Becoming Ellen by Shari Shattuck Page B

narrow strip of lawn, maybe ten feet wide, that separated the house’s property from the woods.
    â€œI hope they don’t spot us. Although it’s not likely anyone will think I’m a Peeping Tom.” Temerity laughed out loud at the idea. “But they might think I’m the Wicked Witch of the Woods. Justice used to scare the bejesus out of me with that one.” She raised her stick and cackled, “Fear me or face my monkeys!”
    â€œYour . . . what?” asked Ellen.
    The blind girl turned toward her. “Do
not
tell me that you have never seen
The Wizard of Oz
.”
    Ellen couldn’t help it. “Do
not
tell me that you
have
.”
    Temerity threw her head back and laughed until she was doubled over. “Oh my God,” she wheezed as she wiped a tear out of her eye. “Sometimes I forget that you have almost no iconic childhood images.
Cinderella
?”
    â€œWhat about her?” Ellen asked.
    â€œDid you see that?”
    â€œI saw part of it on TV once.” Ellen didn’t mention that she had related only to the drudgery in the fairy-tale character’s life. It had seemed completely normal to Ellen that the stepmother and sisters had treated Cinderella so badly. The whole ball-gown/rescued-by-a-prince thing seemed, frankly, absurd. Talk about setting yourself up. What she mostly recalled about
Cinderella
on TV was being caught watching from the hallway by the real son of the household. He had shouted at her and harangued her for being an ugly freak until she retreated to her bare mattress where she slept in a thin sleeping bag. There had been no princes in Ellen’s childhood, and believing in them would only have made getting through each day more difficult. “How do
you
know what’s in those movies?” she asked her friend, to banish the stinging, sticky feeling churned up by the memory.
    â€œI listened to them. And by the way, they were both books first and I
can
read.”
    Looking at the house from the side, Ellen could see into a large open kitchen that opened onto a porch with stairs down to a backyard that had both a trampoline and a pool.
    A pool.
Ellen hadn’t ever been in a pool. In fact, she’d never been swimming, but she’d stood outside the fences of public pools, wishing she could have one to herself. The idea of being able to soak in cool water on a hot day Ellen found enchanting, and far more magical than a pair of glass slippers, which struck her as uncomfortable and impractical, not to mention downright dangerous.
Glass
slippers?
    The daylight was fading, which made it easier to see into the large kitchen. Ellen leaned forward and studied the interior intently. At first she saw no one, and then a woman came in. Even from this distance, Ellen thought her face looked kind.
    Ellen leaned around the base of a large pine tree, until, with a little thrill of discovery, she saw Lydia. She was dressed in a pink turtleneck with a red sweater. Her dark hair was neatly brushed and held in place by a pink band with a sparkly green flower. The girl was writing in what looked like a workbook. As Ellen watched, the older woman poured a glass of milk and brought it over to the girl. Then she sat down next to Lydia and took up a pencil. Heads together, the two of them worked on something until Lydia held up the page with a shy smile. The woman clapped her hands together and then put an arm around the girl’s shoulders for an easy hug. Lydia did not pull away. Ellen couldn’t help a small gasp.
    â€œWhat? What do you see?” Temerity asked impatiently.
    The two of them stood together for another fifteen minutes, while the air grew chillier and Ellen related the scene before her, saying out loud to Temerity what she would have written in her notebook. The table was cleared, Lydia helped set the table for three. The woman brought a large steaming bowl to the table and a man joined them. He patted Lydia on the