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# Chapter 6 of *The Catcher in the Rye* ## Overview This entity is Chapter 6 of the novel *The Catcher in the Rye* by J.D. Salinger, presented as a structured digital text extract. It corresponds to pages 23–25 of the original publication and consists of 163 lines of narrative text (lines 983–1145 in the source document). The chapter is part of a larger digital collection titled [More Classics](arke:01KFXT0KM64XT6K8W52TDEE0YS), which includes canonical Western literary works. The text has been segmented into four smaller [chunks](arke:01KG076CM6SP3BB2FCMPTQ9GMT) for processing and analysis. ## Context The chapter is narrated by Holden Caulfield, a teenage student at Pencey Prep, a fictional boarding school. It follows immediately after Holden writes a composition for his roommate, Stradlater, who has just returned from a date with Jane Gallagher—a girl Holden deeply cares about. The narrative captures Holden’s escalating anxiety and emotional instability as he interrogates Stradlater about the date, revealing his protective feelings toward Jane and his disdain for Stradlater’s superficial, entitled behavior. The tension culminates in a physical altercation between the two characters. ## Contents The chapter details Holden’s obsessive worry as he awaits Stradlater’s return, his internal struggle with anxiety (including physical manifestations like an urge to use the bathroom), and his growing anger over Stradlater’s silence about Jane. When Stradlater criticizes the composition Holden wrote—a descriptive essay about his brother Allie’s baseball glove—the conflict intensifies. Holden tears up the paper in defiance. The confrontation escalates when Holden accuses Stradlater of sexual impropriety with Jane, leading to a fight in which Stradlater overpowers him. After being punched and left bleeding on the floor, Holden examines his injured face in the mirror, reflecting on his lack of toughness despite the bloodied appearance. The chapter ends with Holden visiting the room of his other dorm neighbor, Ackley, hinting at his isolation and need for human contact despite social discomfort.

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2026-01-27T17:21:32.163Z

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Chapter 6 of *The Catcher in the Rye*

