{"id":"01KG0725KRV1Y3Q27GR0RPHVES","cid":"bafkreiectk7jgde5whkkkujwhphvq5joqpnvhftv26z7wgdg6xgiapu4ta","type":"chapter","properties":{"description":"# Chapter 24\n\n## Overview\nThis entity is chapter 24 of a literary work, identified by its label and content within a larger text. The chapter spans pages 98 to 115 of the source document and is composed of 20 sequential text chunks. It is part of the [More Classics](arke:01KFXT0KM64XT6K8W52TDEE0YS) collection, which includes canonical Western literature.\n\n## Context\nThe chapter is narrated by Holden Caulfield, a teenage boy recently expelled from Pencey Prep. It follows his emotional and psychological struggles as he wanders New York City over a winter weekend. The events occur after his visit to Mr. Antolini, a former teacher whose ambiguous behavior left Holden deeply unsettled. This chapter captures Holden at a moment of crisis, grappling with alienation, fear of adulthood, and the desire to escape societal expectations.\n\n## Contents\nThe chapter details Holden’s internal turmoil as he considers running away west to live in isolation, avoiding phoniness and human connection. He plans to say goodbye to his younger sister, Phoebe, and return the Christmas money she lent him. While waiting for her at the Museum of Natural History, he observes children and reflects on innocence, authenticity, and the inevitability of change. After encountering vandalism (\"Fuck you\" written on walls), he abandons hope of preserving purity in the world. When Phoebe arrives with a suitcase, intending to join him, Holden is overwhelmed. Their emotional confrontation culminates at the Central Park Zoo’s carousel, where Phoebe rides while Holden watches in the rain. In this moment, he experiences profound happiness and decides not to run away. The chapter ends with Holden reflecting on his current stay at a mental health facility and expressing regret for having shared his story, noting, “Don’t ever tell anybody anything. If you do, you start missing everybody.”","description_generated_at":"2026-01-27T17:21:31.607Z","description_model":"Qwen/Qwen3-235B-A22B-Instruct-2507","description_title":"Chapter 24","end_line":5358,"extracted_at":"2026-01-27T17:12:16.511Z","extracted_by":"structure-extraction-lambda","label":"24","source_file":"01KFYTG9MG93RTB6YAW34V48XG","start_line":4525,"text":" 4332\t24\n 4333\tMr. and Mrs. Antolini had this very swanky apartment over on Sutton Place, with\n 4334\ttwo steps that you go down to get in the living room, and a bar and all. I'd been there\n 4335\tquite a few times, because after I left Elkton Hills Mr. Antoilni came up to our house for\n 4336\tdinner quite frequently to find out how I was getting along. He wasn't married then. Then\n 4337\twhen he got married, I used to play tennis with he and Mrs. Antolini quite frequently, out\n 4338\tat the West Side Tennis Club, in Forest Hills, Long Island. Mrs. Antolini, belonged there.\n 4339\tShe was lousy with dough. She was about sixty years older than Mr. Antolini, but they\n 4340\tseemed to get along quite well. For one thing, they were both very intellectual, especially\n 4341\tMr. Antolini except that he was more witty than intellectual when you were with him,\n 4342\tsort of like D.B. Mrs. Antolini was mostly serious. She had asthma pretty bad. They both\n 4343\tread all D.B.'s stories--Mrs. Antolini, too--and when D.B. went to Hollywood, Mr.\n 4344\tAntolini phoned him up and told him not to go. He went anyway, though. Mr. Antolini\n 4345\tsaid that anybody that could write like D.B. had no business going out to Hollywood.\n 4346\tThat's exactly what I said, practically.\n 4347\tI would have walked down to their house, because I didn't want to spend any of\n 4348\tPhoebe's Christmas dough that I didn't have to, but I felt funny when I got outside. Sort of\n 4349\tdizzy. So I took a cab. I didn't want to, but I did. I had a helluva time even finding a cab.\n\n\n 4350\tOld Mr. Antolini answered the door when I rang the bell--after the elevator boy\n 4351\tfinally let me up, the bastard. He had on his bathrobe and slippers, and he had a highball\n 4352\tin one hand. He was a pretty sophisticated guy, and he was a pretty heavy drinker.\n 4353\t\"Holden, m'boy!\" he said. \"My God, he's grown another twenty inches. Fine to see you.\"\n 4354\t\"How are you, Mr. Antolini? How's Mrs. Antolini?\"\n 4355\t\"We're both just dandy. Let's have that coat.\" He took my coat off me and hung it\n 4356\tup. \"I expected to see a day-old infant in your arms. Nowhere to turn. Snowflakes in your\n 4357\teyelashes.\" He's a very witty guy sometimes. He turned around and yelled out to the\n 4358\tkitchen, \"Lillian! How's the coffee coming?\" Lillian was Mrs. Antolini's first name.\n 4359\t\"It's all ready,\" she yelled back. \"Is that Holden? Hello, Holden!\"\n 4360\t\"Hello, Mrs. Antolini!\"\n 4361\tYou were always yelling when you were there. That's because the both of them\n 4362\twere never in the same room at the same time. It was sort of funny.\n 4363\t\"Sit down, Holden,\" Mr. Antolini said. You could tell he was a little oiled up. The\n 4364\troom looked like they'd just had a party. Glasses were all over the place, and dishes with\n 4365\tpeanuts in them. \"Excuse the appearance of the place,\" he said. \"We've been entertaining\n 4366\tsome Buffalo friends of Mrs. Antolini's . . . Some buffaloes, as a matter of fact.\"\n 4367\tI laughed, and Mrs. Antolini yelled something in to me from the kitchen, but I\n 4368\tcouldn't hear her. \"What'd she say?\" I asked Mr. Antolini.\n 4369\t\"She said not to look at her when she comes in. She just arose from the sack.\n 4370\tHave a cigarette. Are you smoking now?\"\n 4371\t\"Thanks,\" I said. I took a cigarette from the box he offered me. \"Just once in a\n 4372\twhile. I'm a moderate smoker.\"\n 4373\t\"I'll bet you are,\" he said. He gave me a light from this big lighter off the table.\n 4374\t\"So. You and Pencey are no longer one,\" he said. He always said things that way.\n 4375\tSometimes it amused me a lot and sometimes it didn't. He sort of did it a little bit too\n 4376\tmuch. I don't mean he wasn't witty or anything--he was--but sometimes it gets on your\n 4377\tnerves when somebody's always saying things like \"So you and Pencey are no longer\n 4378\tone.\" D.B. does it too much sometimes, too.\n 4379\t\"What was the trouble?\" Mr. Antolini asked me. \"How'd you do in English? I'll\n 4380\tshow you the door in short order if you flunked English, you little ace composition\n 4381\twriter.\"\n 4382\t\"Oh, I passed English all right. It was mostly literature, though. I only wrote about\n 4383\ttwo compositions the whole term,\" I said. \"I flunked Oral Expression, though. They had\n 4384\tthis course you had to take, Oral Expression. That I flunked.\"\n 4385\t\"Why?\"\n 4386\t\"Oh, I don't know.\" I didn't feel much like going into It. I was still feeling sort of\n 4387\tdizzy or something, and I had a helluva headache all of a sudden. I really did. But you\n 4388\tcould tell he was interested, so I told him a little bit about it. \"It's this course where each\n 4389\tboy in class has to get up in class and make a speech. You know. Spontaneous and all.\n 4390\tAnd if the boy digresses at all, you're supposed to yell 'Digression!' at him as fast as you\n 4391\tcan. It just about drove me crazy. I got an F in it.\"\n 4392\t\"Why?\"\n 4393\t\"Oh, I don't know. That digression business got on my nerves. I don't know. The\n 4394\ttrouble with me is, I like it when somebody digresses. It's more interesting and all.\"\n\n\n 4395\t\"You don't care to have somebody stick to the point when he tells you\n 4396\tsomething?\"\n 4397\t\"Oh, sure! I like somebody to stick to the point and all. But I don't like them to\n 4398\tstick too much to the point. I don't know. I guess I don't like it when somebody sticks to\n 4399\tthe point all the time. The boys that got the best marks in Oral Expression were the ones\n 4400\tthat stuck to the point all the time--I admit it. But there was this one boy, Richard\n 4401\tKinsella. He didn't stick to the point too much, and they were always yelling 'Digression!'