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Description
Holden's foot tapped up and down as he waited in the therapy room; the teenager was sprawled on his back over the couch, his hands on his stomach, folded quite delicately, one leg crossed over the other.  His foot bobbed.  He closed his eyes, blocking out the light, and heaved a sigh- he didn't want to be here.  He really didn't.  He wanted to go home, believe it or not.  He wanted to see Phoebe again, maybe call Jane- if he felt like it, anyways.

Over the blast of his iPod, he heard the door creak open.  "Sorry about that Holden, we had a few troubles with my last patient."

" 'scool," Holden answered, raising his head up slightly; out of politeness, he took the ear buds out and tucked the electronic device away.  The doctor smiled slightly and tilted his head before striding over to his chair in a nonchalant fashion.  The sixteen year old took this as his signal to sit up; he did so, swinging his legs over and sitting up, leaning back against the cushioning of the couch.  The doctor smiled as he adjusted his clipboard and crossed his legs, looking over his patient with interest.  He was a sweet boy, he really was.

"Are you ready to continue from our last session?"

He nodded, his over grown bangs falling into his eyes again- Holden pushed them back with a scowl.  "Where'd I leave off-?"

"You were talking about sneaking in to see your sister again, I believe," the doctor stated, looking over his notes.  "If you will Holden, it will help if you do not digress much during this session, it may help us get to the root of the issue faster."

Holden scowled to himself and shifted awkwardly before he nodded, "Yessir…"

"Very good- now, you had just gotten into the apartment…"

After I got into our flat, I sort of closed the door- really quiet and all- that door squeaked like hell.  Anyways, after I closed it, I tiptoed down the hall to Phoebe's room- her room's the smallest.  Makes sense, right?  The girl, she's small, she gets the smallest room.  Ha… Sorry.  It must've took me about three hours, I swear, to get to her room.  We have this old maid, see, and she's got hearing like a bat- she is a bat, dammit.  Sorry, sir.

So, I got to Phoebs' room, look in, and she's not there.  Here, I think I mentally kicked myself: Phoebe doesn't like sleeping in her room.  She likes D.B.'s room, 'cause it's big and she's a kid who likes to spread out.  Quickly, I shuffled over to his room- the whole time I imagined I was some big hot-shot agent, like James Bond, traveling in an incognito style to rescue some princess of a foreign nation.  Anyhow- I got to D.B.'s room, opened the door and gently lifted the light.  D.B. had one of those light things, ya know, with the switch that lets you change the brightness?  Cost about a hundred dollars for it.

"Holden."

"Sorry, sir…"

Took a while, 'cause I didn't want to wake her up with a sudden blare of light, you know?  Finally, it was dim enough she wouldn't wake up, yet bright enough for me to see without running into the bed.  D.B. had a big bed- blue sheets, teal-ish blue comforter set, yeah- and Phoebe looked like she only took up about a sixteenth of it.  You could see her red hear peeking out from the sea of blues and stuff.  It was a nice scene, 'cause little kids always sleep nice.

Phoebe sleeps with her mouth open and curled up in a ball 'n stuff.  Sometimes she drools, like all little kids do.  Heh.  She's a funny kid.  I didn't have the heart to wake her up, though.  I sort of walked over to D.B.'s big desk and began shuffling through the notebooks.  Phoebe loves writing and creating stories.  Dang, she's a bright kid.  Straight A's and all- best in spelling though.

Anyhow, after I finished filing through her books, reading her stories, checking her grades and what not, I sort of decided I should wake her up and talk to her.  I walked back over to the bed and gently shook her shoulders.  Boy, she was up in a flash.  Her eyes got wide and excited and she jumped up.  You know how most girls would probably be wearing that crappy Hannah Montana junk?  Not Phoebe.  She likes elephants and good music.  Dang, she looked cute- her pajamas were sleeveless with little elephants etched into the collar, her wild reddish hair all up and sticking out.

So, she sort of threw her arms around me and hugged me- and man, after all that beer and cigarettes and crap, it was relieving.  She was all excited and all, her mouth moving about a mile a minute, I swear- little kids are like that.  We started talkin' and all, she was telling me about school, and the part she'd gotten in the school play.  Then she asked me about school and what not…

The doctor blinked as Holden fell silent, toying with his hoodie sleeves and staring at his twining hands.  The boy's face was pulled in upset at the memory.  The man decided to prod him back into talking- gently, calml.  "Holden?  What did Phoebe ask about school?"

Tears, uncharacteristic for Holden, sparked in his young eyes and he fell against the cushions, his head lulling back.  The doctor waited patiently before he spoke, his voice choked, "… she was mad at me, I swear she was…"

"Mad about what?"

"Getting the axe…  I felt… like… I disappointed her, or something… she looked so upset with me… Damn… she didn't even look at me- she just sorta… ya know… curled up under the comforter and refused to move."

"… why do you think she did that, Holden?"

Holden took a deep breath and closed his eyes, tears leaking through his closed lids.  "… I-I disap-ppointed her-r…"  The doctor sat in silence for a moment, taking notes on the boys reaction to this memory.  He must really love his sister.  The teenager took a deep breath, regained his composure and continued his tale.