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2026-01-27T17:12:16.496Z

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940 6 941 Some things are hard to remember. I'm thinking now of when Stradlater got back 942 from his date with Jane. I mean I can't remember exactly what I was doing when I heard 943 his goddam stupid footsteps coming down the corridor. I probably was still looking out 944 the window, but I swear I can't remember. I was so damn worried, that's why. When I 945 really worry about something, I don't just fool around. I even have to go to the bathroom 946 when I worry about something. Only, I don't go. I'm too worried to go. I don't want to 947 interrupt my worrying to go. If you knew Stradlater, you'd have been worried, too. I'd 948 double-dated with that bastard a couple of times, and I know what I'm talking about. He 949 was unscrupulous. He really was. 950 Anyway, the corridor was all linoleum and all, and you could hear his goddam 951 footsteps coming right towards the room. I don't even remember where I was sitting when 952 he came in--at the window, or in my chair or his. I swear I can't remember. 953 He came in griping about how cold it was out. Then he said, "Where the hell is 954 everybody? It's like a goddam morgue around here." I didn't even bother to answer him. 955 If he was so goddam stupid not to realize it was Saturday night and everybody was out or 956 asleep or home for the week end, I wasn't going to break my neck telling him. He started 957 getting undressed. He didn't say one goddam word about Jane. Not one. Neither did I. I 958 just watched him. All he did was thank me for letting him wear my hound's-tooth. He 959 hung it up on a hanger and put it in the closet. 960 Then when he was taking off his tie, he asked me if I'd written his goddam 961 composition for him. I told him it was over on his goddam bed. He walked over and read 962 it while he was unbuttoning his shirt. He stood there, reading it, and sort of stroking his 963 bare chest and stomach, with this very stupid expression on his face. He was always 964 stroking his stomach or his chest. He was mad about himself. 965 All of a sudden, he said, "For Chrissake, Holden. This is about a goddam baseball 966 glove." 967 "So what?" I said. Cold as hell. 968 "Wuddaya mean so what? I told ya it had to be about a goddam room or a house 969 or something." 970 "You said it had to be descriptive. What the hell's the difference if it's about a 971 baseball glove?" 972 "God damn it." He was sore as hell. He was really furious. "You always do 973 everything backasswards." He looked at me. "No wonder you're flunking the hell out of 974 here," he said. "You don't do one damn thing the way you're supposed to. I mean it. Not 975 one damn thing." 976 "All right, give it back to me, then," I said. I went over and pulled it right out of 977 his goddam hand. Then I tore it up. 978 "What the hellja do that for?" he said. <!-- [Page 23](arke:01KFYTAC7ZJQ26RSGMXXCXRHTF) --> 979 I didn't even answer him. I just threw the pieces in the wastebasket. Then I lay 980 down on my bed, and we both didn't say anything for a long time. He got all undressed, 981 down to his shorts, and I lay on my bed and lit a cigarette. You weren't allowed to smoke 982 in the dorm, but you could do it late at night when everybody was asleep or out and 983 nobody could smell the smoke. Besides, I did it to annoy Stradlater. It drove him crazy 984 when you broke any rules. He never smoked in the dorm. It was only me. 985 He still didn't say one single solitary word about Jane. So finally I said, "You're 986 back pretty goddam late if she only signed out for nine-thirty. Did you make her be late 987 signing in?" 988 He was sitting on the edge of his bed, cutting his goddam toenails, when I asked 989 him that. "Coupla minutes," he said. "Who the hell signs out for nine-thirty on a Saturday 990 night?" God, how I hated him. 991 "Did you go to New York?" I said. 992 "Ya crazy? How the hell could we go to New York if she only signed out for 993 nine-thirty?" 994 "That's tough." 995 He looked up at me. "Listen," he said, "if you're gonna smoke in the room, how 996 'bout going down to the can and do it? You may be getting the hell out of here, but I have 997 to stick around long enough to graduate." 998 I ignored him. I really did. I went right on smoking like a madman. All I did was 999 sort of turn over on my side and watched him cut his damn toenails. What a school. You 1000 were always watching somebody cut their damn toenails or squeeze their pimples or 1001 something. 1002 "Did you give her my regards?" I asked him. 1003 "Yeah." 1004 The hell he did, the bastard. 1005 "What'd she say?" I said. "Did you ask her if she still keeps all her kings in the 1006 back row?" 1007 "No, I didn't ask her. What the hell ya think we did all night--play checkers, for 1008 Chrissake?" 1009 I didn't even answer him. God, how I hated him. 1010 "If you didn't go to New York, where'd ya go with her?" I asked him, after a little 1011 while. I could hardly keep my voice from shaking all over the place. Boy, was I getting 1012 nervous. I just had a feeling something had gone funny. 1013 He was finished cutting his damn toenails. So he got up from the bed, in just his 1014 damn shorts and all, and started getting very damn playful. He came over to my bed and 1015 started leaning over me and taking these playful as hell socks at my shoulder. "Cut it 1016 out," I said. "Where'd you go with her if you didn't go to New York?" 1017 "Nowhere. We just sat in the goddam car." He gave me another one of those 1018 playtul stupid little socks on the shoulder. 1019 "Cut it out," I said. "Whose car?" 1020 "Ed Banky's." 1021 Ed Banky was the basketball coach at Pencey. Old Stradlater was one of his pets, 1022 because he was the center on the team, and Ed Banky always let him borrow his car when 1023 he wanted it. It wasn't allowed for students to borrow faculty guys' cars, but all the <!