Alison still had an hour or two left before her babysitter would turn against her and Donnie came home, so she decided it would be best if she took her damaged motorcycle immediately to Childs & Manning. Ramon offerend to help to get the heavy motorbike to the garage, but she sent him home, telling him that it wasn't necessary to come along. Ramon shrugged, said goodbye and walked away, leaving Alison alone with the mechanical beast. She'd only drop off the cycle, go to Felix's to take a quick shower and wash that smelly oil-smell off of her body and return back home. It was a piece of cake, she thought. Until she realised that she could impossibly get the motorcycle at Childs & Manning.

She came to the competition on her motorcycle, but now the engine has exploded, she could never get back home with the motorcycle. She had to go back and hope that one of the mechanics would be a sweetheart and willing to pick her motorcycle up. Alison had to leave her motorcycle behind and she defenitely wasn't comfertable with the idea of leaving it here. She hadn't bought a lock yet to ensure its safety. Everybody could take it, though she doubted if anybody wanted a second-hand motorcycle with a not-working engine.

Alison rubbed the back of her neck and let out a deep sigh as she walked through the croud to find someone who could give her a ride home. Ramon was probably already off again. She kind of wished she hadn't sent Ramon away. He could've helped her, with his network of contacts. He probably knows some guys who could pick us up and bring us home.

She intensively searched for her friend in the croud. Most people were preparing to leave, so it was a big mess of talking people, bodies pressed against eachother to get to their car as fast as possible and haisty footsteps. Alison unknowingly took a few steps towards the croud, eagerly trying to spot Ramon, until she bumped into someone. Shocked and a little affronted she looked at the young woman who just walked into her, blinking surprisingly as she rubbed her painly shoulder.

The girl looked at her with the same hazelish eyes with huge dark circle under them, surrounded by bouncy, blonde curls. Her face had a greyish kind of colour, like she hadn't been out in the sun for a while. Alison straightened her back and placed her hands in front of her, cocking her head a little bit to the left as she took in the woman in front of her. A huge coat with the colour of vomit hung around her tiny shoulders. She could've fitted into it at least twice. The girl wore a bordeaux red shirt with a unicorn and black-and-white striped jeans. Every little inch was odd about her and still, Alison was quite fascinated about her.

"Excuse me," she said, in a heavy foreign accent. "Did I hurt you?"

Alison blinked surpisingly but shook her head. Her ponytail swung to the left and to the right when she moved.

"No, no," she quickly said and turned her eyes to the sky. Her hands automatically went up to her face, her indexfinger stroking her own cheek, when she was nervous, and she was defenitely nervous now. Alison was waiting for the blonde to walk away, but she kept near her and watched her. It made her highly uncomfertable and she avoided her gaze as much as possible.

"You were second?" the girl asked eventually, after a few seconds of gawking. This catched Alison's attention. She moved her hand slowly from her face and frowned her eyebrows slightly.

"Yes..." she said slowly, not sure if she could expect a few tips from a random viewer who thinks she can do better or being laughed at because of her crappy motor. She narrowed her eyes a bit.

But instead of harsh words, the woman began to smile. It wasn't the prettiest smile she had seen, it was almost like she barely ever smiled and it took her a hard time to even try, but it reassured her.

"Where is motorcycle?" she asked, tilting her head to the left like a puppy.

"It's broken... The engine wasn't strong enough, I have to get it to the garage."

"Can you get home?" she immediately asked, blinking innocent. "If not, I can bring you."

Alison gulped. This girl was as innocent as a child, if she was in a good mood. The unmatching clothes, the nervous playing with her fingers and the looking to the ground all showed that she was kind of nervous to talk to Alison, though there was nothing to be afraid of. Many people were very nice to point out she was too tiny to even harm someone and most people weren't even impressed by her. But the nervosity of the girl didn't feel like she was afraid to get hurt, more like she was afraid Alison wouldn't like her.

"I don't even know your name," Alison protested, her voice sqeakingly.

The girl shrugged.

"Helena. What's your name?"

Alison blinked. She expected a whole other kind of reply, but she played along, took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.

"Alison," she said. Helena smiled insecure and nodded.

"You still want to go home? I have motorcycle, I can bring you."

Alison doubted if she should trust this Helena and go with her. She didn't even know her. Helena could take her to an alley and hurt her and cut her. But something about her comforted Alison. It was like she was able of so much, but would never dare to hurt Alison.

"Okey then," she said. Helena started to grin and bounced up and down.

"I'm gonna get the motor," she said, as she ran off. The blonde curls blended with the croud as Helena pushed all the people in front of her to get as soon as possible to her own motorcycle. It took her a few minutes to get back at Alison. She noticed sadly that Helena's motor was even prettier than hers, but she didn't complain. After a visit at the garage hers would probably shine as well, so she had nothing to complain about.

Helena stepped on her motorcycle and signed her to hop on as well. Alison quickly glanced left and right, making sure no one saw her hopping on a motorcycle of a strange, weird foreign girl. But after a second or two she realised nobody who actually knew her would be here, at a dragrace for motorcyclists, so she could go with Helena without gossips spreading through her neighbourhood.

Helena waited as she put on her helmet. Once Alison sat behind her on her motorbike, she blonde gave her a helmet as well.

"I like going fast," she said as she made the powerful engine roar, louder than Alison's motor ever had done, and raced off the parklot. The few people who clutched together, loudly talking about the just finished race, recoiled when Helena drove past them, the tires just a few inches away from their toes. She heard the angry screams and swears of the men, who clearly not approved of Helena's driving habits.

They left the terrain of the dragrace and headed back to the city, Helena somehow knowing exactly where Alison needed to go.

