Helens-of-Troy (6 page)

“I guess we were being kind of loud,”
Tom offered. “We’d better cool it if we want to make a good
impression.”

“Too late for that. The Mom’s already
got the ‘lock-up-her-daughter’ look going on.” He sighed. “I know
it well.”

Ellie noticed Stan standing by himself
on the sidewalk. She offered her hand to him. “Come on, kid. You
want candy? I'll take you up there. This is my house
now.”

Her dark demeanor was not assuring to
Stan in the least. He noticed the chipped black nail polish on her
fingers. He also noticed a spider tattoo peeking out from under her
sleeve. “Thanks, Cruella,” he said nervously, “but I'm not supposed
to go anywhere with strangers.”

“Suit yourself,” Ellie
shrugged.

The front door of the LaRose home
opened, framing Helena in a long, sexy, slit-to–the-navel, black
dress.

Helen rolled her eyes. “I knew
it.”

“Sweet,” Ryan smiled.

“I thought I heard a car door slam!”
Helena squealed, slinking down the stairs in six-inch
stilettos.

Stan looked towards her and froze in
fear. He could have sworn he saw something pass swiftly behind her
on the walkway, then turn and head into her backyard. It was only
there for a moment, and it looked right at him. Whatever it
was.

“What's the matter, Stan? Cat got your
tongue?” Helena asked. “You’re awfully quiet tonight. Don’t let my
outfit scare you. It’s just a little ensemble I threw together for
the occasion. I couldn’t decide whether I wanted be a witch or a
vampire queen. I went for both.”

Stan grabbed at his throat, choking as
he gasped for air.

“For heaven’s sake, Stan. It’s just a
figure of speech!” Helena said. “There’s not a cat in sight.” She
looked at Ryan for help. “Did he swallow a gumball whole? Do I need
to do the Heimlich maneuver on him?”

“It’s okay, Mrs. LaRose,” Ryan assured
her. “He’s just scared. I have his inhaler in my pocket.” Ryan
pulled it out and gave it to Stan, who promptly filled his lungs in
hurried puffs. “He’s always forgetting it. I figured he’d need it
sometime tonight.”

“He’s lucky he’s got you to look out
for him, Ryan. Is he going to be okay?”

“He’ll be fine,” Ryan assured her.
“Just give it a minute.”

“A boy Stan’s age shouldn’t have
shock-related asthma. You tell your mother to bring him around to
my office one day this week. I’d like to see if I can help. I think
a lavender elixir would work wonders for him.”

“I’ll ask her, Mrs. LaRose. But I
wouldn’t hold your breath.”

Helena turned and reached her arms out
towards the girls. “My darlings! I didn’t mean to ignore you. Come
give me a hug. This is the most wonderful visit I’ve had all year.
Go inside and make yourselves comfortable. I’ll be about another
half an hour with the kiddies, so that will give you some time to
settle in. Helen, you can have the room down the hall from mine on
the second floor. Mine would be the big room. Ellie, the room at
the top of the peak with the little balcony there is all yours.”
She pointed at it from the walkway. The light was on awaiting
Ellie’s arrival. “You must be tired. We can catch up in the
morning.”

“Thanks, Gram!” Ellie said, looking up
at the house. “Wow. I’ve never had my own private
balcony.”

Helena shuddered, and then waved her
manicured finger at her granddaughter. “Uh, uh, uh, enough of that,
Ellie. If you choose to let the odd expletive loose in this
household, it will be overlooked. But utter THAT four letter word
again, and believe me, hell hath no furry, as they say.”

“I warned you,” Helen reminded her
daughter, repeating the neck slashing gesture she had made in the
van. “Ix-nay on the gram-nay.”

“Sorry, Nan?” Ellie said
apprehensively.

“Much better,” Helena said, giving
Ellie a big hug. Ellie’s arms gave her a big squeeze in return.
“Well that’s what I’ve missed,” she said to her
granddaughter.

Helena then stepped towards Helen,
hoping for the same reaction, but her daughter pulled back from
her. “Is everything okay, Helen?” she asked.