\n 4402\tat him. It was terrible, because in the first place, he was a very nervous guy--I mean he\n 4403\twas a very nervous guy--and his lips were always shaking whenever it was his time to\n 4404\tmake a speech, and you could hardly hear him if you were sitting way in the back of the\n 4405\troom. When his lips sort of quit shaking a little bit, though, I liked his speeches better\n 4406\tthan anybody else's. He practically flunked the course, though, too. He got a D plus\n 4407\tbecause they kept yelling 'Digression!' at him all the time. For instance, he made this\n 4408\tspeech about this farm his father bought in Vermont. They kept yelling 'Digression!' at\n 4409\thim the whole time he was making it, and this teacher, Mr. Vinson, gave him an F on it\n 4410\tbecause he hadn't told what kind of animals and vegetables and stuff grew on the farm\n 4411\tand all. What he did was, Richard Kinsella, he'd start telling you all about that stuff--then\n 4412\tall of a sudden he'd start telling you about this letter his mother got from his uncle, and\n 4413\thow his uncle got polio and all when he was forty-two years old, and how he wouldn't let\n 4414\tanybody come to see him in the hospital because he didn't want anybody to see him with\n 4415\ta brace on. It didn't have much to do with the farm--I admit it--but it was nice. It's nice\n 4416\twhen somebody tells you about their uncle. Especially when they start out telling you\n 4417\tabout their father's farm and then all of a sudden get more interested in their uncle. I\n 4418\tmean it's dirty to keep yelling 'Digression!' at him when he's all nice and excited. I don't\n 4419\tknow. It's hard to explain.\" I didn't feel too much like trying, either. For one thing, I had\n 4420\tthis terrific headache all of a sudden. I wished to God old Mrs. Antolini would come in\n 4421\twith the coffee. That's something that annoys hell out of me--I mean if somebody says\n 4422\tthe coffee's all ready and it isn't.\n 4423\t\"Holden. . . One short, faintly stuffy, pedagogical question. Don't you think there's\n 4424\ta time and place for everything? Don't you think if someone starts out to tell you about\n 4425\this father's farm, he should stick to his guns, then get around to telling you about his\n 4426\tuncle's brace? Or, if his uncle's brace is such a provocative subject, shouldn't he have\n 4427\tselected it in the first place as his subject--not the farm?\"\n 4428\tI didn't feel much like thinking and answering and all. I had a headache and I felt\n 4429\tlousy. I even had sort of a stomach-ache, if you want to know the truth.\n 4430\t\"Yes--I don't know. I guess he should. I mean I guess he should've picked his\n 4431\tuncle as a subject, instead of the farm, if that interested him most. But what I mean is,\n 4432\tlots of time you don't know what interests you most till you start talking about something\n 4433\tthat doesn't interest you most. I mean you can't help it sometimes. What I think is, you're\n 4434\tsupposed to leave somebody alone if he's at least being interesting and he's getting all\n 4435\texcited about something. I like it when somebody gets excited about something. It's nice.\n 4436\tYou just didn't know this teacher, Mr. Vinson. He could drive you crazy sometimes, him\n 4437\tand the goddam class. I mean he'd keep telling you to unify and simplify all the time.\n 4438\tSome things you just can't do that to. I mean you can't hardly ever simplify and unify\n 4439\tsomething just because somebody wants you to. You didn't know this guy, Mr. Vinson. I\n 4440\tmean he was very intelligent and all, but you could tell he didn't have too much brains.\"\n\n\n 4441\t\"Coffee, gentlemen, finally,\" Mrs. Antolini said. She came in carrying this tray\n 4442\twith coffee and cakes and stuff on it. \"Holden, don't you even peek at me. I'm a mess.\"\n 4443\t\"Hello, Mrs. Antolini,\" I said. I started to get up and all, but Mr. Antolini got hold\n 4444\tof my jacket and pulled me back down. Old Mrs. Antolini's hair was full of those iron\n 4445\tcurler jobs, and she didn't have any lipstick or anything on. She didn't look too gorgeous.\n 4446\tShe looked pretty old and all.\n 4447\t\"I'll leave this right here. Just dive in, you two,\" she said. She put the tray down\n 4448\ton the cigarette table, pushing all these glasses out of the way. \"How's your mother,\n 4449\tHolden?\"\n 4450\t\"She's fine, thanks. I haven't seen her too recently, but the last I--\"\n 4451\t\"Darling, if Holden needs anything, everything's in the linen closet. The top shelf.\n 4452\tI'm going to bed. I'm exhausted,\" Mrs. Antolini said. She looked it, too. \"Can you boys\n 4453\tmake up the couch by yourselves?\"\n 4454\t\"We'll take care of everything. You run along to bed,\" Mr. Antolini said. He gave\n 4455\tMrs. Antolini a kiss and she said good-by to me and went in the bedroom. They were\n 4456\talways kissing each other a lot in public.\n 4457\tI had part of a cup of coffee and about half of some cake that was as hard as a\n 4458\trock. All old Mr. Antolini had was another highball, though. He makes them strong, too,\n 4459\tyou could tell. He may get to be an alcoholic if he doesn't watch his step.\n 4460\t\"I had lunch with your dad a couple of weeks ago,\" he said all of a sudden. \"Did\n 4461\tyou know that?\"\n 4462\t\"No, I didn't.\"\n 4463\t\"You're aware, of course, that he's terribly concerned about you.\"\n 4464\t\"I know it. I know he is,\" I said.\n 4465\t\"Apparently before he phoned me he'd just had a long, rather harrowing letter\n 4466\tfrom your latest headmaster, to the effect that you were making absolutely no effort at all.\n 4467\tCutting classes. Coming unprepared to all your classes. In general, being an all-around--\"\n 4468\t\"I didn't cut any classes. You weren't allowed to cut any. There were a couple of\n 4469\tthem I didn't attend once in a while, like that Oral Expression I told you about, but I\n 4470\tdidn't cut any.\"\n 4471\tI didn't feel at all like discussing it. The coffee made my stomach feel a little\n 4472\tbetter, but I still had this awful headache.\n 4473\tMr. Antolini lit another cigarette. He smoked like a fiend. Then he said, \"Frankly,\n 4474\tI don't know what the hell to say to you, Holden.\"\n 4475\t\"I know. I'm very hard to talk to. I realize that.\"\n 4476\t\"I have a feeling that you're riding for some kind of a terrible, terrible fall. But I\n 4477\tdon't honestly know what kind. . . Are you listening to me?\"\n 4478\t\"Yes.\"\n 4479\tYou could tell he was trying to concentrate and all.\n 4480\t\"It may be the kind where, at the age of thirty, you sit in some bar hating\n 4481\teverybody who comes in looking as if he might have played football in college. Then\n 4482\tagain, you may pick up just enough education to hate people who say, 'It's a secret\n 4483\tbetween he and I.' Or you may end up in some business office, throwing paper clips at the\n 4484\tnearest stenographer. I just don't know. But do you know what I'm driving at, at all?\"\n 4485\t\"Yes. Sure,\" I said. I did, too. \"But you're wrong about that hating business. I\n 4486\tmean about hating football players and all. You really are. I don't hate too many guys.\n\n\n 4487\tWhat I may do, I may hate them for a little while, like this guy Stradlater I knew at\n 4488\tPencey, and this other boy, Robert Ackley. I hated them once in a while--I admit it--but it\n 4489\tdoesn't last too long, is what I mean. After a while, if I didn't see them, if they didn't\n 4490\tcome in the room, or if I didn't see them in the dining room for a couple of meals, I sort\n 4491\tof missed them. I mean I sort of missed them.\"\n 4492\tMr. Antolini didn't say anything for a while. He got up and got another hunk of\n 4493\tice and put it in his drink, then he sat down again. You could tell he was thinking. I kept\n 4494\twishing, though, that he'd continue the conversation in the morning, instead of now, but\n 4495\the was hot. People are mostly hot to have a discussion when you're not.\n 4496\t\"All right. Listen to me a minute now . . . I may not word this as memorably as I'd\n 4497\tlike to, but I'll write you a letter about it in a day or two. Then you can get it all straight.\n 4498\tBut listen now, anyway.\" He started concentrating again. Then he said, \"This fall I think\n 4499\tyou're riding for--it's a special kind of fall, a horrible kind. The man falling isn't permitted\n 4500\tto feel or hear himself hit bottom. He just keeps falling and falling. The whole\n 4501\tarrangement's designed for men who, at some time or other in their lives, were looking\n 4502\tfor something their own environment couldn't supply them with. Or they thought their\n 4503\town environment couldn't supply them with. So they gave up looking. They gave it up\n 4504\tbefore they ever really even got started. You follow me?\"\n 4505\t\"Yes, sir.\"\n 4506\t\"Sure?\"\n 4507\t\"Yes.\"\n 4508\tHe got up and poured some more booze in his glass. Then he sat down again. He\n 4509\tdidn't say anything for a long time.\n 4510\t\"I don't want to scare you,\" he said, \"but I can very clearly see you dying nobly,\n 4511\tone way or another, for some highly unworthy cause.