The teenage brunette smiled down at her. "Call me an old bat, eh? Well, let's see how you like being in those shoes ... Mrs. Finch."
Sarah looked down at herself. She was so old. And her clothes were so tacky. But she liked that, didn't she? Sarah shook her head. No, this wasn't right. She wasn't Mrs. Finch. The girl standing over her was Mrs. Finch. She did something to her, to make them switch places.
"Ta ta," the brunette said, smirking and waving, then she left the library.
Sarah stood up and ...
