SYBIL

Even though I told them I absolutely, positively did not want to go, they sent me to camp for the summer.

As I expected, I didn’t fit in very well. I found myself retreating from the others to their so-called library. It was a pathetic collection of books that clearly had been discarded by others who knew they were poor literature that wasn’t worth reading. But it was all I had. When I had free time away from swimming lessons, arts and crafts projects, folklore classes, and the required chores, I would make my way back to the library, a small cabin with a fireplace. The wooden mantle above had the carved words, “The Truth Shall Set Ye Free.” I thought about carving the addition, “But, Not At This Camp.”

I often would select a book and leave without filling out an honor system card. I would find a quiet place to be alone, away from the others, and read. It would be the only time I really enjoyed camp.

The only person that I felt at all connected to was the arts and crafts counselor. She was young and pretty. More importantly, she didn’t treat me like a moron.

One day, she walked up to me while I was reading and questioned, “You like to read, don’t you?”

“Yah, who doesn’t?” I replied.

“I noticed. I do to. I’ve been reading this collection of short stories by J.D. Salinger.” She held out the book in her hand. “I thought that you might like it.”

“The first one is a little dark, but I think that you can handle it.”

It was A Perfect Day for Bananafish.