Над пропастью во ржи
Chapter 7
Weoncedouble-dated,inEdBanky’scar,andStradlaterwasintheback,withhisdate,andIwasinthefrontwithmine.Whatatechniquethatguyhad. Whathe’ddowas,he’dstartsnowinghisdateinthisveryquiet,sincerevoice—likeasifhewasn’tonlyaveryhandsomeguybutanice,sincereguy,too.Idamnnearpuked,listeningtohim. Hisdatekeptsaying,"No—please.Please,don’t.Please."ButoldStradlaterkeptsnowingherinthisAbrahamLincoln,sincerevoice,andfinallythere’dbethisterrificsilenceinthebackofthecar. Itwasreallyembarrassing.Idon’tthinkhegavethatgirlthetimethatnight—butdamnnear.Damnnear.
WhileIwaslayingtheretryingnottothink,IheardoldStradlatercomebackfromthecanandgoinourroom.Youcouldhearhimputtingawayhiscrumbytoiletarticlesandall,andopeningthewindow. Hewasafresh-airfiend.Then,alittlewhilelater,heturnedoffthelight.Hedidn’tevenlookaroundtoseewhereIwasat.
Itwasevendepressingoutinthestreet.Youcouldn’tevenhearanycarsanymore.Igotfeelingsolonesomeandrotten,IevenfeltlikewakingAckleyup.
"Hey,Ackley,"Isaid,insortofawhisper,soStradlatercouldn’thearmethroughtheshowercurtain.
Ackleydidn’thearme,though.
"Hey,Ackley!"
Hestilldidn’thearme.Hesleptlikearock.
"Hey,Ackley!"