\" He gave me a funny look. \"If I\n 4512\twrite something down for you, will you read it carefully? And keep it?\"\n 4513\t\"Yes. Sure,\" I said. I did, too. I still have the paper he gave me.\n 4514\tHe went over to this desk on the other side of the room, and without sitting down\n 4515\twrote something on a piece of paper. Then he came back and sat down with the paper in\n 4516\this hand. \"Oddly enough, this wasn't written by a practicing poet. It was written by a\n 4517\tpsychoanalyst named Wilhelm Stekel. Here's what he--Are you still with me?\"\n 4518\t\"Yes, sure I am.\"\n 4519\t\"Here's what he said: 'The mark of the immature man is that he wants to die nobly\n 4520\tfor a cause, while the mark of the mature man is that he wants to live humbly for one.'\"\n 4521\tHe leaned over and handed it to me. I read it right when he gave it to me, and then\n 4522\tI thanked him and all and put it in my pocket. It was nice of him to go to all that trouble.\n 4523\tIt really was. The thing was, though, I didn't feel much like concentrating. Boy, I felt so\n 4524\tdamn tired all of a sudden.\n 4525\tYou could tell he wasn't tired at all, though. He was pretty oiled up, for one thing.\n 4526\t\"I think that one of these days,\" he said, \"you're going to have to find out where you want\n 4527\tto go. And then you've got to start going there. But immediately. You can't afford to lose\n 4528\ta minute. Not you.\"\n 4529\tI nodded, because he was looking right at me and all, but I wasn't too sure what he\n 4530\twas talking about. I was pretty sure I knew, but I wasn't too positive at the time. I was too\n 4531\tdamn tired.\n\n\n 4532\t\"And I hate to tell you,\" he said, \"but I think that once you have a fair idea where\n 4533\tyou want to go, your first move will be to apply yourself in school. You'll have to. You're\n 4534\ta student--whether the idea appeals to you or not. You're in love with knowledge. And I\n 4535\tthink you'll find, once you get past all the Mr. Vineses and their Oral Comp--\"\n 4536\t\"Mr. Vinsons,\" I said. He meant all the Mr. Vinsons, not all the Mr. Vineses. I\n 4537\tshouldn't have interrupted him, though.\n 4538\t\"All right--the Mr. Vinsons. Once you get past all the Mr. Vinsons, you're going\n 4539\tto start getting closer and closer--that is, if you want to, and if you look for it and wait for\n 4540\tit--to the kind of information that will be very, very dear to your heart. Among other\n 4541\tthings, you'll find that you're not the first person who was ever confused and frightened\n 4542\tand even sickened by human behavior. You're by no means alone on that score, you'll be\n 4543\texcited and stimulated to know. Many, many men have been just as troubled morally and\n 4544\tspiritually as you are right now. Happily, some of them kept records of their troubles.\n 4545\tYou'll learn from them--if you want to. Just as someday, if you have something to offer,\n 4546\tsomeone will learn something from you. It's a beautiful reciprocal arrangement. And it\n 4547\tisn't education. It's history. It's poetry.\" He stopped and took a big drink out of his\n 4548\thighball. Then he started again. Boy, he was really hot. I was glad I didn't try to stop him\n 4549\tor anything. \"I'm not trying to tell you,\" he said, \"that only educated and scholarly men\n 4550\tare able to contribute something valuable to the world. It's not so. But I do say that\n 4551\teducated and scholarly men, if they're brilliant and creative to begin with--which,\n 4552\tunfortunately, is rarely the case--tend to leave infinitely more valuable records behind\n 4553\tthem than men do who are merely brilliant and creative. They tend to express themselves\n 4554\tmore clearly, and they usually have a passion for following their thoughts through to the\n 4555\tend. And--most important--nine times out of ten they have more humility than the\n 4556\tunscholarly thinker. Do you follow me at all?\"\n 4557\t\"Yes, sir.\"\n 4558\tHe didn't say anything again for quite a while. I don't know if you've ever done it,\n 4559\tbut it's sort of hard to sit around waiting for somebody to say something when they're\n 4560\tthinking and all. It really is. I kept trying not to yawn. It wasn't that I was bored or\n 4561\tanything--I wasn't--but I was so damn sleepy all of a sudden.\n 4562\t\"Something else an academic education will do for you. If you go along with it\n 4563\tany considerable distance, it'll begin to give you an idea what size mind you have. What\n 4564\tit'll fit and, maybe, what it won't. After a while, you'll have an idea what kind of thoughts\n 4565\tyour particular size mind should be wearing. For one thing, it may save you an\n 4566\textraordinary amount of time trying on ideas that don't suit you, aren't becoming to you.\n 4567\tYou'll begin to know your true measurements and dress your mind accordingly.\"\n 4568\tThen, all of a sudden, I yawned. What a rude bastard, but I couldn't help it!\n 4569\tMr. Antolini just laughed, though. \"C'mon,\" he said, and got up. \"We'll fix up the\n 4570\tcouch for you.\"\n 4571\tI followed him and he went over to this closet and tried to take down some sheets\n 4572\tand blankets and stuff that was on the top shelf, but he couldn't do it with this highball\n 4573\tglass in his hand. So he drank it and then put the glass down on the floor and then he took\n 4574\tthe stuff down. I helped him bring it over to the couch. We both made the bed together.\n 4575\tHe wasn't too hot at it. He didn't tuck anything in very tight. I didn't care, though. I\n 4576\tcould've slept standing up I was so tired.\n 4577\t\"How're all your women?\"\n\n\n 4578\t\"They're okay.\" I was being a lousy conversationalist, but I didn't feel like it.\n 4579\t\"How's Sally?\" He knew old Sally Hayes. I introduced him once.\n 4580\t\"She's all right. I had a date with her this afternoon.\" Boy, it seemed like twenty\n 4581\tyears ago! \"We don't have too much in common any more.\"\n 4582\t\"Helluva pretty girl. What about that other girl? The one you told me about, in\n 4583\tMaine?\"\n 4584\t\"Oh--Jane Gallagher. She's all right. I'm probably gonna give her a buzz\n 4585\ttomorrow.\"\n 4586\tWe were all done making up the couch then. \"It's all yours,\" Mr. Antolini said. \"I\n 4587\tdon't know what the hell you're going to do with those legs of yours.\"\n 4588\t\"That's all right. I'm used to short beds,\" I said. \"Thanks a lot, sir. You and Mrs.\n 4589\tAntolini really saved my life tonight.\"\n 4590\t\"You know where the bathroom is. If there's anything you want, just holler. I'll be\n 4591\tin the kitchen for a while--will the light bother you?\"\n 4592\t\"No--heck, no. Thanks a lot.\"\n 4593\t\"All right. Good night, handsome.\"\n 4594\t\"G'night, sir. Thanks a lot.\"\n 4595\tHe went out in the kitchen and I went in the bathroom and got undressed and all. I\n 4596\tcouldn't brush my teeth because I didn't have any toothbrush with me. I didn't have any\n 4597\tpajamas either and Mr. Antolini forgot to lend me some. So I just went back in the living\n 4598\troom and turned off this little lamp next to the couch, and then I got in bed with just my\n 4599\tshorts on. It was way too short for me, the couch, but I really could've slept standing up\n 4600\twithout batting an eyelash. I laid awake for just a couple of seconds thinking about all\n 4601\tthat stuff Mr. Antolini'd told me. About finding out the size of your mind and all. He was\n 4602\treally a pretty smart guy. But I couldn't keep my goddam eyes open, and I fell asleep.\n 4603\tThen something happened. I don't even like to talk about it.\n 4604\tI woke up all of a sudden. I don't know what time it was or anything, but I woke\n 4605\tup. I felt something on my head, some guy's hand. Boy, it really scared hell out of me.\n 4606\tWhat it was, it was Mr. Antolini's hand. What he was doing was, he was sitting on the\n 4607\tfloor right next to the couch, in the dark and all, and he was sort of petting me or patting\n 4608\tme on the goddam head. Boy, I'll bet I jumped about a thousand feet.\n 4609\t\"What the hellya doing?\" I said.\n 4610\t\"Nothing! I'm simply sitting here, admiring--\"\n 4611\t\"What're ya doing, anyway?\" I said over again. I didn't know what the hell to say-\n 4612\t-I mean I was embarrassed as hell.\n 4613\t\"How 'bout keeping your voice down? I'm simply sitting here--\"\n 4614\t\"I have to go, anyway,\" I said--boy, was I nervous! I started putting on my damn\n 4615\tpants in the dark. I could hardly get them on I was so damn nervous. I know more damn\n 4616\tperverts, at schools and all, than anybody you ever met, and they're always being perverty\n 4617\twhen I'm around.