“Here comes the sun little darling. Here comes the sun and I say..” the song blared distantly on the speaker system.
Like clockwork, my counselor chirped, “Alright, girls! Up! Hoppers to the dining hall in 10 minutes!”
I wasn’t a Hopper, so I pulled the covers over my head to block out the light and the one fly that was buzzing in my ear all morning, causing a half sleep-like state.
I could usually get away with this for a good 3-5 minutes.
“ALEX! UP. Line-up is in 7 minutes and I don’t want you last in line again!”
Of course I would be last in line again. Who were we kidding?
“Raise the flag raise the flag at the break of the day when the daily work is beginning, raise the flag raise the flag at the break of the day when the daily work is beginning.” I lazily clapped along as girls side chanted around the flagpole.
“Well everyone,” Sarabeth, head of girls side announced, “we have a VERY special day today here at Perlman Camp!”
“It’s Erica’s birthday!” one of the older girls called out. In response, a 7AM level of excitement "wooo" from her bunk.
“Yes it’s Erica’s birthday, but we also have a specialty day!” Sarabeth continued. “Today..drumroll please…. Will be Harry Potter day!”
Gasps and woos from the Potterheads. Silence from the rest.
I had only read the first 2 books because my sister told me they were a little scary, but I was a gasper, a wooer, and likely one of the most excited people on camp for the magical day that would ensue. Because I was a naive little believer.
“You will be sorted into one of four houses at breakfast, where the day’s activities will be explained. Freshmen, off to the dining hall!”
My hopes were immediately diminished when I saw that there was no transformation of my every day dining hall into the "Great Hall," no floating candles or sky above. I guess I realized that magic definitely isn't a thing.
Just like Harry, all I could think throughout my soggy waffle breakfast was, “not Slytherin please not Slytherin. Gimme Gryffindor pretty please sorting hat gods I want to be in Gryffindor. Or Ravenclaw. But not Slytherin”
So of course I got stuck in Hufflepuff.
As you can imagine, the day was pretty unremarkable. A mere mask of every day activities and challenges, but channeled with the competitive component of us being on separate teams or “houses.” Though the loudspeakers did play the eery, classic Harry Potter theme music between activities, I was unimpressed. Plus I was in Hufflepuff. How excited could I get? My only consolation was that a close friend from my bunk, Mollie Gibson, would be on my team.
Until I heard that the final day’s activity would be a quidditch match. Still hope for magic!
At the match, I was again disappointed, but also in awe, to find that the players held the broom between their legs and did not, in fact, fly. The "snitch" was an athletics counselor dressed in mustard yellow, running about. The goal posts were only about as tall as myself. And worst of all, I was still rooting for Hufflepuff.
To add to the burn of our housing placement, another rather annoying girl from our bunk, Eva Tulchinsky, came up to Mollie and me during the heat of the match and said, "Gryffindor is the best, you guys SUCK," (as if we didn't know this.) Mollie continued on to quarrel with the rude girl who cared way too much about arguing a clearly proven point. The fight escalated into Eva clawing at Mollie. When I saw this, I ran and got between them. You mess with Mollie Gibson, you mess with me.
Eva scratched away at my arm and drew blood. A counselor saw, and she was sent away without canteen for the night. I continued to pick at the scrape from Eva because I'm an idiot, and because it looked cool... and it turned into a small white scar on my upper right arm. I still wonder to this day if I'm Eva's last horcrux...
..And that night I pulled the giant sword of Gryffindor from a sorting hat. Because we all know the sorting was a fluke and I was clearly the bravest person at B'nai Brith Perlman Camp.
C'est ca.
PS THIS IS ME AND MOLLIE AT THAT AGE. WOULD YOU MESS WITH US? (PROBABLY)
PS THIS IS ME AND MOLLIE AT THAT AGE. WOULD YOU MESS WITH US? (PROBABLY)
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