Catcher in the Rye

Author's note: This is an extended ending to J.D. Salinger's The Catcher in the Rye. It is written from the perspective of main character, Holden Caulfield.

It was pretty late, but I wasn't tired. I don't get tired easy. Ya see, I like staying up late. It's more interesting, but that night wasn't interesting at all. It was goddam boring. That new school was all real boring. We had to be in our rooms by 9 PM. And don't even get me started on my goddam roommate. His name was Wilcox. Who could live with the last name Wilcox? I guess he managed. He was the biggest phony you'd ever see, but he was a good football player. I mean real good, but he was too good. He'd always show off, brag, and that'd always put you off a guy. He was like goddam Stradlater. It drove me crazy. His stuff was always a real mess too, but if had someone over he'd just shove it under his bed so they didn't know.

I really felt like talking to someone, but there wasn't anybody to talk to. I really needed to just chew the fat with somebody for a half hour or so. I could've given ol' Jane a buzz. She'd be up, but she wouldn't want to talk to me. Then I thought of Pheobe, we could chew the fat for hours, but I didn't want my parents to answer the phone, so I just didn't call anybody.

I wanted to just go for a walk and get some fresh air, but those goddam teachers in the hall would just send me back to my goddam room. I decided to sneak out the window. It was slow going at first, but I got out eventually.

By now it was like 11, but I didn't care. The snow was a foot deep on the grass, and the pond was frozen over. I still wonder where those ducks go. It was kinda weird, tonight, I didn't even care if I never got back to school. I didn't care about life. All I cared about was Phoebe, but I didn't have enough dough to get home.

So I went back to my room to find Wilcox digging through my suitcase. That sonuvabitch! I wasn't thinking when I got back in. I punched him straight across the face. I didn't care any more. If I got the axe again oh well. I move to California and build myself a cabin in the woods where no phonies were allowed. The Wilcox got up thinking he could beat me up just because he's the captain of the football team. What he didn't know was I didn't care. He could do anything and I'd keep fighting until I couldn't move.

That Wilcox was pummeling me, but like I said, I couldn't've cared less. I'm pretty sure he was surprised at how well I was fighting back. I was doing pretty good, but my broken hand was killing me. It got to the point where we were making so much noise that the goddam teachers in the hall and to come in the break the fight apart. It killed me. It really did. To see these teachers come in and break up a fight and pretend everything would be normal. Who were they kidding? I couldn't stand those phonies anymore, so I packed up, and left. Just like that I left the goddam school.

I didn't have any dough on me because I spent it all over Christmas break, so I just picked a direction and walked until I couldn't. Then I'd pick a new way. It was about 1 AM and I was starting to tire out. It'd been a long day. I picked the best looking thing that I could see. It ended up being a park bench with about six inches of snow on it. And it was stone cold, and rock hard. I didn't care, I just laid down and tried to sleep, but it was tough because it was so goddam cold.

You see all that I remember after that was waking up really warm and everything. It was like I was burning, so I did what made sense at the time, I burned in peace. Then when I cooled down I opened my eyes and I was here. By the way, where exactly is 'here'?

A voice rang out, "'Here', is whatever you want it to be."