\n 4618\t\"You have to go where?\" Mr. Antolini said. He was trying to act very goddam\n 4619\tcasual and cool and all, but he wasn't any too goddam cool. Take my word.\n 4620\t\"I left my bags and all at the station. I think maybe I'd better go down and get\n 4621\tthem. I have all my stuff in them.\"\n 4622\t\"They'll be there in the morning. Now, go back to bed. I'm going to bed myself.\n 4623\tWhat's the matter with you?\"\n\n\n 4624\t\"Nothing's the matter, it's just that all my money and stuff's in one of my bags. I'll\n 4625\tbe right back. I'll get a cab and be right back,\" I said. Boy, I was falling all over myself in\n 4626\tthe dark. \"The thing is, it isn't mine, the money. It's my mother's, and I--\"\n 4627\t\"Don't be ridiculous, Holden. Get back in that bed. I'm going to bed myself. The\n 4628\tmoney will be there safe and sound in the morn--\"\n 4629\t\"No, no kidding. I gotta get going. I really do.\" I was damn near all dressed\n 4630\talready, except that I couldn't find my tie. I couldn't remember where I'd put my tie. I put\n 4631\ton my jacket and all without it. Old Mr. Antolini was sitting now in the big chair a little\n 4632\tways away from me, watching me. It was dark and all and I couldn't see him so hot, but I\n 4633\tknew he was watching me, all right. He was still boozing, too. I could see his trusty\n 4634\thighball glass in his hand.\n 4635\t\"You're a very, very strange boy.\"\n 4636\t\"I know it,\" I said. I didn't even look around much for my tie. So I went without it.\n 4637\t\"Good-by, sir,\" I said, \"Thanks a lot. No kidding.\"\n 4638\tHe kept walking right behind me when I went to the front door, and when I rang\n 4639\tthe elevator bell he stayed in the damn doorway. All he said was that business about my\n 4640\tbeing a \"very, very strange boy\" again. Strange, my ass. Then he waited in the doorway\n 4641\tand all till the goddam elevator came. I never waited so long for an elevator in my whole\n 4642\tgoddam life. I swear.\n 4643\tI didn't know what the hell to talk about while I was waiting for the elevator, and\n 4644\the kept standing there, so I said, \"I'm gonna start reading some good books. I really am.\"\n 4645\tI mean you had to say something. It was very embarrassing.\n 4646\t\"You grab your bags and scoot right on back here again. I'll leave the door\n 4647\tunlatched.\"\n 4648\t\"Thanks a lot,\" I said. \"G'by!\" The elevator was finally there. I got in and went\n 4649\tdown. Boy, I was shaking like a madman. I was sweating, too. When something perverty\n 4650\tlike that happens, I start sweating like a bastard. That kind of stuff's happened to me\n 4651\tabout twenty times since I was a kid. I can't stand it.\n 4652\t25\n 4653\tWhen I got outside, it was just getting light out. It was pretty cold, too, but it felt\n 4654\tgood because I was sweating so much.\n 4655\tI didn't know where the hell to go. I didn't want to go to another hotel and spend\n 4656\tall Phoebe's dough. So finally all I did was I walked over to Lexington and took the\n 4657\tsubway down to Grand Central. My bags were there and all, and I figured I'd sleep in that\n 4658\tcrazy waiting room where all the benches are. So that's what I did. It wasn't too bad for a\n 4659\twhile because there weren't many people around and I could stick my feet up. But I don't\n 4660\tfeel much like discussing it. It wasn't too nice. Don't ever try it. I mean it. It'll depress\n 4661\tyou.\n 4662\tI only slept till around nine o'clock because a million people started coming in the\n 4663\twaiting room and I had to take my feet down. I can't sleep so hot if I have to keep my feet\n 4664\ton the floor. So I sat up. I still had that headache. It was even worse. And I think I was\n 4665\tmore depressed than I ever was in my whole life.\n\n\n 4666\tI didn't want to, but I started thinking about old Mr. Antolini and I wondered what\n 4667\the'd tell Mrs. Antolini when she saw I hadn't slept there or anything. That part didn't\n 4668\tworry me too much, though, because I knew Mr. Antolini was very smart and that he\n 4669\tcould make up something to tell her. He could tell her I'd gone home or something. That\n 4670\tpart didn't worry me much. But what did worry me was the part about how I'd woke up\n 4671\tand found him patting me on the head and all. I mean I wondered if just maybe I was\n 4672\twrong about thinking be was making a flitty pass at ne. I wondered if maybe he just liked\n 4673\tto pat guys on the head when they're asleep. I mean how can you tell about that stuff for\n 4674\tsure? You can't. I even started wondering if maybe I should've got my bags and gone\n 4675\tback to his house, the way I'd said I would. I mean I started thinking that even if he was a\n 4676\tflit he certainly'd been very nice to me. I thought how he hadn't minded it when I'd called\n 4677\thim up so late, and how he'd told me to come right over if I felt like it. And how he went\n 4678\tto all that trouble giving me that advice about finding out the size of your mind and all,\n 4679\tand how he was the only guy that'd even gone near that boy James Castle I told you about\n 4680\twhen he was dead. I thought about all that stuff. And the more I thought about it, the\n 4681\tmore depressed I got. I mean I started thinking maybe I should've gone back to his house.\n 4682\tMaybe he was only patting my head just for the hell of it. The more I thought about it,\n 4683\tthough, the more depressed and screwed up about it I got. What made it even worse, my\n 4684\teyes were sore as hell. They felt sore and burny from not getting too much sleep. Besides\n 4685\tthat, I was getting sort of a cold, and I didn't even have a goddam handkerchief with me. I\n 4686\thad some in my suitcase, but I didn't feel like taking it out of that strong box and opening\n 4687\tit up right in public and all.\n 4688\tThere was this magazine that somebody'd left on the bench next to me, so I\n 4689\tstarted reading it, thinking it'd make me stop thinking about Mr. Antolini and a million\n 4690\tother things for at least a little while. But this damn article I started reading made me feel\n 4691\talmost worse. It was all about hormones. It described how you should look, your face and\n 4692\teyes and all, if your hormones were in good shape, and I didn't look that way at all. I\n 4693\tlooked exactly like the guy in the article with lousy hormones. So I started getting\n 4694\tworried about my hormones. Then I read this other article about how you can tell if you\n 4695\thave cancer or not. It said if you had any sores in your mouth that didn't heal pretty\n 4696\tquickly, it was a sign that you probably had cancer. I'd had this sore on the inside of my\n 4697\tlip for about two weeks. So figured I was getting cancer. That magazine was some little\n 4698\tcheerer upper. I finally quit reading it and went outside for a walk. I figured I'd be dead in\n 4699\ta couple of months because I had cancer. I really did. I was even positive I would be. It\n 4700\tcertainly didn't make me feel too gorgeous. It'sort of looked like it was going to rain, but I\n 4701\twent for this walk anyway. For one thing, I figured I ought to get some breakfast. I wasn't\n 4702\tat all hungry, but I figured I ought to at least eat something. I mean at least get something\n 4703\twith some vitamins in it. So I started walking way over east, where the pretty cheap\n 4704\trestaurants are, because I didn't want to spend a lot of dough.\n 4705\tWhile I was walking, I passed these two guys that were unloading this big\n 4706\tChristmas tree off a truck. One guy kept saying to the other guy, \"Hold the sonuvabitch\n 4707\tup! Hold it up, for Chrissake!\" It certainly was a gorgeous way to talk about a Christmas\n 4708\ttree. It was sort of funny, though, in an awful way, and I started to sort of laugh. It was\n 4709\tabout the worst thing I could've done, because the minute I started to laugh I thought I\n 4710\twas going to vomit. I really did. I even started to, but it went away. I don't know why. I\n 4711\tmean I hadn't eaten anything unsanitary or like that and usually I have quite a strong\n\n\n 4712\tstomach. Anyway, I got over it, and I figured I'd feel better if I had something to eat. So I\n 4713\twent in this very cheap-looking restaurant and had doughnuts and coffee. Only, I didn't\n 4714\teat the doughnuts. I couldn't swallow them too well. The thing is, if you get very\n 4715\tdepressed about something, it's hard as hell to swallow. The waiter was very nice,\n 4716\tthough. He took them back without charging me. I just drank the coffee. Then I left and\n 4717\tstarted walking over toward Fifth Avenue.