of dirt and debris that Sarah saw in the garage looked just like coffee grounds and slurry. She shuddered at the thought of the taste of such a foul brew. But empathy was not always Sarah's strong suit, and her expression of sympathy looked far more like straight-up pity as she returned the smile and waved goodbye. But the mechanic didn't get to see it, as her back was already turned as she returned to the office, apparently forgetting all about the receiving payment for services rendered bit. Was the offered coffee too much of a temptation? Or had Sarah said or done something wrong? Of course she didn't know that the mechanic simply didn't want coffee because she wanted to nap.

For a moment the librarian stood there, confused about what to do, and still very stunned by Mhairi's taste in coffee... however involuntary it may be. Putting away her coffee thermos, she opened her purse and pulled out the agreed upon sum. She waved it in the air, hoping the mechanic might somehow see it, then stuck it under the wrench she had been using last. After that Sarah decided it would be best to get on her way before something else went wrong. As she rode up to curb and to prepared to turn onto the street, the librarian, still very much stuck in American driving habits, looked the wrong way first as she started rolling, and scared some poor driver half to death.

At least she was headed back in the right direction back to the school. Probably.