-- [Page 24](arke:01KFYTAC9AEJ1H5CTHT0NSEP85) --> 1024 athletic bastards stuck together. In every school I've gone to, all the athletic bastards stick 1025 together. 1026 Stradlater kept taking these shadow punches down at my shoulder. He had his 1027 toothbrush in his hand, and he put it in his mouth. "What'd you do?" I said. "Give her the 1028 time in Ed Banky's goddam car?" My voice was shaking something awful. 1029 "What a thing to say. Want me to wash your mouth out with soap?" 1030 "Did you?" 1031 "That's a professional secret, buddy." 1032 This next part I don't remember so hot. All I know is I got up from the bed, like I 1033 was going down to the can or something, and then I tried to sock him, with all my might, 1034 right smack in the toothbrush, so it would split his goddam throat open. Only, I missed. I 1035 didn't connect. All I did was sort of get him on the side of the head or something. It 1036 probably hurt him a little bit, but not as much as I wanted. It probably would've hurt him 1037 a lot, but I did it with my right hand, and I can't make a good fist with that hand. On 1038 account of that injury I told you about. 1039 Anyway, the next thing I knew, I was on the goddam floor and he was sitting on 1040 my chest, with his face all red. That is, he had his goddam knees on my chest, and he 1041 weighed about a ton. He had hold of my wrists, too, so I couldn't take another sock at 1042 him. I'd've killed him. 1043 "What the hell's the matter with you?" he kept saying, and his stupid race kept 1044 getting redder and redder. 1045 "Get your lousy knees off my chest," I told him. I was almost bawling. I really 1046 was. "Go on, get off a me, ya crumby bastard." 1047 He wouldn't do it, though. He kept holding onto my wrists and I kept calling him 1048 a sonuvabitch and all, for around ten hours. I can hardly even remember what all I said to 1049 him. I told him he thought he could give the time to anybody he felt like. I told him he 1050 didn't even care if a girl kept all her kings in the back row or not, and the reason he didn't 1051 care was because he was a goddam stupid moron. He hated it when you called a moron. 1052 All morons hate it when you call them a moron. 1053 "Shut up, now, Holden," he said with his big stupid red face. "just shut up, now." 1054 "You don't even know if her first name is Jane or Jean, ya goddam moron!" 1055 "Now, shut up, Holden, God damn it--I'm warning ya," he said--I really had him 1056 going. "If you don't shut up, I'm gonna slam ya one." 1057 "Get your dirty stinking moron knees off my chest." 1058 "If I letcha up, will you keep your mouth shut?" 1059 I didn't even answer him. 1060 He said it over again. "Holden. If I letcha up, willya keep your mouth shut?" 1061 "Yes." 1062 He got up off me, and I got up, too. My chest hurt like hell from his dirty knees. 1063 "You're a dirty stupid sonuvabitch of a moron," I told him. 1064 That got him really mad. He shook his big stupid finger in my face. "Holden, God 1065 damn it, I'm warning you, now. For the last time. If you don't keep your yap shut, I'm 1066 gonna--" 1067 "Why should I?" I said--I was practically yelling. "That's just the trouble with all 1068 you morons. You never want to discuss anything. That's the way you can always tell a 1069 moron. They never want to discuss anything intellig--" <!-- [Page 25](arke:01KFYTAC35W64FWTJMBCGTQ2FG) --> 1070 Then he really let one go at me, and the next thing I knew I was on the goddam 1071 floor again. I don't remember if he knocked me out or not, but I don't think so. It's pretty 1072 hard to knock a guy out, except in the goddam movies. But my nose was bleeding all 1073 over the place. When I looked up old Stradlater was standing practically right on top of 1074 me. He had his goddam toilet kit under his arm. "Why the hell don'tcha shut up when I 1075 tellya to?" he said. He sounded pretty nervous. He probably was scared he'd fractured my 1076 skull or something when I hit the floor. It's too bad I didn't. "You asked for it, God damn 1077 it," he said. Boy, did he look worried. 1078 I didn't even bother to get up. I just lay there in the floor for a while, and kept 1079 calling him a moron sonuvabitch. I was so mad, I was practically bawling. 1080 "Listen. Go wash your face," Stradlater said. "Ya hear me?" 1081 I told him to go wash his own moron face--which was a pretty childish thing to 1082 say, but I was mad as hell. I told him to stop off on the way to the can and give Mrs. 1083 Schmidt the time. Mrs. Schmidt was the janitor's wife. She was around sixty-five. 1084 I kept sitting there on the floor till I heard old Stradlater close the door and go 1085 down the corridor to the can. Then I got up. I couldn't find my goddam hunting hat 1086 anywhere. Finally I found it. It was under the bed. I put it on, and turned the old peak 1087 around to the back, the way I liked it, and then I went over and took a look at my stupid 1088 face in the mirror. You never saw such gore in your life. I had blood all over my mouth 1089 and chin and even on my pajamas and bath robe. It partly scared me and it partly 1090 fascinated me. All that blood and all sort of made me look tough. I'd only been in about 1091 two fights in my life, and I lost both of them. I'm not too tough. I'm a pacifist, if you want 1092 to know the truth. 1093 I had a feeling old Ackley'd probably heard all the racket and was awake. So I 1094 went through the shower curtains into his room, just to see what the hell he was doing. I 1095 hardly ever went over to his room. It always had a funny stink in it, because he was so 1096 crumby in his personal habits.

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