Fwd: Senior Sale! Rare, Vintage, Extraneous

Some say they are like Christmas come early. Others say they take up too much space on house email lists. But I think I speak for all of us when I say that senior sales are more than just a sale, more than just a quick and easy way to make some cash. They are remnants of an entire college career, a curated collection of belongings telling someone else’s story.

Once you possess your newfound item, going about your daily life, you can think: “This was someone else’s before it was mine.” You have a cool story to tell your friends. And as long as you wash/sage/palo santo the thrifted item before use, you are protected from evil spirits.

At least, this is what I thought.

One day, I was looking at senior sales as a way to procrastinate studying for my Justice exam, when I saw the cutest top. Pink and fitted with puffy sleeves. It was my size and looked barely worn. It was mine. I was ready to hit the trigger and email sarasupersenior@college.harvard.edu when all of a sudden, big black letters appeared across the image: “SOLD.”

I blinked. Who else was shopping senior sales at 2 a.m.? There was, however, an image next to it, showcasing a pale yellow, flowy top — arguably less cute, but still wearable. It was going for the same price, and would have to do.

And then, there it was again: “SOLD.” There’s no way, I thought. Perhaps I could bargain with the culprit, or with Sara. But as I started to type out, “Hey, I am willing to pay a higher price,” Anonymous Octopus left the Google Slides document. I started to despair.

Scrolling down, I surveyed the other slides. A clay pot, a coffee mug, a basic yet reliable desk lamp I could buy on Amazon for the same price. And was that a Bob Ross wig? Um.

There was also a blue chair that would match my dorm decor perfectly — except it had three legs instead of four, and I could not unsee the image of me toppling over while studying.

I was starting to feel really sorry for myself when I got to the “Free Items” section at the bottom of the presentation. “Leaving this stuff in a bin outside my room in McKinlock,” Sara had written. In this section, there were weird, half-used multicolored pencils with bite marks on the sides and false eyelashes with missing hairs. Nothing I wanted.

But there was one thing that caught my eye.

Sara was giving away a Spy Kids DVD, the original one that came out in 2001. Underneath the photo was the caption, “Giving this away since I can watch it on HBO now.”

This was my chance. My sister and I loved that movie, and she would be so touched if I gifted it to her for her birthday. We still had an old DVD player at home that we kept for sentimental reasons.

Fuck an email. I had to lock this DVD down now. With no time to waste, I began running to McKinlock from the Quad. I got there around 2:43 a.m.

I ran down to the gym so I could take the stairs all the way up, bypassing the ridiculously slow elevator. I was slightly winded by the time I reached Sara’s door. There it was — the Spy Kids DVD, peeking out from the top of the box.

I reached down to grab it, but before I could secure it between my fingers, a random hand slithered in and snatched it! I grabbed the DVD anyway, yanking it towards me, starting a game of tug-of-war. I looked up. A guy — slightly shorter than me, wearing thick-rimmed glasses — stared back.

As we both pulled, a brilliant idea dawned on me. I yanked hard towards myself, causing him to lunge forward and lose balance. When he pulled back even harder, I let go, sending both him and the DVD flying to the floor.

I scrambled to retrieve the DVD and race down the hall, fleeing the scene. “Hey!” he yelled. “That’s my grandma’s favorite movie!” I didn’t care. It needed to be done. The look on my sister’s face would make it all worth it.

Racing back to the Quad through the black night, I kept imagining that he was following me. But I never stopped or looked back to find out. I reflected on my actions. Was I a bad person? How old was his grandma?

I finally got back to the Quad and flopped down on my bed, but not before making sure the door was locked. I had done it.

Lying on my back, I held the DVD above myself, Carmen and Juni staring back down at me from the case. I was ready for the nostalgia to come pouring in.

I opened the DVD case and looked at the disc inside.

Wii Sports? Stupid senior sale.

— Magazine writer Dannie C. Bell can be reached at dannie.bell@thecrimson.com.