Holdens Sonnet

Allie wrote poems on his baseball mitt
I've read them all, every little bit
I will never forget the day he died
I will never forget how much I cried

Phoebee is my sister, I love her lots
I think of her when i drink my scotch
You would really love her, she is topnotch
When I think of her my stomachs in knots

When we were young Jane and I were best friends
We always played checkers on the weekends
She always kept her kings on the back row
But her step dad would come out and bellow

Thinking of them, it makes me depressed
I feel so lonely my life is a mess!

it was to late to get a cab so i headed for the train station luckly i only had to wait 10 minutes for the train. i just sat there minding my own buissness when we got to trenton and this women came down and sat right next to me. she was about 45 i guessed. but very good looking. women kill me. they really do. she noticed my pencey sticker on ma bag and she asked me if i knew her son. ernest morrow. i did. he was biggest basterd in the whole of pencey prep history. whenever he was walking down the corridor and he had just had a shower whole slap your ass with his sogy wet towl. thats the kinda guy he was. she asled me my name and i told her it was rudolf schmidt. i dont know why i did it. i just felt like shooting the crap for bit thats all. then she started talking about her little ernest. then i really started shooting the crap. saying what a modest down to earth guy ernest was. but then she became very nice and caring and started to regret ever giving her a faulse name. then she realised that christmas break didnt start unitil wednesday. so she asked me why was i leaving early and that she hoped there wasnt an illness in the family. and you could tell she really meant. you really could. i told her everything was fine and that it was me. i just had to have an operation because i had this tiny tumor on the brain. she gasped in horror like she was really concernd. and she really was, you could tell. after that we didnt talk, though we didnt talk very much.

i went into Ackleys room to see what he was up to and all. he didn't to noticed what happened at first, it was dark then he sat up and switched the light on.

"what the hell happened to you?!" he meant the because of the blood and all.

"nothing i just got into a bit of a fight with Stradlater." he started to get excited then asking why and how. so i started shooting the crap. i told him that it was because of him and i was defending his goddamn honor and all. that really got him going. in end i asked if i could stay in his room. while his roommate was away for the weekend. he said it wasn't up to him and that he couldn't just let anybody stay in his bed. so just made him feel guilty and all saying after the way i just stuck up for him. that soon changed his mind. so i got into bed and just as was about to fall asleep he started snoring like hell. so i got up and stated walking down the stairs. i was going to go pay Mal Bossard a visit. but then i changed my mind. i knew exactly what i was going to do, i was going to get the hell out of here. leave pencey a few days early. i was going to go for a short vacation in new york and get a room in a really inexpensive hotel. so that's what i decided to do. i went back to the room to pack a few things and all. old stradlater didn't even wake when i came back. it made me kinda sad packing because i had to pack the ice skates my mother had given me. they were the wrong kind of skates i wanted racing and these were hockey. but it made me sad anyway. it always does when someone gives me present. before i was ready to leave i counted my dough, i was pretty loaded because my grandmother had just sent me wad. she'd quite lavish and doest have all her marbles so she just sends me birthday money about four times a year. then i was stood ready to go with my bags and all and i took one last look down the corridor. i was sort of crying. i don't know why. i put on my red hunting hat and turned the peck to the back the way i liked it, then i shouted at the top of my goddamn voice "sleep tight, ya morons!" i bet i woke up every bastard on the floor, then i got the hell out.

Stradlater got back from his date with Jane. then he asked me where his goddamn composition i told him it was on his bed. then he turned round and said to me "what the hell is this?!"

"your goddamn composition" i said as cold as hell.

"i asked you to write it about a house or a room not a goddamn baseball mitt!"

that really ticked me off. he was so ungrateful. he was just stood there with his toothbrush in his mouth and this next bit i don't remember, i just jumped up ad with all my might i went to sock him as hard as i could right smack in the toothbrush so it would cut his throat open. only i missed, i didn't connect. all i did was hit him on the side of his head. it promberly hurt him a little but not as much as wanted. anyway the next thing i knew i was on the floor and he was sitting on my chest his face all red and all. that is he had his goddamn knees on my chest. he had hold of my wrists to so i couldn't sock him. i d have killed him.

"what the hells the matter with you?"he kept saying.

"get your lousy knees off my chest!"i was almost bawling i really was."go on, get offa me ya crumby basted." he wouldn't do it though. he kept holding onto my wrists and i kept calling him a sunvabitch and all for around 10 hours. i could Hardley remember what i said to him at all. just that he thought he could give the time to anyone and that he was moron. he hated it when you called him a moron.

"just shut up now Holden!just shut up up!" he said with his big red face and all.

"you don't even know if her first name is Jane or jean you goddamn moron!"

"now, shut up, Holden, am warning ya. shut up before i slam you one!"

"get ya stinkin moron knees of my chest!"

"if get off will ya shut up?!"

"yes!" i didn't shut up though i carried on telling him what a stupid sunvabitch of a moron he was. and that got him really mad. he told he wasn't going to warn me again so i carried on didn't get to finish my goddamn sentence, then he let one go at me. before i knew it i was on the floor again. i opened my eyes to find Stradlater stood over me. he just told me that i was asking for it and he warned me to shut up. he told me to go and wash my face and i told him to go and wash his own goddamn face he was a childish thing to do. but i was really mad. i figured that old Ackley would have heard every thing so i got up and went to his room. never went in his room usually because it always had a funny stink in it because he was so crumby in personal habits.

Dinner was always the same on Saturday night at pencey. steak. it was supposed to be a big deal because they gave you steak. but I'll bet the only reason they did that is because most of the guys parents came up on Sundays and when they asked their precious little boy what they had for dinner they would say 'steak'. it was nice though when we got out of the dinning room, there was about three inches of snow on the ground and it was still falling. it looked as pretty as hell. me, Ackley and a guy called Mal Brossard decided to go for a burger and see a lousy movie. but it took Ackley about 5 hours for him to get ready. while i was waiting i opened the window and packed a snowball with my hands. i didn't throw it at anything though. i started to throw it at a park across the street. but i changed my mind. the car looked so nice and white. then i started to throw it at a hydrant but that looked nice and white too. finally i didn't throw it at anything i just shut the window and packed the snowball even harder. i still had it with me when i went to get on the bus with Ackley and Brossard. the bus driver told me to throw it before i got on i said i wasn't going to chuck it at anyone, but he didn't believe me. no one ever believes you. we got back to pencey about 9 and i told Ackley that i had to write a composition for Stradlater and he had to clear the hell out. when he finally left i put on my red hunting hat, pajamas and bathrobe and started writing the composition. the thing is i couldn't think of a room or house to describe so i deiced to write about my brother allies baseball mitt. it was as descriptive as hell. it really was. what was so descriptive about it was that in green ink he had written poems all over it so he had something to read on the Field while no one was in bat. he's dead now. he got leukemia and died. you've had liked him. he was two years younger than me and about fifty times more intelligent. he wasn't just the most intelligent in our family he was the nicest to. he never got mad at anybody, which is strange because people with red hair are supposed to be frustrated easily but Allie never did. i was only thirteen, and they were going to have me psychoanalyzed and all because i broke all the windows in the garage with my fist for the hell of it. i don't blame them. i really don't.