My Sister's Shadow

Chapter Two

I adored Oxford.

From the moment my parents closed the door to my dormitory room behind them, I felt a tremendous sense of release. I was free.

I dove headfirst into my English course. I devoured any texts set before me. Milton. Keats. Austen. Of course Shakespeare and Wordsworth and Shelley and Yeats. I read all the required texts at least twice and showed up to my tutorials early. I was in my element being a complete nerd. Academia was where I belonged, and I could already imagine myself seated behind a great wooden desk as I guided future generations of Oxonians through George Eliot's subtler intentions in Daniel Deronda.

There were days I practically lived at the library. "Granger's Territory" was what a few others in my course called the study carel where I encamped myself with stacks of books, my CD player, and a pillow and blanket for the occasional nap. I felt as though the ancient texts, the words of thousands of brilliant scholars, floated in the air and seeped from the woodwork. And if I stayed long enough, I would absorb it all.

Of course, I didn't spend all my time with my nose buried in books. With all those pubs in the general vicinity of the university, I was bound to spend a little time there. The friends I made in my college didn't think my bookish ways were freakish and weird. They didn't care that I was the Other Granger Girl. In fact, they didn't even know I had a sister at all. I told them about her if they asked, but most people didn't.

Dr. Amanda Holman was my favorite don. She was everything I aspired to be. At 30, she was one of the youngest fellows ever at Magdalen College and had published several rather provocative papers reinterpreting beloved English poems. I'm certain all the men and a few of the women in my tutorial had crushes on her.

"Rosalind, would you stay after a moment?" she asked me as the other students filed out of her office at the end of tutorial two weeks before the term was over. "I have something I'd like to speak with you about."

"Ooh, what have you done now, Roz?" Henry Mortensen said teasingly, and I rolled my eyes. He had been in every one of my tutorials that year and seemed to take a perverse glee in tormenting me.

"Is there something you need, Henry?" Dr. Holman asked in a benign voice.

"No, no, nothing at all. Good luck, Roz," he said in a mock-ominous voice and slunk out the door.

"Rosalind, I need to speak with you about your last paper," Dr. Holman said, giving no hint of where this conversation might head. "Please, have a seat."

I did as I was told, preparing myself for the worst. Perhaps I was wrong in choosing the English course. That had to be what she was going to tell me. Ask me what in the world am I doing in her tutorial and why don't I become an accountant or something. The hours I'd spent re-reading everything I was assigned and poring over criticism in the library were all for naught. I was hopeless at literature and should just give up.

"Simply put, Rosalind, this is excellent work, far beyond anything I'd expect from a first year student," Dr. Holman said plainly.

I stared blankly, unable to come up with a response.

"Have you given any thought about a career in academia?" she asked. "Judging from your papers and your contributions to tutorials, I'd say you'd have all the makings of one."

Again, words failed me.

"Have you heard of the Remington Fellowship?" she continued.

I shook my head.

"Well, I think you should apply for it. It's a summer research position with the English department, and that means, with me. Your room and board would be covered, and you'd receive a stipend of 250 pounds a month. I know that isn't much, but I guarantee, the experience will more than make up for it. I'm doing some rather exciting research into the subversive undertones of Felicia Hemans's poem 'The Homes of England,' and I'll be needing a research assistant. It's open to all undergraduates, and it would be an excellent start to an academic career."

I'm certain my eyes lit up as I imagined myself poring over ancient texts or locating a long-lost correspondence between Felicia Hemans and Percy Shelley. Rosalind Granger, Literary Detective!

But then, reality hit. My parents had already been nagging me about a summer job, one that would pay more than 250 pounds a month. In a phone call a few days earlier, my mother informed me that she had spoken with friends of hers who worked in banks and brokerage firms about securing me a menial job there, and I feared that I would be stuck inside an office building, stamping envelopes all summer.

"It sounds wonderful, and I'd love to do it," I said, "but I don't know that I could convince my parents that it would be worthwhile. They're terribly practical people, and I think they'd like me to be pursuing a career in accounting or as a stockbroker or something like that. I think they'd rather I interned at a business or investment firm this summer. I'm sure they don't think you can make literature into a career."

Dr. Holman nodded and smiled.

"I understand that," she rejoined. "My family is from Durham. They're coal miners four generations back. Naturally, they didn't agree with my choice of profession because it wasn't useful, they thought. They told me I was acting above my station, and there was nothing worse than a daughter with her head in the clouds and her mind full of 'notions,' as they put it. But you have to remember, it's your choice."

I nodded. She opened a folder on her desk and retrieved a small packet of papers.

"Here's the application," she said, handing it to me. "It's due this Friday. Dr. Crosbie and Dr. Tremaine will have to approve it, of course, but I'll be sure to tell them that you're my first choice."

She smiled, a twinkle in her hazel eyes.

"Thank you," I replied, standing to leave.

"Good luck on your exams, Rosalind," Dr. Holman said, "and keep in touch. I'll be wanting to dive straight into this once summer begins. I'd suggest you take a look at 'The Homes of England' and 'Casabianca' before we begin."