\n 4718\tIt was Monday and all, and pretty near Christmas, and all the stores were open. So\n 4719\tit wasn't too bad walking on Fifth Avenue. It was fairly Christmasy. All those scraggy-\n 4720\tlooking Santa Clauses were standing on corners ringing those bells, and the Salvation\n 4721\tArmy girls, the ones that don't wear any lipstick or anything, were tinging bells too. I sort\n 4722\tof kept looking around for those two nuns I'd met at breakfast the day before, but I didn't\n 4723\tsee them. I knew I wouldn't, because they'd told me they'd come to New York to be\n 4724\tschoolteachers, but I kept looking for them anyway. Anyway, it was pretty Christmasy all\n 4725\tof a sudden. A million little kids were downtown with their mothers, getting on and off\n 4726\tbuses and coming in and out of stores. I wished old Phoebe was around. She's not little\n 4727\tenough any more to go stark staring mad in the toy department, but she enjoys horsing\n 4728\taround and looking at the people. The Christmas before last I took her downtown\n 4729\tshopping with me. We had a helluva time. I think it was in Bloomingdale's. We went in\n 4730\tthe shoe department and we pretended she--old Phoebe-- wanted to get a pair of those\n 4731\tvery high storm shoes, the kind that have about a million holes to lace up. We had the\n 4732\tpoor salesman guy going crazy. Old Phoebe tried on about twenty pairs, and each time\n 4733\tthe poor guy had to lace one shoe all the way up. It was a dirty trick, but it killed old\n 4734\tPhoebe. We finally bought a pair of moccasins and charged them. The salesman was very\n 4735\tnice about it. I think he knew we were horsing around, because old Phoebe always starts\n 4736\tgiggling.\n 4737\tAnyway, I kept walking and walking up Fifth Avenue, without any tie on or\n 4738\tanything. Then all of a sudden, something very spooky started happening. Every time I\n 4739\tcame to the end of a block and stepped off the goddam curb, I had this feeling that I'd\n 4740\tnever get to the other side of the street. I thought I'd just go down, down, down, and\n 4741\tnobody'd ever see me again. Boy, did it scare me. You can't imagine. I started sweating\n 4742\tlike a bastard--my whole shirt and underwear and everything. Then I started doing\n 4743\tsomething else. Every time I'd get to the end of a block I'd make believe I was talking to\n 4744\tmy brother Allie. I'd say to him, \"Allie, don't let me disappear. Allie, don't let me\n 4745\tdisappear. Allie, don't let me disappear. Please, Allie.\" And then when I'd reach the other\n 4746\tside of the street without disappearing, I'd thank him. Then it would start all over again as\n 4747\tsoon as I got to the next corner. But I kept going and all. I was sort of afraid to stop, I\n 4748\tthink--I don't remember, to tell you the truth. I know I didn't stop till I was way up in the\n 4749\tSixties, past the zoo and all. Then I sat down on this bench. I could hardly get my breath,\n 4750\tand I was still sweating like a bastard. I sat there, I guess, for about an hour. Finally, what\n 4751\tI decided I'd do, I decided I'd go away. I decided I'd never go home again and I'd never\n 4752\tgo away to another school again. I decided I'd just see old Phoebe and sort of say good-\n 4753\tby to her and all, and give her back her Christmas dough, and then I'd start hitchhiking\n 4754\tmy way out West. What I'd do, I figured, I'd go down to the Holland Tunnel and bum a\n 4755\tride, and then I'd bum another one, and another one, and another one, and in a few days\n 4756\tI'd be somewhere out West where it was very pretty and sunny and where nobody'd know\n 4757\tme and I'd get a job. I figured I could get a job at a filling station somewhere, putting gas\n\n\n 4758\tand oil in people's cars. I didn't care what kind of job it was, though. Just so people didn't\n 4759\tknow me and I didn't know anybody. I thought what I'd do was, I'd pretend I was one of\n 4760\tthose deaf-mutes. That way I wouldn't have to have any goddam stupid useless\n 4761\tconversations with anybody. If anybody wanted to tell me something, they'd have to\n 4762\twrite it on a piece of paper and shove it over to me. They'd get bored as hell doing that\n 4763\tafter a while, and then I'd be through with having conversations for the rest of my life.\n 4764\tEverybody'd think I was just a poor deaf-mute bastard and they'd leave me alone. They'd\n 4765\tlet me put gas and oil in their stupid cars, and they'd pay me a salary and all for it, and I'd\n 4766\tbuild me a little cabin somewhere with the dough I made and live there for the rest of my\n 4767\tlife. I'd build it right near the woods, but not right in them, because I'd want it to be sunny\n 4768\tas hell all the time. I'd cook all my own food, and later on, if I wanted to get married or\n 4769\tsomething, I'd meet this beautiful girl that was also a deaf-mute and we'd get married.\n 4770\tShe'd come and live in my cabin with me, and if she wanted to say anything to me, she'd\n 4771\thave to write it on a goddam piece of paper, like everybody else. If we had any children,\n 4772\twe'd hide them somewhere. We could buy them a lot of books and teach them how to\n 4773\tread and write by ourselves.\n 4774\tI got excited as hell thinking about it. I really did. I knew the part about\n 4775\tpretending I was a deaf-mute was crazy, but I liked thinking about it anyway. But I really\n 4776\tdecided to go out West and all. All I wanted to do first was say good-by to old Phoebe.\n 4777\tSo all of a sudden, I ran like a madman across the street--I damn near got killed doing it,\n 4778\tif you want to know the truth--and went in this stationery store and bought a pad and\n 4779\tpencil. I figured I'd write her a note telling her where to meet me so I could say good-by\n 4780\tto her and give her back her Christmas dough, and then I'd take the note up to her school\n 4781\tand get somebody in the principal's office to give it to her. But I just put the pad and\n 4782\tpencil in my pocket and started walking fast as hell up to her school--I was too excited to\n 4783\twrite the note right in the stationery store. I walked fast because I wanted her to get the\n 4784\tnote before she went home for lunch, and I didn't have any too much time.\n 4785\tI knew where her school was, naturally, because I went there myself when I was a\n 4786\tkid. When I got there, it felt funny. I wasn't sure I'd remember what it was like inside, but\n 4787\tI did. It was exactly the same as it was when I went there. They had that same big yard\n 4788\tinside, that was always sort of dark, with those cages around the light bulbs so they\n 4789\twouldn't break if they got hit with a ball. They had those same white circles painted all\n 4790\tover the floor, for games and stuff. And those same old basketball rings without any nets-\n 4791\t-just the backboards and the rings.\n 4792\tNobody was around at all, probably because it wasn't recess period, and it wasn't\n 4793\tlunchtime yet. All I saw was one little kid, a colored kid, on his way to the bathroom. He\n 4794\thad one of those wooden passes sticking out of his hip pocket, the same way we used to\n 4795\thave, to show he had permission and all to go to the bathroom.\n 4796\tI was still sweating, but not so bad any more. I went over to the stairs and sat\n 4797\tdown on the first step and took out the pad and pencil I'd bought. The stairs had the same\n 4798\tsmell they used to have when I went there. Like somebody'd just taken a leak on them.\n 4799\tSchool stairs always smell like that. Anyway, I sat there and wrote this note:\n 4800\tDEAR PHOEBE,\n 4801\tI can't wait around till Wednesday any more so I will\n\n\n 4802\tprobably hitch hike out west this afternoon. Meet me at the\n 4803\tMuseum of art near the door at quarter past 12 if you can and I\n 4804\twill give you your Christmas dough back. I didn't spend much.\n 4805\tLove,\n 4806\tHOLDEN\n 4807\tHer school was practically right near the museum, and she had to pass it on her\n 4808\tway home for lunch anyway, so I knew she could meet me all right.\n 4809\tThen I started walking up the stairs to the principal's office so I could give the\n 4810\tnote to somebody that would bring it to her in her classroom. I folded it about ten times\n 4811\tso nobody'd open it. You can't trust anybody in a goddam school. But I knew they'd give\n 4812\tit to her if I was her brother and all.