“Really, Mother,” Helen began, “are you
telling me, that in all the closets in that big old house of yours,
you couldn't find something a little less revealing to wear into
the middle of the street than a flimsy evening gown? It looks
so...cheap.”

“Helen,” Helena sighed. “Don't be such
a stick in the mud. It's Victoria's Secret, dear. I can assure you
it wasn't cheap. Now give me a proper hug.” She threw her arms
around her daughter and gave her a big kiss.

Helen wiped her face with her glove.
Even as a child she had hated when her mother left lipstick on her
cheek. “How come Ellie gets the room with the balcony?” she
pouted.

“Because she is young and beautiful and
will probably have a wilder sex life than either of us can dream
about. She'll need to get by you somehow.”

“She is only fifteen. She doesn’t have
a sex life. At least she better not have. I’m counting on you to
set an example.”

“Another conversation for another day,”
Helena said knowingly.

“Don’t go putting ideas into her head,
Mother.”

“Can we help you, Mrs. LaRose?” Ryan
asked.

“No, you cannot help,” Helen stated.
“Why are you still here?”

“Helen, don’t be rude to the boys. They
can help bring the luggage in,” Helena answered. “Just the things
they'll need for the night, please, boys. We can unload the rest in
the morning. The van will be safe enough.” She looked at the
exterminator logo on the vehicle parked in front of her house.
“Really, Helen. And you have the nerve to question my
style.”

“I warned you,” Ellie echoed to her
mother. “We should have come by bus.”

Ryan followed Helen as she walked to
the rear of the van. “Can I carry something for you, Mrs. LaRose? I
mean you, the other Mrs. LaRose. Or whatever your name is. I figure
you probably don’t want me calling you Helen. Or do
you?”

“It's Bocelli, actually,” Helen
replied, irritated. “On second thought I'll probably be switching
it back to LaRose. Ms. LaRose is fine. Helen is not.” She opened
the rear doors and pointed at a suitcase. “Take the heavy blue one,
will you? Thank you. Ryan, is it?”

He nodded. “I live next door. Nice and
handy, in case you need anything. Anytime.”

“Great,” Helen muttered, under her
breath. Just what she needed. A swearing, sex-crazed behemoth
living a stone’s throw away from her impressionable
daughter.

“So… it’s Ms. LaRose. I take it you’re
single?”

The look she threw him said it
all.

“Okay then, I’ll just take these into
the house,” Ryan said, giving her the same look back.

Tom walked over to the side of the van
and opened the sliding door for Goth-Chic. “So you’d be Ellie
Bocelli?” he smirked.

Ellie stared him down, having heard
that one before. “You can rhyme. Very good. You must be the smart
one.” She pulled her duffle bag from the car seat and threw it on
the ground.

“Nice to meet you too,” Tom said
sarcastically, unsure what had set her off.

“I’m not Ellie Bocelli. I am a LaRose.
I'm technically a bastard. But that's more information than I
usually give somebody I don't know. Happy now?”

“Working the ‘Miss Congeniality’ thing
are you? Why do I get the feeling that's not a costume for you? I'm
surprised you can stand there under the streetlight. Doesn't that
hurt you people?” he sassed back.

Ellie grinned, appreciating the quick
comeback. She took a lingering look at Tom. There had been plenty
of good-looking boys at home, but Tom, he was definitely worth the
move.

“We took that into consideration when
‘my people’ designed energy efficient bulbs. You’ll notice the
soft-pink light they produce reduces glare. Not only does it not
make me want to immediately crawl into a coffin,” she paused,
suddenly losing her icy edge without wanting to do so, “it’s easy
on the eyes.” She felt her heart begin to beat faster. Just looking
at him did that. She desperately hoped her voice had not just given
her feelings away.

Tom, upon closer inspection of Ellie,
saw that Ryan was right. They all did look alike, which meant that
Ellie was also a babe. Her hair was long, dark and silkily
beautiful. His eyes lowered to her chest, where he guessed that
underneath the baggy black sweater she was wearing, she was built a
lot like her grandmother. It was hard to tell. He smiled at Ellie,
slightly embarrassed.