It took them half an hour to reach the garage. Helena stopped the motorcycle in front of the shop, allowing Alison to step off the vehicle. The blonde took her helmet off her head and held it under her armpits, unpunctual leaning on one of her grab bars, watching her straighten her back and fix her jacket by wiping off the dust of the pink fabric. She cleared her throat and put a smile on her face.

"Thank you, Helena, for the ride," she said. "Really, if there's anything I can do-"

"Do you have food?"

"E-excuse me?" Alison asked surprised, not expecting such a short and fast answer. To be honest, she didn't even expected a reply at all.

"Let's have lunch," Helena said, showing that child-like smile of hers again. Alison blinked and stared at her for a few seconds. She cleared her throat uncomfertable again, but nodded. She owed her that, defenitely. And she seemed like a nice person, so why shouldn't she?

"Alright, then," she said. "Do you have a phone?"

Helena shook her head.

"But pen and paper."

The motorist took a pen and a piece of paper out of one of the few huge pockets of her enormous coat and handed them over to Alison. She took them, nodded as an thanks and quickly wrote down her personal number. She didn't want Helena to call her on the general phone. Donnie could pick up, and that was the last thing she wanted, because her nosy husband was very good at asking questions.

"Here you are," she said, as she gave the pen and the little piece of paper with her phone number back to Helena. The blonde's eyes scanned the paper quickly before she put the piece of paper into the same pocket it came from.

"I'll give you a call tonight," she said, her words twisted by her obvious European accent, probably Urkanian. "Good afternoon, sestra."

Helena put on her helmet and throttled off.

"I'm not your-" Alison yelled, but her voice got drowned by the sound of the loud engine. Helena already was too far down the street to hear her finish her sentence. A sigh escaped her mouth as she watched Helena dissapear around the corner. When the blonde Ukranian girl was gone she remembered why she dropped her off here.

Alison turned around, facing the garage. From the outside, it looked quite ordinairy, with bright white letters spelling the name: Childs & Mannings and a glass display showing different types of motorcycles and bikes.

Alison took a deep breath and exhauled slowly, to calm her mind and control her body before she entered the shop. There was a small path that lead her through a huge group of bicycles and motorbikes to a counter. A woman very peculiar woman sat behind it, playing a game on her phone and a bourbon in her hand with her feet up on the desk. She clearly didn't notice Alison, or she simply didn't care (which would be very rude), because she didn't look up from her game. The woman simply took another sip and kept swiping over her touchscreen.

Alison carefully walked through the cleared path, to make sure she wouldn't knock some bikes over at her way to the woman. She safely made it out of the mass of bikes and walked towards the counter. Alison straightened her back and cleared her throat. The woman lifted her gaze to meet Alison's, the exact lazy and unintrested expression in those hazel eyes surrounded by heavy black eyeliner as Alison expected to see. Obvilously someone who didn't enjoy working or helping clients. Her lion-mane-like hair stack out in every direction possible and her make-up was smudged a little. She wore a mechanics suit with dark oil-stains on them around the waist and legs.

"Can I help you?" she asked. It was immediatly clear this woman was english, or at least she has lived there for a while. Alison rose her eyebrows when she heard the english pronouncation of the words.

"Yeah, I'm english," the woman said grumpily. Her voice was harsh and sounded angry, even neutral. "But can I help you?"

After living years and years in Canada she must've gotten used to people looking up from her voice, though Alison wished she hadn't risen her eyebrows, because she felt the woman was a lot less likely to help her out.

"Yes, I've got a problem with my motorcycle," Alison said. "So, if you could be nice and help me out-"

The woman sighed and nodded as she stood up and walked through a door, that lead to the back of the garage. Alison could hear her scream for her collegue

"BETH!"

There is a silence.

"Beth fucking Childs there's a lady at the counter for you! Get your dirty ass over here and help her!" she screamed when she didn't got an answer right away. The woman's voice even sounded harder when she yelled.

"Can't you do her?" another voice answered. Alison blinked surprised. This one sounded nicer, sweeter. Like it wasn't made for yelling, but for silent whispers. Alison shifted uncomfertably her weight from her left leg to her right.

"She needs to fix her motor, yeah? That's your bloody job! I'm here for the bicycles!"

"Okey then," the other woman sighs. The one with the black eyeliner and lion-mane-like hair came back and sat down on her chair again.

"My collegue will help you, yeah?" she said. "Wanna drink something? Cup of tea?"

Alison shook her head and raised her hand politely.

"No, I'm fine, thank you."

The woman shrugged and took her mobile from her backpocket again. She resumed her game and ignored Alison like she did when she came in. The tiny woman crossed her arms angrily and stack her nose up in the air, not pleased with the way she talked to her.

It took a few minutes of waiting before the collegue stepped through the door. She was wiping her hands on a dirty cloth. It once could've been blue, Alison thought, but because all the oil spots it was impossible to see the original colour. She doubted her hands would get any cleaner by wiping them with that cloth.

The second woman was nothing like the first. Yes, they wore the same mechanics suit and both of their eyes had the same kind of hazelish colour, but besides that there was almost nothing the same. While the first woman's hair was poofy, the second woman's was straight, falling just over her shoulders. Her smile was warm and inviting and her make-up was simple, perfect for her gorgeous face. Her cheeks were slightly pink, which was almost cute... Alison quickly shook her head, as if she could loose those weird thoughts with it.

The woman smiled at her, which mesmerized Alison for a few seconds, before she stack out her hand. Alison took it and shook it.

"Hey, I'm Beth," the woman introduced her. "Beth Childs. And this is Sarah, my sister."