\n 4813\tWhile I was walking up the stairs, though, all of a sudden I thought I was going to\n 4814\tpuke again. Only, I didn't. I sat down for a second, and then I felt better. But while I was\n 4815\tsitting down, I saw something that drove me crazy. Somebody'd written \"Fuck you\" on\n 4816\tthe wall. It drove me damn near crazy. I thought how Phoebe and all the other little kids\n 4817\twould see it, and how they'd wonder what the hell it meant, and then finally some dirty\n 4818\tkid would tell them--all cockeyed, naturally--what it meant, and how they'd all think\n 4819\tabout it and maybe even worry about it for a couple of days. I kept wanting to kill\n 4820\twhoever'd written it. I figured it was some perverty bum that'd sneaked in the school late\n 4821\tat night to take a leak or something and then wrote it on the wall. I kept picturing myself\n 4822\tcatching him at it, and how I'd smash his head on the stone steps till he was good and\n 4823\tgoddam dead and bloody. But I knew, too, I wouldn't have the guts to do it. I knew that.\n 4824\tThat made me even more depressed. I hardly even had the guts to rub it off the wall with\n 4825\tmy hand, if you want to know the truth. I was afraid some teacher would catch me\n 4826\trubbing it off and would think I'd written it. But I rubbed it out anyway, finally. Then I\n 4827\twent on up to the principal's office.\n 4828\tThe principal didn't seem to be around, but some old lady around a hundred years\n 4829\told was sitting at a typewriter. I told her I was Phoebe Caulfield's brother, in 4B-1, and I\n 4830\tasked her to please give Phoebe the note. I said it was very important because my mother\n 4831\twas sick and wouldn't have lunch ready for Phoebe and that she'd have to meet me and\n 4832\thave lunch in a drugstore. She was very nice about it, the old lady. She took the note off\n 4833\tme and called some other lady, from the next office, and the other lady went to give it to\n 4834\tPhoebe. Then the old lady that was around a hundred years old and I shot the breeze for a\n 4835\twhile, She was pretty nice, and I told her how I'd gone there to school, too, and my\n 4836\tbrothers. She asked me where I went to school now, and I told her Pencey, and she said\n 4837\tPencey was a very good school. Even if I'd wanted to, I wouldn't have had the strength to\n 4838\tstraighten her out. Besides, if she thought Pencey was a very good school, let her think it.\n 4839\tYou hate to tell new stuff to somebody around a hundred years old. They don't like to\n 4840\thear it. Then, after a while, I left. It was funny. She yelled \"Good luck!\" at me the same\n 4841\tway old Spencer did when I left Pencey. God, how I hate it when somebody yells \"Good\n 4842\tluck!\" at me when I'm leaving somewhere. It's depressing.\n 4843\tI went down by a different staircase, and I saw another \"Fuck you\" on the wall. I\n 4844\ttried to rub it off with my hand again, but this one was scratched on, with a knife or\n\n\n 4845\tsomething. It wouldn't come off. It's hopeless, anyway. If you had a million years to do it\n 4846\tin, you couldn't rub out even half the \"Fuck you\" signs in the world. It's impossible.\n 4847\tI looked at the clock in the recess yard, and it was only twenty to twelve, so I had\n 4848\tquite a lot of time to kill before I met old Phoebe. But I just walked over to the museum\n 4849\tanyway. There wasn't anyplace else to go. I thought maybe I might stop in a phone booth\n 4850\tand give old Jane Gallagher a buzz before I started bumming my way west, but I wasn't\n 4851\tin the mood. For one thing, I wasn't even sure she was home for vacation yet. So I just\n 4852\twent over to the museum, and hung around.\n 4853\tWhile I was waiting around for Phoebe in the museum, right inside the doors and\n 4854\tall, these two little kids came up to me and asked me if I knew where the mummies were.\n 4855\tThe one little kid, the one that asked me, had his pants open. I told him about it. So he\n 4856\tbuttoned them up right where he was standing talking to me--he didn't even bother to go\n 4857\tbehind a post or anything. He killed me. I would've laughed, but I was afraid I'd feel like\n 4858\tvomiting again, so I didn't. \"Where're the mummies, fella?\" the kid said again. \"Ya\n 4859\tknow?\"\n 4860\tI horsed around with the two of them a little bit. \"The mummies? What're they?\" I\n 4861\tasked the one kid.\n 4862\t\"You know. The mummies--them dead guys. That get buried in them toons and\n 4863\tall.\"\n 4864\tToons. That killed me. He meant tombs.\n 4865\t\"How come you two guys aren't in school?\" I said.\n 4866\t\"No school t'day,\" the kid that did all the talking said. He was lying, sure as I'm\n 4867\talive, the little bastard. I didn't have anything to do, though, till old Phoebe showed up, so\n 4868\tI helped them find the place where the mummies were. Boy, I used to know exactly\n 4869\twhere they were, but I hadn't been in that museum in years.\n 4870\t\"You two guys so interested in mummies?\" I said.\n 4871\t\"Yeah.\"\n 4872\t\"Can't your friend talk?\" I said.\n 4873\t\"He ain't my friend. He's my brudda.\"\n 4874\t\"Can't he talk?\" I looked at the one that wasn't doing any talking. \"Can't you talk\n 4875\tat all?\" I asked him.\n 4876\t\"Yeah,\" he said. \"I don't feel like it.\"\n 4877\tFinally we found the place where the mummies were, and we went in.\n 4878\t\"You know how the Egyptians buried their dead?\" I asked the one kid.\n 4879\t\"Naa.\"\n 4880\t\"Well, you should. It's very interesting. They wrapped their faces up in these\n 4881\tcloths that were treated with some secret chemical. That way they could be buried in their\n 4882\ttombs for thousands of years and their faces wouldn't rot or anything. Nobody knows\n 4883\thow to do it except the Egyptians. Even modern science.\"\n 4884\tTo get to where the mummies were, you had to go down this very narrow sort of\n 4885\thall with stones on the side that they'd taken right out of this Pharaoh's tomb and all. It\n 4886\twas pretty spooky, and you could tell the two hot-shots I was with weren't enjoying it too\n 4887\tmuch. They stuck close as hell to me, and the one that didn't talk at all practically was\n 4888\tholding onto my sleeve. \"Let's go,\" he said to his brother. \"I seen 'em awreddy. C'mon,\n 4889\they.\" He turned around and beat it.\n 4890\t\"He's got a yella streak a mile wide,\" the other one said. \"So long!\" He beat it too.\n\n\n 4891\tI was the only one left in the tomb then. I sort of liked it, in a way. It was so nice\n 4892\tand peaceful. Then, all of a sudden, you'd never guess what I saw on the wall. Another\n 4893\t\"Fuck you.\" It was written with a red crayon or something, right under the glass part of\n 4894\tthe wall, under the stones.\n 4895\tThat's the whole trouble. You can't ever find a place that's nice and peaceful,\n 4896\tbecause there isn't any. You may think there is, but once you get there, when you're not\n 4897\tlooking, somebody'll sneak up and write \"Fuck you\" right under your nose. Try it\n 4898\tsometime. I think, even, if I ever die, and they stick me in a cemetery, and I have a\n 4899\ttombstone and all, it'll say \"Holden Caulfield\" on it, and then what year I was born and\n 4900\twhat year I died, and then right under that it'll say \"Fuck you.\" I'm positive, in fact.\n 4901\tAfter I came out of the place where the mummies were, I had to go to the\n 4902\tbathroom. I sort of had diarrhea, if you want to know the truth. I didn't mind the diarrhea\n 4903\tpart too much, but something else happened. When I was coming out of the can, right\n 4904\tbefore I got to the door, I sort of passed out. I was lucky, though. I mean I could've killed\n 4905\tmyself when I hit the floor, but all I did was sort of land on my side. it was a funny thing,\n 4906\tthough. I felt better after I passed out. I really did. My arm sort of hurt, from where I fell,\n 4907\tbut I didn't feel so damn dizzy any more.\n 4908\tIt was about ten after twelve or so then, and so I went back and stood by the door\n 4909\tand waited for old Phoebe. I thought how it might be the last time I'd ever see her again.\n 4910\tAny of my relatives, I mean. I figured I'd probably see them again, but not for years. I\n 4911\tmight come home when I was about thirty-five. I figured, in case somebody got sick and\n 4912\twanted to see me before they died, but that would be the only reason I'd leave my cabin\n 4913\tand come back. I even started picturing how it would be when I came back. I knew my\n 4914\tmother'd get nervous as hell and start to cry and beg me to stay home and not go back to\n 4915\tmy cabin, but I'd go anyway. I'd be casual as hell. I'd make her calm down, and then I'd\n 4916\tgo over to the other side of the living room and take out this cigarette case and light a\n 4917\tcigarette, cool as all hell. I'd ask them all to visit me sometime if they wanted to, but I\n 4918\twouldn't insist or anything. What I'd do, I'd let old Phoebe come out and visit me in the\n 4919\tsummertime and on Christmas vacation and Easter vacation. And I'd let D.B. come out\n 4920\tand visit me for a while if he wanted a nice, quiet place for his writing, but he couldn't\n 4921\twrite any movies in my cabin, only stories and books. I'd have this rule that nobody could\n 4922\tdo anything phony when they visited me. If anybody tried to do anything phony, they\n 4923\tcouldn't stay.