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- "You did get kicked out! You did!" old Phoebe said. Then she hit me on the leg
with her fist. She gets very fisty when she feels like it. "You did! Oh, Holden!" She had
her hand on her mouth and all. She gets very emotional, I swear to God.
"Who said I got kicked out? Nobody said I--"
"You did. You did," she said. Then she smacked me again with her fist. If you
don't think that hurts, you're crazy. "Daddy'll kill you!" she said. Then she flopped on her
stomach on the bed and put the goddam pillow over her head. She does that quite
frequently. She's a true madman sometimes.
"Cut it out, now," I said. "Nobody's gonna kill me. Nobody's gonna even--C'mon,
Phoeb, take that goddam thing off your head. Nobody's gonna kill me."
She wouldn't take it off, though. You can't make her do something if she doesn't
want to. All she kept saying was, "Daddy s gonna kill you." You could hardly understand
her with that goddam pillow over her head.
"Nobody's gonna kill me. Use your head. In the first place, I'm going away. What
I may do, I may get a job on a ranch or something for a while. I know this guy whose
grandfather's got a ranch in Colorado. I may get a job out there," I said. "I'll keep in touch
with you and all when I'm gone, if I go. C'mon. Take that off your head. C'mon, hey,
Phoeb. Please. Please, willya?'
She wouldn t take it off, though I tried pulling it off, but she's strong as hell. You
get tired fighting with her. Boy, if she wants to keep a pillow over her head, she keeps it.
"Phoebe, please. C'mon outa there," I kept saying. "C'mon, hey . . . Hey, Weatherfield.
C'mon out."
She wouldn't come out, though. You can't even reason with her sometimes.
Finally, I got up and went out in the living room and got some cigarettes out of the box
on the table and stuck some in my pocket. I was all out.
22
When I came back, she had the pillow off her head all right--I knew she would--
but she still wouldn't look at me, even though she was laying on her back and all. When I
came around the side of the bed and sat down again, she turned her crazy face the other
way. She was ostracizing the hell out of me. Just like the fencing team at Pencey when I
left all the goddam foils on the subway.
"How's old Hazel Weatherfield?" I said. "You write any new stories about her? I
got that one you sent me right in my suitcase. It's down at the station. It's very good."
"Daddy'll kill you."
Boy, she really gets something on her mind when she gets something on her mind.
"No, he won't. The worst he'll do, he'll give me hell again, and then he'll send me
to that goddam military school. That's all he'll do to me. And in the first place, I won't
even be around. I'll be away. I'll be--I'll probably be in Colorado on this ranch."
"Don't make me laugh. You can't even ride a horse."
"Who can't? Sure I can. Certainly I can. They can teach you in about two
minutes," I said. "Stop picking at that." She was picking at that adhesive tape on her arm.
"Who gave you that haircut?" I asked her. I just noticed what a stupid haircut somebody
gave her. It was way too short.
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