《THE CATCHER IN THE RYE全集《麦田里的守望者》英文版》第2/77页

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foils and equipment and stuff on the goddam subway. It wasn't all my fault. I had to keep
getting up to look at this map, so we'd know where to get off. So we got back to Pencey
around two-thirty instead of around dinnertime. The whole team ostracized me the whole
way back on the train. It was pretty funny, in a way.
The other reason I wasn't down at the game was because I was on my way to say
good-by to old Spencer, my history teacher. He had the grippe, and I figured I probably
wouldn't see him again till Christmas vacation started. He wrote me this note saying he
wanted to see me before I went home. He knew I wasn't coming back to Pencey.
I forgot to tell you about that. They kicked me out. I wasn't supposed to come
back after Christmas vacation on account of I was flunking four subjects and not applying
myself and all. They gave me frequent warning to start applying myself--especially
around midterms, when my parents came up for a conference with old Thurmer--but I
didn't do it. So I got the ax. They give guys the ax quite frequently at Pencey. It has a
very good academic rating, Pencey. It really does.
Anyway, it was December and all, and it was cold as a witch's teat, especially on
top of that stupid hill. I only had on my reversible and no gloves or anything. The week
before that, somebody'd stolen my camel's-hair coat right out of my room, with my fur-
lined gloves right in the pocket and all. Pencey was full of crooks. Quite a few guys came
from these very wealthy families, but it was full of crooks anyway. The more expensive a
school is, the more crooks it has--I'm not kidding. Anyway, I kept standing next to that
crazy cannon, looking down at the game and freezing my ass off. Only, I wasn't watching
the game too much. What I was really hanging around for, I was trying to feel some kind
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of a good-by. I mean I've left schools and places I didn't even know I was leaving them. I
hate that. I don't care if it's a sad good-by or a bad goodby, but when I leave a place I like
to know I'm leaving it. If you don't, you feel even worse.
I was lucky. All of a sudden I thought of something that helped make me know I
was getting the hell out. I suddenly remembered this time, in around October, that I and
Robert Tichener and Paul Campbell were chucking a football around, in front of the
academic building. They were nice guys, especially Tichener. It was just before dinner
and it was getting pretty dark out, but we kept chucking the ball around anyway. It kept
getting darker and darker, and we could hardly see the ball any more, but we didn't want
to stop doing what we were doing. Finally we had to. This teacher that taught biology,
Mr. Zambesi, stuck his head out of this window in the academic building and told us to
go back to the dorm and get ready for dinner. If I get a chance to remember that kind of
stuff, I can get a good-by when I need one--at least, most of the time I can. As soon as I
got it, I turned around and started running down the other side of the hill, toward old
Spencer's house. He didn't live on the campus. He lived on Anthony Wayne Avenue.
I ran all the way to the main gate, and then I waited a second till I got my breath. I
have no wind, if you want to know the truth. I'm quite a heavy smoker, for one thing--that
is, I used to be. They made me cut it out. Another thing, I grew six and a half inches last
year. That's also how I practically got t.b. and came out here for all these goddam
checkups and stuff. I'm pretty healthy, though.
Anyway, as soon as I got my breath back I ran across Route 204. It was icy as hell
and I damn near fell down. I don't even know what I was running for--I guess I just felt
like it. After I got across the road, I felt like I was sort of disappearing. It was that kind of
a crazy afternoon, terrifically cold, and no sun out or anything, and you felt like you were
disappearing every time you crossed a road.
Boy, I rang that doorbell fast when I got to old Spencer's house. I was really
frozen. My ears were hurting and I could hardly move my fingers at all. "C'mon, c'mon,"
I said right out loud, almost, "somebody open the door." Finally old Mrs. Spencer
opened. it. They didn't have a maid or anything, and they always opened the door
themselves. They didn't have too much dough.
"Holden!" Mrs. Spencer said. "How lovely to see you! Come in, dear! Are you
frozen to death?" I think she was glad to see me. She liked me. At least, I think she did.
Boy, did I get in that house fast. "How are you, Mrs. Spencer?" I said. "How's Mr.
Spencer?"
"Let me take your coat, dear," she said. She didn't hear me ask her how Mr.
Spencer was. She was sort of deaf.
She hung up my coat in the hall closet, and I sort of brushed my hair back with
my hand. I wear a crew cut quite frequently and I never have to comb it much. "How've
you been, Mrs. Spencer?" I said again, only louder, so she'd hear me.
"I've been just fine, Holden." She closed the closet door. "How have you been?"
The way she asked me, I knew right away old Spencer'd told her I'd been kicked out.
"Fine," I said. "How's Mr. Spencer? He over his grippe yet?"
"Over it! Holden, he's behaving like a perfect--I don't know what. . . He's in his
room, dear. Go right in."

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