Chapter 2

Cheryl took a deep breath, closed her eyes for a moment and knocked on the door.

A blue-eyed, petite blonde opened the door. “May I help you?”

“Hi. I am Cheryl Woods”, Cheryl replied. “You must be Joyce. We are to be roommates”

 “Oh yes. Come in”, the other girl smiled. “Hi. Call me Joy.”

Joyce stepped aside to let Cheryl in. She looked around to familiarize herself with a place that was going to be her home for sometime. It was a little room with two single-beds. They were covered with white bed-sheets that looked clean and came with a pillow and a blanket each.

The windows allowed plenty of sun and air in. They looked out to the lush green campus of the university. The walls must have been a sunny yellow once upon a time but now were faded to a dull, indiscriminate colour. But the paint was not peeling and in place above the beds, the original colour showed where the former residents must have put up some posters.

 “Home”, Cheryl murmured.

 “No”, Joyce said, hearing the murmur. “Home is where the heart is, isn’t it? My heart is with my Mom and Dad.”

They settled the issue of beds amicably with a coin toss. The luck of the draw was in Cheryl’s favour. She picked the bed under the window and Joyce settled for the one by the door. The bathroom was a non-issue with Joyce being an early-riser and Cheryl preferring to lounge in bed as late as possible.

 “I am here to study Literature”, Cheryl told Joyce as they unpacked. On receiving no reply, she turned to find Joyce standing over her bed, looking baffled. Neat stacks of clothes covered her bed, while she gazed into the cupboard lining her side of the wall.

“Problem?” Cheryl asked. In reply, Joyce moved aside and just waved first towards the clothes on the bed and then the cupboard. Understanding dawned. “You have more clothes than cupboard size”, Cheryl smiled. “Look, I can lend you the left-over space in my cupboard after I have stowed away my stuff.”

“Thanks. But I don’t think that that would be enough.” Joyce looked dubious. “Anyway, I guess that will have to make do and I will have to lice partially out of the suitcase.”

All the unpacking, adjusting and running around to figure out the hostel amenities and rules tired the two girls out quickly. They ate an early dinner in the mess and settled into their room for the night, chatting quietly.

“So, what do your parents do? Got any siblings? Feel free to tick me off, if you think I am prying. My mom says that I don’t usually know when to stop.” Joyce grinned unabashedly. Having given Cheryl an unsolicited account of her family, she had moved on to knowing more about her new roommate.

Cheryl wondered how much should she say. On one hand, she had moved here to avoid the fame of her family but on the other, it was no state secret either. “My father’s a surgeon. My mom used to be a model. Now, she has retired from the arc-lights.”

“How cool! Is she anybody I could know? She must have been from before our time – no offense meant – but, still...”

“Angela Woods. Her maiden name was Cromwell.” Cheryl tried to keep her voice nonchalant and hoped that it would not strike a chord.

“Sounds familiar but I can’t quite place it.” Joyce scrunched her face in an attempt at recall some information but gave up after a few second. “Yet, it must be so awesome. Your mom being famous and glamorous and all. Does she...” Joyce’s question trailed off when she saw the expression on Cheryl’s face. Not quite anger. Neither sadness. Just something not happy.

“Yeah, it is. I am tired and wouldn’t mind turning in. Good night.” Cheryl smiled and got into her bed, switching off the bedside lamp.

Joyce knew a brush-off, when she got one. Curiouser and curiouser, she thought. She switched on her laptop and connected to the net. She quickly googled Angela Cromwell and the results were impressive, to say the least. But why was Cheryl so cut-up about it? Now that was something that Joyce did not understand. She would have been so proud of her family.

She whistled softly and glanced towards Cheryl. The other girl was almost completely still under the covers. Joyce felt almost certain that she was awake.

Why? Joyce mused again when it suddenly struck her. All the sites and articles spoke about the parents and the siblings – their achievements, their glory. Cheryl was just the daughter or the sister of the beautiful, the famous and the prodigies.

Joyce glanced one last time at Cheryl before shutting down her computer and turning in herself.