Над пропастью во ржи

           "Becauseyoudon’t,"shesaid."Nameonething."

           "Onething?OnethingIlike?"Isaid."Okay."

           Thetroublewas,Icouldn’tconcentratetoohot.Sometimesit’shardtoconcentrate.

           "OnethingIlikealotyoumean?"Iaskedher.

           Shedidn’tanswerme,though.Shewasinacockeyedpositionwaythehellovertheothersideofthebed.Shewasaboutathousandmilesaway."C’monanswerme,"Isaid."OnethingIlikealot,oronethingIjustlike?"

           "Youlikealot."

           "Allright,"Isaid.Butthetroublewas,Icouldn’tconcentrate.AboutallIcouldthinkofwerethosetwonunsthatwentaroundcollectingdoughinthosebeatupoldstrawbaskets.Especiallytheonewiththeglasseswiththoseironrims.AndthisboyIknewatElktonHills.TherewasthisoneboyatElktonHills,namedJamesCastle,thatwouldn’ttakebacksomethinghesaidaboutthisveryconceitedboy,PhilStabile.JamesCastlecalledhimaveryconceitedguy,andoneofStabile’slousyfriendswentandsquealedonhimtoStabile.SoStabile,withaboutsixotherdirtybastards,wentdowntoJamesCastle’sroomandwentinandlockedthegoddamdoorandtriedtomakehimtakebackwhathesaid,buthewouldn’tdoit.Sotheystartedinonhim.Iwon’teventellyouwhattheydidtohim—it’stoorepulsive—buthestillwouldn’ttakeitback,oldJamesCastle.Andyoushould’veseenhim.Hewasaskinnylittleweak-lookingguy,withwristsaboutasbigaspencils.Finally,whathedid,insteadoftakingbackwhathesaid,hejumpedoutthewindow.