\n 4924\tAll of a sudden I looked at the clock in the checkroom and it was twenty-five of\n 4925\tone. I began to get scared that maybe that old lady in the school had told that other lady\n 4926\tnot to give old Phoebe my message. I began to get scared that maybe she'd told her to\n 4927\tburn it or something. It really scared hell out of me. I really wanted to see old Phoebe\n 4928\tbefore I hit the road. I mean I had her Christmas dough and all.\n 4929\tFinally, I saw her. I saw her through the glass part of the door. The reason I saw\n 4930\ther, she had my crazy hunting hat on--you could see that hat about ten miles away.\n 4931\tI went out the doors and started down these stone stairs to meet her. The thing I\n 4932\tcouldn't understand, she had this big suitcase with her. She was just coming across Fifth\n 4933\tAvenue, and she was dragging this goddam big suitcase with her. She could hardly drag\n 4934\tit. When I got up closer, I saw it was my old suitcase, the one I used to use when I was at\n 4935\tWhooton. I couldn't figure out what the hell she was doing with it. \"Hi,\" she said when\n 4936\tshe got up close. She was all out of breath from that crazy suitcase.\n\n\n 4937\t\"I thought maybe you weren't coming,\" I said. \"What the hell's in that bag? I don't\n 4938\tneed anything. I'm just going the way I am. I'm not even taking the bags I got at the\n 4939\tstation. What the hellya got in there?\"\n 4940\tShe put the suitcase down. \"My clothes,\" she said. \"I'm going with you. Can I?\n 4941\tOkay?\"\n 4942\t\"What?\" I said. I almost fell over when she said that. I swear to God I did. I got\n 4943\tsort of dizzy and I thought I was going to pass out or something again.\n 4944\t\"I took them down the back elevator so Charlene wouldn't see me. It isn't heavy.\n 4945\tAll I have in it is two dresses and my moccasins and my underwear and socks and some\n 4946\tother things. Feel it. It isn't heavy. Feel it once. . . Can't I go with you? Holden? Can't I?\n 4947\tPlease.\"\n 4948\t\"No. Shut up.\"\n 4949\tI thought I was going to pass out cold. I mean I didn't mean to tell her to shut up\n 4950\tand all, but I thought I was going to pass out again.\n 4951\t\"Why can't I? Please, Holden! I won't do anything-- I'll just go with you, that's all!\n 4952\tI won't even take my clothes with me if you don't want me to--I'll just take my--\"\n 4953\t\"You can't take anything. Because you're not going. I'm going alone. So shut up.\"\n 4954\t\"Please, Holden. Please let me go. I'll be very, very, very--You won't even--\"\n 4955\t\"You're not going. Now, shut up! Gimme that bag,\" I said. I took the bag off her. I\n 4956\twas almost all set to hit her, I thought I was going to smack her for a second. I really did.\n 4957\tShe started to cry.\n 4958\t\"I thought you were supposed to be in a play at school and all I thought you were\n 4959\tsupposed to be Benedict Arnold in that play and all,\" I said. I said it very nasty.\n 4960\t\"Whuddaya want to do? Not be in the play, for God's sake?\" That made her cry even\n 4961\tharder. I was glad. All of a sudden I wanted her to cry till her eyes practically dropped\n 4962\tout. I almost hated her. I think I hated her most because she wouldn't be in that play any\n 4963\tmore if she went away with me.\n 4964\t\"Come on,\" I said. I started up the steps to the museum again. I figured what I'd\n 4965\tdo was, I'd check the crazy suitcase she'd brought in the checkroom, andy then she could\n 4966\tget it again at three o'clock, after school. I knew she couldn't take it back to school with\n 4967\ther. \"Come on, now,\" I said.\n 4968\tShe didn't go up the steps with me, though. She wouldn't come with me. I went up\n 4969\tanyway, though, and brought the bag in the checkroom and checked it, and then I came\n 4970\tdown again. She was still standing there on the sidewalk, but she turned her back on me\n 4971\twhen I came up to her. She can do that. She can turn her back on you when she feels like\n 4972\tit. \"I'm not going away anywhere. I changed my mind. So stop crying, and shut up,\" I\n 4973\tsaid. The funny part was, she wasn't even crying when I said that. I said it anyway,\n 4974\tthough, \"C'mon, now. I'll walk you back to school. C'mon, now. You'll be late.\"\n 4975\tShe wouldn't answer me or anything. I sort of tried to get hold of her old hand, but\n 4976\tshe wouldn't let me. She kept turning around on me.\n 4977\t\"Didja have your lunch? Ya had your lunch yet?\" I asked her.\n 4978\tShe wouldn't answer me. All she did was, she took off my red hunting hat--the\n 4979\tone I gave her--and practically chucked it right in my face. Then she turned her back on\n 4980\tme again. It nearly killed me, but I didn't say anything. I just picked it up and stuck it in\n 4981\tmy coat pocket.\n 4982\t\"Come on, hey. I'll walk you back to school,\" I said.\n\n\n 4983\t\"I'm not going back to school.\"\n 4984\tI didn't know what to say when she said that. I just stood there for a couple of\n 4985\tminutes.\n 4986\t\"You have to go back to school. You want to be in that play, don't you? You want\n 4987\tto be Benedict Arnold, don't you?\"\n 4988\t\"No.\"\n 4989\t\"Sure you do. Certainly you do. C'mon, now, let's go,\" I said. \"In the first place,\n 4990\tI'm not going away anywhere, I told you. I'm going home. I'm going home as soon as you\n 4991\tgo back to school. First I'm gonna go down to the station and get my bags, and then I'm\n 4992\tgonna go straight--\"\n 4993\t\"I said I'm not going back to school. You can do what you want to do, but I'm not\n 4994\tgoing back to chool,\" she said. \"So shut up.\" It was the first time she ever told me to shut\n 4995\tup. It sounded terrible. God, it sounded terrible. It sounded worse than swearing. She still\n 4996\twouldn't look at me either, and every time I sort of put my hand on her shoulder or\n 4997\tsomething, she wouldn't let me.\n 4998\t\"Listen, do you want to go for a walk?\" I asked her. \"Do you want to take a walk\n 4999\tdown to the zoo? If I let you not go back to school this afternoon and go for walk, will\n 5000\tyou cut out this crazy stuff?\"\n 5001\tShe wouldn't answer me, so I said it over again. \"If I let you skip school this\n 5002\tafternoon and go for a little walk, will you cut out the crazy stuff? Will you go back to\n 5003\tschool tomorrow like a good girl?\"\n 5004\t\"I may and I may not,\" she said. Then she ran right the hell across the street,\n 5005\twithout even looking to see if any cars were coming. She's a madman sometimes.\n 5006\tI didn't follow her, though. I knew she'd follow me, so I started walking\n 5007\tdowntown toward the zoo, on the park side of the street, and she started walking\n 5008\tdowntown on the other goddam side of the street, She wouldn't look over at me at all, but\n 5009\tI could tell she was probably watching me out of the corner of her crazy eye to see where\n 5010\tI was going and all. Anyway, we kept walking that way all the way to the zoo. The only\n 5011\tthing that bothered me was when a double-decker bus came along because then I couldn't\n 5012\tsee across the street and I couldn't see where the hell she was. But when we got to the\n 5013\tzoo, I yelled over to her, \"Phoebe! I'm going in the zoo! C'mon, now!\" She wouldn't look\n 5014\tat me, but I could tell she heard me, and when I started down the steps to the zoo I turned\n 5015\taround and saw she was crossing the street and following me and all.\n 5016\tThere weren't too many people in the zoo because it was sort of a lousy day, but\n 5017\tthere were a few around the sea lions' swimming pool and all. I started to go by but old\n 5018\tPhoebe stopped and made out she was watching the sea lions getting fed--a guy was\n 5019\tthrowing fish at them--so I went back. I figured it was a good chance to catch up with her\n 5020\tand all. I went up and sort of stood behind her and sort of put my hands on her shoulders,\n 5021\tbut she bent her knees and slid out from me--she can certainly be very snotty when she\n 5022\twants to. She kept standing there while the sea lions were getting fed and I stood right\n 5023\tbehind her. I didn't put my hands on her shoulders again or anything because if I had she\n 5024\treally would've beat it on me. Kids are funny. You have to watch what you're doing.