I thanked her again and left the room, my feet feeling a bit lighter, my step a bit springier.

I ran out of the building, grinning like an idiot. Other students were spread out on the lawn, reading, talking, and taking naps in the midday sun, and I wanted nothing more than to join them in that pursuit. But I had studying to do, and I wasn't going to let anything interrupt that. My study carel was waiting for me, after all.

As I rounded a corner into the courtyard, I found Henry Mortensen leaning against a wall, smoking a cigarette. God, he was cute. His shaggy brown hair fell into his eyes as he looked down and stamped his cigarette beneath the ancient Converse he wore.

"Sooo, Roz, what sort of dastardly deeds have you been up to?" he asked, a smirk on his face. "Dr. Holman give you a good verbal thrashing?"

"No, as a matter of fact. She just wanted to talk to me about a few things," I said in a perfunctory voice and started off toward my dormitory.

"Oh, really, like what?" Henry continued, following after me, his mouth running. "That maybe sometimes you should shut up a little in class and let the rest of us poor, not-so-geniuses have a shot? Or is the library concerned that you spend so much time there because you're actually homeless?"

"No," I said plainly. "We just discussed the Remington Fellowship."

He raised an eyebrow.

"So you'll be here this summer?" he asked.

"I might. If I get the fellowship."

"Yeah," he guffawed. "You'll be here."

"We'll see," I said softly, looking at the ground.

"Hey, I'm headed to meet some people down at Lamb and Flag," he said suddenly. "Care to join me for a pre-study session pint?"

I opened my mouth to decline, but he wouldn't even let me reply.

"Oh come on!" he protested. "There's no law against having fun. Besides, it could be educational. Didn't Thomas Hardy write some horrendously depressing book there?"

"Jude the Obscure," I began half-heartedly. "And I should study..." But I wasn't even convinced of that then myself.

"Nah, it's just for an hour or so," he insisted. "Besides, I'm sure everyone would be afraid to give you anything less than superior marks on your exams."

"I doubt that," I said.

"I don't! You're terrifying, you know."

"And you're quite good with the complements, you know," I retorted.

"Does that mean you'll join me?" Henry asked, a smile starting to creep to his lips.

"I suppose it does."

"Good! Let's go, then."

Henry led me down St. Giles Street and into an ancient-looking, oak-ceilinged pub. A group of students crammed around a corner table greeted Henry loudly we entered.

"How kind of you to finally join us!" one of them exclaimed. Henry shook his head and pretended to be annoyed.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Rosalind, these are the cretins I associate with when I don't have anything better to do, like clip my toenails or get a root canal. This is Laura Barclay, she's in Magdalen too," he said, pointing to a girl with curly black hair. "And that's Kevin Thomas, he's an old mate of mine from Sixth Form." Kevin nodded at me, just as the third person at the table let out a deafening belch.

"And that," Henry continued, as if on cue, "is my charming brother, Nathaniel. He's a graduate student, or so he says. What is it you're studying this week, Nat?"

"History, early 20^th century, to be exact," Nathaniel piped up. He looked like an older version of Henry, but with shorter hair. "And I don't know that you could call it studying, exactly. I can give you a definitive guide to every pub in a ten-mile radius, however. But the department keeps funding me, which means they're paying for this round, so what'll you have, Rosalind?"

"Um, a cider, I suppose," I said hesitantly.

"A cider it is," Nathaniel replied, standing up. "Anyone else?" Henry and Kevin asked for an ale each, and Henry motioned for me to take the seat Nathaniel had just vacated. As the brothers passed each other, neither could resist smacking the other on the head.

"Such brotherly love," Laura muttered sarcastically.

"Indeed! You got any siblings, Rosalind?" Nathaniel asked as he leaned against the bar, which was conveniently located about three feet from the table where we sat.

"Yes, actually. I have one sister."

"Well, what's she like?" Nathaniel prompted. "She got a name?"

"Her name's Hermione. She's two years older than me."

"Hermione?" Laura asked. "Your parents Shakespeare buffs or something?"

"No," I smirked. "They're dentists." Uproarious laughter rang out around the table, and I smiled, laughing a bit myself.

"What's Hermione do?" Nathaniel asked, returning to the table with the drinks.

I took a sip of cider and then launched into the explanation my parents had concocted to explain to those who might find what she was doing a little bit odd.

"She's a student as well. But she's studying politics and international affairs in France."

"Really?" Laura asked, interestedly. "Which university?"

"The Sorbonne," I spat out. I had always had qualms about saying she was a student at the most prestigious university in France. To me, it sounded too good to be true, and I told them that maybe we should say it was a less remarkable one, but my parents couldn't miss a chance to try to impress people. A few eyes raised around the table.

"So she speaks French, then?" Kevin asked.

"Yes," I lied.

"Laura and I are both in Modern Languages," Kevin continued. "Maybe we'll have to speak French with her if she ever comes around here to visit you."

I nodded in assent, thinking there was no reason for Hermione to be in Oxford anyway, and even less of a chance of her ever meeting up with Kevin and Laura. Fortunately, it didn't seem like they suspected anything unusual about my sister, and the conversation quickly shifted to upcoming exams.

