- cid
- bafkreigw65mmezlorpg65prfbafzmu7czw3y3j2kagihscnqrycelajlxu
- content_type
- image/jpeg
- filename
- Rye_page_0093.jpg
- key
- pdf-page-1768924405822-rg4bzh4ig2
- page_number
- 93
- pdf_type
- born_digital
- size
- 263822
- text
- back and congratulating you in court when the goddam trial was over, the reporters and
everybody, the way it is in the dirty movies? How would you know you weren't being a
phony? The trouble is, you wouldn't."
I'm not too sure old Phoebe knew what the hell I was talking about. I mean she's
only a little child and all. But she was listening, at least. If somebody at least listens, it's
not too bad.
"Daddy's going to kill you. He's going to kill you," she said.
I wasn't listening, though. I was thinking about something else--something crazy.
"You know what I'd like to be?" I said. "You know what I'd like to be? I mean if I had my
goddam choice?"
"What? Stop swearing."
"You know that song 'If a body catch a body comin' through the rye'? I'd like--"
"It's 'If a body meet a body coming through the rye'!" old Phoebe said. "It's a
poem. By Robert Burns."
"I know it's a poem by Robert Burns."
She was right, though. It is "If a body meet a body coming through the rye." I
didn't know it then, though.
"I thought it was 'If a body catch a body,'" I said. "Anyway, I keep picturing all
these little kids playing some game in this big field of rye and all. Thousands of little
kids, and nobody's around--nobody big, I mean--except me. And I'm standing on the edge
of some crazy cliff. What I have to do, I have to catch everybody if they start to go over
the cliff--I mean if they're running and they don't look where they're going I have to come
out from somewhere and catch them. That's all I'd do all day. I'd just be the catcher in the
rye and all. I know it's crazy, but that's the only thing I'd really like to be. I know it's
crazy."
Old Phoebe didn't say anything for a long time. Then, when she said something,
all she said was, "Daddy's going to kill you."
"I don't give a damn if he does," I said. I got up from the bed then, because what I
wanted to do, I wanted to phone up this guy that was my English teacher at Elkton Hills,
Mr. Antolini. He lived in New York now. He quit Elkton Hills. He took this job teaching
English at N.Y.U. "I have to make a phone call," I told Phoebe. "I'll be right back. Don't
go to sleep." I didn't want her to go to sleep while I was in the living room. I knew she
wouldn't but I said it anyway, just to make sure.
While I was walking toward the door, old Phoebe said, "Holden!" and I turned
around.
She was sitting way up in bed. She looked so pretty. "I'm taking belching lessons
from this girl, Phyllis Margulies," she said. "Listen."
I listened, and I heard something, but it wasn't much. "Good," I said. Then I went
out in the living room and called up this teacher I had, Mr. Antolini.
23
I made it very snappy on the phone because I was afraid my parents would barge
in on me right in the middle of it. They didn't, though. Mr. Antolini was very nice. He
said I could come right over if I wanted to. I think I probably woke he and his wife up,
- text_extracted_at
- 2026-01-20T15:53:25.822Z
- text_extracted_by
- pdf-processor
- text_has_content
- true
- text_source
- born_digital
- uploaded
- true