Над пропастью во ржи

           whenyoucomeovertomyhouse

           IsatthereonD.B.’sdeskandreadthewholenotebook.Itdidn’ttakemelong,andIcanreadthatkindofstuff,somekid’snotebook,Phoebe’soranybody’s,alldayandallnightlong.Kid’snotebookskillme.ThenIlitanothercigarette—itwasmylastone.Imust’vesmokedaboutthreecartonsthatday.Then,finally,Iwokeherup.ImeanIcouldn’tsitthereonthatdeskfortherestofmylife,andbesides,IwasafraidmyparentsmightbargeinonmeallofasuddenandIwantedtoatleastsayhellotoherbeforetheydid.SoIwokeherup.

           Shewakesupveryeasily.Imeanyoudon’thavetoyellatheroranything.Allyouhavetodo,practically,issitdownonthebedandsay,"Wakeup,Phoeb,"andbingo,she’sawake.

           "Holden!"shesaidrightaway.Sheputherarmsaroundmyneckandall.She’sveryaffectionate.Imeanshe’squiteaffectionate,forachild.Sometimesshe’seventooaffectionate.Isortofgaveherakiss,andshesaid,"Whenjagethome7’Shewasgladashelltoseeme.Youcouldtell.

           "Notsoloud.Justnow.Howareyaanyway?"

           "I’mfine.Didyougetmyletter?Iwroteyouafive-page—"

           "Yeah—notsoloud.Thanks."

           Shewrotemethisletter.Ididn’tgetachancetoanswerit,though.Itwasallaboutthisplayshewasininschool.ShetoldmenottomakeanydatesoranythingforFridaysothatIcouldcomeseeit.

           "How’stheplay?"Iaskedher."What’dyousaythenameofitwas?"