We chatted and drank for another hour or so before we began glancing at our watches and murmuring unenthusiastically about hitting the books. Any other Thursday evening, we probably would have stayed for several more rounds, but we all had studying to do. Well, except for Nathaniel, it seemed.

"Heading back to the dormitory?" Henry asked as I stood and placed a five-pound note on the table.

"Yeah," I replied. Henry picked up the note and stuffed it back in my hand.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"It's for the pints. Your brother paid for mine," I explained.

"Yeah. So?"

I shrugged. "All right then." I turned to Laura, Kevin, and Nathaniel to tell them good night.

"You know, we're all going to be around here this summer, even old Henry," Nathaniel said jovially, clapping a hand on his brother's shoulder. "You really should join us again, Rosalind. When you get the Remington Fellowship."

"I think I will, thanks," I said and started toward the door. Henry quickly stood, slung his messenger bag over his shoulder and trailed after me.

"I'm heading back to the dormitory as well," he said quickly, as if in response to Nathaniel, who merely stood there, an eyebrow raised and a smirk on his face.

"So what grand plans do you have for tomorrow?" Henry asked as we walked along High Street.

"Studying, but you probably guessed that. You?"

"Me? Study? Eh, maybe a little," Henry said dismissively.

"Why do you always act like you're some big idiot, or something?" I asked him.

"What?" he exclaimed.

"When you said I should give 'not-so-geniuses' or whatever like you a chance," I continued. "You act like school's a big joke, because you're some kind of moron, but you're here, so obviously that's not true."

Henry shrugged.

"It's just easier that way, I guess. It's kind of off-putting to be too smart. The other kids at school used to beat me up if I was too smart in class. I guess I learned it can be a liability sometimes." He paused. "You know, when I said you're terrifying, I was a little serious. You are. I mean, why do you think it took me till now to ask you for a pint?"

I must have been the most clueless person in the world.

"Oh God," I said under my breath as I realize what an idiot I was. We were standing in front of the dormitory by then, but neither of us seemed interested in going inside. Henry sighed loudly and dug his hands into the pockets of his tattered canvas shorts.

"So," he exhaled.

"So," I repeated. And then I acted on the overwhelming impulse possessing me at that point. I kissed him on the cheek and then took off toward the door. And I didn't stop until I made it safely inside my dorm room.

* * * * * *

The letter was waiting in my mailbox when I made my way back to the dormitory after my last exam. I was fairly certain the fellowship was mine, but my hands still shook as I opened the envelope. The first line of the letter began with "Dear Rosalind Helen Granger: Congratulations."

Smiling to myself, I climbed the stairs to my room, where my roommate Ellie was moving out. The place would be all mine for the summer.

"Well, guess that's it then," Ellie said, her form of goodbye, I suppose. We had never really become close, and Ellie had spent most of her spare time at her boyfriend's dormitory.

"Need any help with that?" I said, pointing to the footlocker Ellie was attempting to haul out the door.

"Nah, my brother's just downstairs," she declined in her usual monotone. "I'll get him to do it. Have a good summer. Guess I'll see you around in the fall."

"Yeah, guess so," I echoed.

The phone rang. Ellie looked at it and shrugged, so I reached for it.

"Hello?" I said. When I looked back, Ellie was gone.

"Rozzie, is that you?" my sister said excitedly on the other end.

"Yeah."

"Oh, brilliant! Look, I've got to be brief, but I just got the most wonderful news!"

I was silent. So had I.

"Really?" I asked. "What's that?"

"Well, Harry, Ron, and I got our first Auror assignments today. Our first project."

I hadn't even been aware my sister had completed her Auror training. I wasn't even really sure what exactly Hermione did as an Auror.

"Congratulations," I said, sounding less than elated.

"Oh, thank you!" Hermione gushed. "But guess what! I've been assigned to Oxford!"

The silence on Hermione's end of the line must have been deafening, because she began to shout, "Hello?!" into the phone.

"Still here," I said flatly.

"Oh! Well, anyway, it's not just me. Harry and Ron and I are all going to be in Oxford for the next couple of months or so. It's really so lucky for us! Some people were sent all over the place, Norway, Bulgaria, a few people are going to Argentina and such, so we're lucky to stay so close to home. And that means you and I can see each other as often as we like! Mum and Dad said you might be staying at Oxford this summer to do research. What's that all about?"

"It's a fellowship, through the English Department," I began. "And I got it, for certain."

"Really?" Hermione exclaimed, sounding genuinely interested. "Rozzie, that's brilliant! You'll have to tell me all about it--oh--" She broke off. "Look, Roz, I'm terribly sorry, but I've got to dash. But I've got your address and everything, so I'll see you soon! Love you bunches! Bye!"

The line went dead, and I sat there with the dial tone ringing in my ear for a few moments. It was another typical conversation with my sister. I had so much to tell her but didn't have the chance to get around to it before she had to dash off to her next pursuit. She was always trying to connect with me, but of course, somehow, as usual, we failed yet again.