\n 5025\tShe wouldn't walk right next to me when we left the sea lions, but she didn't walk\n 5026\ttoo far away. She sort of walked on one side of the sidewalk and I walked on the other\n 5027\tside. It wasn't too gorgeous, but it was better than having her walk about a mile away\n 5028\tfrom me, like before. We went up and watched the bears, on that little hill, for a while,\n\n\n 5029\tbut there wasn't much to watch. Only one of the bears was out, the polar bear. The other\n 5030\tone, the brown one, was in his goddam cave and wouldn't come out. All you could see\n 5031\twas his rear end. There was a little kid standing next to me, with a cowboy hat on\n 5032\tpractically over his ears, and he kept telling his father, \"Make him come out, Daddy.\n 5033\tMake him come out.\" I looked at old Phoebe, but she wouldn't laugh. You know kids\n 5034\twhen they're sore at you. They won't laugh or anything.\n 5035\tAfter we left the bears, we left the zoo and crossed over this little street in the\n 5036\tpark, and then we went through one of those little tunnels that always smell from\n 5037\tsomebody's taking a leak. It was on the way to the carrousel. Old Phoebe still wouldn't\n 5038\ttalk to me or anything, but she was sort of walking next to me now. I took a hold of the\n 5039\tbelt at the back of her coat, just for the hell of it, but she wouldn't let me. She said, \"Keep\n 5040\tyour hands to yourself, if you don't mind.\" She was still sore at me. But not as sore as she\n 5041\twas before. Anyway, we kept getting closer and closer to the carrousel and you could\n 5042\tstart to hear that nutty music it always plays. It was playing \"Oh, Marie!\" It played that\n 5043\tsame song about fifty years ago when I was a little kid. That's one nice thing about\n 5044\tcarrousels, they always play the same songs.\n 5045\t\"I thought the carrousel was closed in the wintertime,\" old Phoebe said. It was the\n 5046\tfirst time she practically said anything. She probably forgot she was supposed to be sore\n 5047\tat me.\n 5048\t\"Maybe because it's around Christmas,\" I said.\n 5049\tShe didn't say anything when I said that. She probably remembered she was\n 5050\tsupposed to be sore at me.\n 5051\t\"Do you want to go for a ride on it?\" I said. I knew she probably did. When she\n 5052\twas a tiny little kid, and Allie and D.B. and I used to go to the park with her, she was\n 5053\tmad about the carrousel. You couldn't get her off the goddam thing.\n 5054\t\"I'm too big.\" she said. I thought she wasn't going to answer me, but she did.\n 5055\t\"No, you're not. Go on. I'll wait for ya. Go on,\" I said. We were right there then.\n 5056\tThere were a few kids riding on it, mostly very little kids, and a few parents were waiting\n 5057\taround outside, sitting on the benches and all. What I did was, I went up to the window\n 5058\twhere they sell the tickets and bought old Phoebe a ticket. Then I gave it to her. She was\n 5059\tstanding right next to me. \"Here,\" I said. \"Wait a second--take the rest of your dough,\n 5060\ttoo.\" I started giving her the rest of the dough she'd lent me.\n 5061\t\"You keep it. Keep it for me,\" she said. Then she said right afterward--\"Please.\"\n 5062\tThat's depressing, when somebody says \"please\" to you. I mean if it's Phoebe or\n 5063\tsomebody. That depressed the hell out of me. But I put the dough back in my pocket.\n 5064\t\"Aren't you gonna ride, too?\" she asked me. She was looking at me sort of funny.\n 5065\tYou could tell she wasn't too sore at me any more.\n 5066\t\"Maybe I will the next time. I'll watch ya,\" I said. \"Got your ticket?\"\n 5067\t\"Yes.\"\n 5068\t\"Go ahead, then--I'll be on this bench right over here. I'll watch ya.\" I went over\n 5069\tand sat down on this bench, and she went and got on the carrousel. She walked all around\n 5070\tit. I mean she walked once all the way around it. Then she sat down on this big, brown,\n 5071\tbeat-up-looking old horse. Then the carrousel started, and I watched her go around and\n 5072\taround. There were only about five or six other kids on the ride, and the song the\n 5073\tcarrousel was playing was \"Smoke Gets in Your Eyes.\" It was playing it very jazzy and\n 5074\tfunny. All the kids kept trying to grab for the gold ring, and so was old Phoebe, and I was\n\n\n 5075\tsort of afraid she'd fall off the goddam horse, but I didn't say anything or do anything.\n 5076\tThe thing with kids is, if they want to grab the gold ring, you have to let them do it, and\n 5077\tnot say anything. If they fall off they fall off, but it's bad if you say anything to them.\n 5078\tWhen the ride was over she got off her horse and came over to me. \"You ride\n 5079\tonce, too, this time,\" she said.\n 5080\t\"No, I'll just watch ya. I think I'll just watch,\" I said. I gave her some more of her\n 5081\tdough. \"Here. Get some more tickets.\"\n 5082\tShe took the dough off me. \"I'm not mad at you any more,\" she said.\n 5083\t\"I know. Hurry up--the thing's gonna start again.\"\n 5084\tThen all of a sudden she gave me a kiss. Then she held her hand out, and said,\n 5085\t\"It's raining. It's starting to rain.\"\n 5086\t\"I know.\"\n 5087\tThen what she did--it damn near killed me--she reached in my coat pocket and\n 5088\ttook out my red hunting hat and put it on my head.\n 5089\t\"Don't you want it?\" I said.\n 5090\t\"You can wear it a while.\"\n 5091\t\"Okay. Hurry up, though, now. You're gonna miss your ride. You won't get your\n 5092\town horse or anything.\"\n 5093\tShe kept hanging around, though.\n 5094\t\"Did you mean it what you said? You really aren't going away anywhere? Are\n 5095\tyou really going home afterwards?\" she asked me.\n 5096\t\"Yeah,\" I said. I meant it, too. I wasn't lying to her. I really did go home\n 5097\tafterwards. \"Hurry up, now,\" I said. \"The thing's starting.\"\n 5098\tShe ran and bought her ticket and got back on the goddam carrousel just in time.\n 5099\tThen she walked all the way around it till she got her own horse back. Then she got on it.\n 5100\tShe waved to me and I waved back.\n 5101\tBoy, it began to rain like a bastard. In buckets, I swear to God. All the parents and\n 5102\tmothers and everybody went over and stood right under the roof of the carrousel, so they\n 5103\twouldn't get soaked to the skin or anything, but I stuck around on the bench for quite a\n 5104\twhile. I got pretty soaking wet, especially my neck and my pants. My hunting hat really\n 5105\tgave me quite a lot of protection, in a way; but I got soaked anyway. I didn't care, though.\n 5106\tI felt so damn happy all of sudden, the way old Phoebe kept going around and around. I\n 5107\twas damn near bawling, I felt so damn happy, if you want to know the truth. I don't know\n 5108\twhy. It was just that she looked so damn nice, the way she kept going around and around,\n 5109\tin her blue coat and all. God, I wish you could've been there.\n 5110\t26\n 5111\tThat's all I'm going to tell about. I could probably tell you what I did after I went\n 5112\thome, and how I got sick and all, and what school I'm supposed to go to next fall, after I\n 5113\tget out of here, but I don't feel like it. I really don't. That stuff doesn't interest me too\n 5114\tmuch right now.\n 5115\tA lot of people, especially this one psychoanalyst guy they have here, keeps\n 5116\tasking me if I'm going apply myself when I go back to school next September. It's such a\n 5117\tstupid question, in my opinion. I mean how do you know what you're going to do till you\n\n\n 5118\tdo it? The answer is, you don't. I think I am, but how do I know? I swear it's a stupid\n 5119\tquestion.\n 5120\tD.B. isn't as bad as the rest of them, but he keeps asking me a lot of questions,\n 5121\ttoo. He drove over last Saturday with this English babe that's in this new picture he's\n 5122\twriting. She was pretty affected, but very good-looking. Anyway, one time when she\n 5123\twent to the ladies' room way the hell down in the other wing D.B. asked me what I\n 5124\tthought about all this stuff I just finished telling you about. I didn't know what the hell to\n 5125\tsay. If you want to know the truth, I don't know what I think about it. I'm sorry I told so\n 5126\tmany people about it. About all I know is, I sort of miss everybody I told about. Even old\n 5127\tStradlater and Ackley, for instance. I think I even miss that goddam Maurice. It's funny.\n 5128\tDon't ever tell anybody anything. 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