Над пропастью во ржи

           IfItoldyouwhatIgoaroundin,youprobablywouldn’tbelieveme.Ialmostwasonceinamovieshort,butIchangedmymindatthelastminute.IfiguredthatanybodythathatesthemoviesasmuchasIdo,I’dbeaphonyifIletthemstickmeinamovieshort.

           Shewasafunnygirl,oldJane.Iwouldn’texactlydescribeherasstrictlybeautiful.Sheknockedmeout,though.Shewassortofmuckle-mouthed.Imeanwhenshewastalkingandshegotexcitedaboutsomething,hermouthsortofwentinaboutfiftydirections,herlipsandall.Thatkilledme.Andsheneverreallycloseditalltheway,hermouth.Itwasalwaysjustalittlebitopen,especiallywhenshegotinhergolfstance,orwhenshewasreadingabook.Shewasalwaysreading,andshereadverygoodbooks.Shereadalotofpoetryandall.Shewastheonlyone,outsidemyfamily,thatIevershowedAllie’sbaseballmittto,withallthepoemswrittenonit.She’dnevermetAllieoranything,becausethatwasherfirstsummerinMaine—beforethat,shewenttoCapeCod—butItoldherquitealotabouthim.Shewasinterestedinthatkindofstuff.

           Mymotherdidn’tlikehertoomuch.ImeanmymotheralwaysthoughtJaneandhermotherweresortofsnubbingherorsomethingwhentheydidn’tsayhello.Mymothersawtheminthevillagealot,becauseJaneusedtodrivetomarketwithhermotherinthisLaSalleconvertibletheyhad.Mymotherdidn’tthinkJanewaspretty,even.Idid,though.Ijustlikedthewayshelooked,that’sall.

           Irememberthisoneafternoon.ItwastheonlytimeoldJaneandIevergotclosetonecking,even.ItwasaSaturdayanditwasraininglikeabastardout,andIwasoveratherhouse,ontheporch—theyhadthisbigscreened-inporch.