The Catcher in the Rye | Page 7

parents. I can't stand that stuff. It
drives me crazy. It makes me so depressed I go crazy. I hated that goddam Elkton Hills.
Old Spencer asked me something then, but I didn't hear him. I was thinking about
old Haas. "What, sir?" I said.
"Do you have any particular qualms about leaving Pencey?"
"Oh, I have a few qualms, all right. Sure. . . but not too many. Not yet, anyway. I
guess it hasn't really hit me yet. It takes things a while to hit me. All I'm doing right now
is thinking about going home Wednesday. I'm a moron."
"Do you feel absolutely no concern for your future, boy?"
"Oh, I feel some concern for my future, all right. Sure. Sure, I do." I thought about
it for a minute. "But not too much, I guess. Not too much, I guess."
"You will," old Spencer said. "You will, boy. You will when it's too late."
I didn't like hearing him say that. It made me sound dead or something. It was
very depressing. "I guess I will," I said.
"I'd like to put some sense in that head of yours, boy. I'm trying to help you. I'm
trying to help you, if I can."
He really was, too. You could see that. But it was just that we were too\
much on
opposite sides ot the pole, that's all. "I know you are, sir," I said. "Thanks a lot. No
kidding. I appreciate it. I really do." I got up from the bed then. Boy, I couldn't've sat
there another ten minutes to save my life. "The thing is, though, I have to get going now.
I have quite a bit of equipment at the gym I have to get to take home with me. I really
do." He looked up at me and started nodding again, with this very serious look on his
face. I felt sorry as hell for him, all of a sudden. But I just couldn't hang around there any
longer, the way we were on opposite sides of the pole, and the way he ke\
pt missing the
bed whenever he chucked something at it, and his sad old bathrobe with his chest
showing, and that grippy smell of Vicks Nose Drops all over the place. "Look, sir. Don't
worry about me," I said. "I mean it. I'll be all right. I'm just going through a phase right
now. Everybody goes through phases and all, don't they?"
"I don't know, boy. I don't know."
I hate it when somebody answers that way. "Sure. Sure, they do," I said. "I mean
it, sir. Please don't worry about me." I sort of put my hand on his shoulder. "Okay?" I
said.

"Wouldn't you like a cup of hot chocolate before you go? Mrs. Spencer would be-
-"
"I would, I really would, but the thing is, I have to get going. I have \
to go right to
the gym. Thanks, though. Thanks a lot, sir."
Then we shook hands. And all that crap. It made me feel sad as hell, though.
"I'll drop you a line, sir. Take care of your grippe, now."
"Good-by, boy."
After I shut the door and started back to the living room, he yelled something at
me, but I couldn't exactly hear him. I'm pretty sure he yelled "Good luck!" at me,
I hope to hell not. I'd never yell "Good luck!" at anybody. It sounds terrible, when
you think about it.


3

I'm the most terrific liar you ever saw in your life. It's awful. If I'm on my way to
the store to buy a magazine, even, and somebody asks me where I'm going, I'm liable to
say I'm going to the opera. It's terrible. So when I told old Spencer I had to go to the gym
and get my equipment and stuff, that was a sheer lie. I don't even keep my goddam
equipment in the gym.
Where I lived at Pencey, I lived in the Ossenburger Memorial Wing of the new
dorms. It was only for juniors and seniors. I was a junior. My roommate was a senior. It
was named after this guy Ossenburger that went to Pencey. He made a pot of dough in
the undertaking business after he got out of Pencey. What he did, he started these
undertaking parlors all over the country that you could get members of your family
buried for about five bucks apiece. You should see old Ossenburger. He probably just
shoves them in a sack and dumps