“Easy on the eyes,” he repeated, a sexy
smile coming across his face. “Okay, Goth-Chic. Let’s start again.
I'm Tom. Tom Williams. I live two streets down on Pine Crescent.
I’m a straight-A student and I work part time at my dad’s hardware
store down on Main. I couldn’t throw a football if my life depended
on it. That makes me a loser in this football crazy town. Tossing a
pigskin would be my buddy Ryan’s job. He’s the all-star. And a
letterman. That last part might surprise your mom. Of course he got
it for football, but apparently it still counts.”

Ellie smiled back shyly. He was beyond
cute. Her shoulders raised and her fists tightened uncontrollably
as she tried to prevent herself from gushing right in front of him.
“My name's really Helen, like my mom, but everyone calls me Ellie.
Ellie LaRose. It gets too confusing otherwise. I’m athletic, but
I’d never get a letter for sports. I like the javelin. Weird huh? I
like to pierce things.”

Tom noticed her ears held several
earrings. His mind began to wonder about what else might be
pierced. Nothing would surprise him.

“And I like to dress in black,” she
summed up.

“So I see,” he said, subconsciously
running his hand through his hair, making sure every one was still
in place.

“Anything else you want to
know?”

“Helena, Helen and Ellie?” Tom asked
quizzically.

“You've got it. You are the smart
one.”

“It’s kind of ironic
then...”

Ellie looked at him
bewilderedly.

“The two of you moving to Troy,” Tom
said. “Population 3,000 and well, two.”

Ellie suddenly got it. “Oh my God,” she
said, slapping her forehead with her hand. “That makes us the
Helens of Troy. Please don’t point that out to anyone
else.”

“See. You are smarter than a fifth
grader. Don’t worry, I won’t.”

Ellie laughed. Tom took it as a sign
their verbal jousting had come to an end. He relaxed a little.
There was something unusual about her, he thought. And it wasn’t
just the outfit. Maybe it was her big green eyes, framed by lashes
that were longer than any he had seen on a girl in his life. Maybe
it was just that she was hot, like Ryan said. Maybe it was the fact
that for the first time in his life, he was actually seeing an aura
around someone.

“I heard your grandmother ask you to
call her Nan. Nan, Gran, what’s the difference?” he asked, his head
tilting from side to side looking at her, following the patterns of
light around her that only he seemed to be able to see.

“A big one, apparently. She doesn't
like to be reminded of her age. She thinks people will think Nan's
short for Nancy or something. I guess I could call her Helena. I
don’t know. Whatever makes her happy. What are you looking
at?”

“Nothing,” he said, trying not to look
at her glow. “Ryan’s in love with her, just so you know. Ryan’s
pretty much in love with anything that’s female and
alive.”

Alone on the sidewalk, Stan was feeling
abandoned. “Hello? I'm over here. Remember me? The kid who wants to
go up the stairs before next year,” he yelled, finally finding his
voice. “What? Am I invisible or something?”

“Stan. Will you just go up the...” Ryan
started.

“Could you please not drop an f-bomb?”
Helen interrupted.

“Stan, go up the stupid stairs,” Ryan
continued, looking at Helen defiantly. “You little wimp-ass,” he
added.

Stan thought it over. He didn’t want to
go down in history as the only kid afraid to go up Mrs. LaRose’s
porch. Especially now that these new people had arrived. Kevin,
Ryan, Tom and even Mrs. LaRose pretty much knew he was afraid of
the littlest things, but he still had a chance with the strangers.
He slowly walked up the stairs, onto the porch and reached into the
cauldron. Fearing to look inside, in case something truly evil
lurked there, he turned towards the swing. He screamed. He could
feel his head swirling, and he knew no matter how much he didn’t
want to do it, he was going to faint.

Ellie darted to the porch. As Stan spun
around, she held out her arms, catching him.

“Well! This has never happened before,”
Helena exclaimed.

“Kid,” Ellie said, easing him to the
ground. She slapped him across the face. “Kid, wake up.”

“Don’t do that,” Ryan yelled, running
up behind her. “His name’s Stan. He’ll come to in a second. He
always does this. He has a short synapse or something. It makes him
pass out when his adrenalin gets charged.”