I couldn't get her to talk to me…  So I went to find my dad's old pack of cigarettes- he always had one lying about, and I was shaking like a madman, anyhow.  Well, after I found an old pack in dear old Dad's old coat pocket, I shoved a few into my pocket and rummaged for the lighter I found at the bar the other night.  When I found it, I lit one and took a deep breath- calmed me down some, not much.  I still felt awful.

Anyhow, I finished the one and flicked it into the ashtray my dad had on the coffee table.  I considered leaving right then, but I knew I needed to make things right with Phoebe again.  I walked back into her room and she was still curled up under the covers.  I walked over to her and sort of patted her back, asking her to look up at me.

"Phoebs… Phoebs, please… c'mon Phoebs...  That school was a real bore anyhow, I'd much rather come and go to the high school here.  I wanna stay here with you, c'mon, Phoebs."  She didn't answer, and she had a helluva grip on the blanket- I couldn't pull it off her face.  I wanted to cry, a bit.  I felt so bad.  "Phoebe, please-!"

"You hate everything, Hold… you do… You do you do-!" she wailed, her voice muffled by the blankets.  I felt awful as I tried to pull her out of the quilts and stuff.

"I do not-!  I do not-!" I argued, struggling against her.  Let me tell you, for a scrawny nine-year-old, she's a strong squirt.  "I like plenty of things-!"

Phoebe shot up, her face red with anger and her fingers wound into fists about the blanket.  "Prove it-!"

I thought for a moment as she stared at me, her large eyes narrowed violently.  I tried to think, I really did.  But I kept getting distracted by thoughts whirling through my head.  I leaned back against my hands and stared up at her ceiling- heh!  She had a picture of an elephant up there too.

"You do hate everything!  You can't think of one single thing you like-!"

"I can too-!  Just give me a minute, dammit!"

Phoebe's lip stiffened and in the most adult voice she could muster, scolded, "Don't swear so much Holden-!"

I didn't care, really, I mean, I went to schools where that's all I heard.  Every.  Damn.  Day.

"I like Allie," I said.

"Allie's dead Hold!" Phoebe hissed at me, her eyes watering.

"Doesn't mean I can't still damn like him!  Just 'cause he's gone doesn't mean I can't miss him and like him, right?!  Damn, Phoebe…"

"Don't swear-!"

We stared at each other for a moment, and I looked away first.  I couldn't stand the look on her face, you know?  Anyways, I sort of started thinking about things, my mind wandering, considering all the things I had done that day.  She suddenly said, "Daddy's gonna kill you, Hold.  Kill you like nothing's ever been killed before!"

"I don't care, really, honest to hell, I don't," I said, falling back on the bed.  I closed my eyes and we fell silent again, listening to the sounds of the streets outside.  Honking cars, angry cab flaggers and drunkards.  New York, baby.  New York.

"… what are you gonna do with your life, Holden?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.  I opened my eyes and turned by head to look at her.  She's a cute thing, and I cannot stand her eyes.  I couldn't think of anything straight off, but I kept thinking.  As I was thinking, I thought of that boy I saw coming out of that movie with his parents- the one singing that old song?  Well, I sort of got to thinking about that- I like that song, you know, now that I look back on it.

"I'm gonna be a catcher in the rye.  That's what I'm going to be, I'll tell you what, Phoebe."  She gawked at me.  "When people come running, like some Mike Myers is tracking them down, I'll just pop out of nowhere and save them from falling off the cliff edge.  Keep them from dying and getting hurt.  Crazy, yeah, I know… but damn, Phoebe, it's what I want to do.  Catcher in the rye."

A loud beep from the doctor's watch stopped Holden's voice and the doctor sighed, clicking it off.  "Sorry, Holden, I have another appointment to get to- we'll continue next time, alright?"

Holden nodded, head still back against the cushions of the couch.  "Sure thing," he said, his eyes scrutinizing the ceiling with interest, his mind elsewhere.  The doctor stood up and patted Holden's shoulder with a smile.

"Thank you.  I will see you Thursday at the same time, alright?  Two hour session, will that be enough time to wrap up your dealings with your sister?"

"I guess."

"Alright, see you then," the doctor said, stepping out the door.  "Feel free to wait in here until your brother picks you up, alright?"

"Alright."

The door closed with a click and Holden was once again left alone in the room.  He sat there, staring at the ceiling.  A long, sad sigh pulled from his throat, wavering greatly as he choked back tears.  He fell suddenly to his side, curling into a ball on the soft couch.  His long arms wrapped about his knees and he stared blankly at the chair that was occupied previously by his therapist.

Tears rolled from his eyes and his voice, barely above a whisper, cracked,

"I wish there was a catcher for me…"

The Catcher in the Rye- J.D. Salinger
Section of modernization- KyRea Dalley

Description
Holden's foot tapped up and down as he waited in the therapy room; the teenager was sprawled on his back over the couch, his hands on his stomach, folded quite delicately, one leg crossed over the other.  His foot bobbed.  He closed his eyes, blocking out the light, and heaved a sigh- he didn't want to be here.  He really didn't.  He wanted to go home, believe it or not.  He wanted to see Phoebe again, maybe call Jane- if he felt like it, anyways.

Over the blast of his iPod, he heard the door creak open.  "Sorry about that Holden, we had a few troubles with my last patient."

" 'scool," Holden answered, raising his head up slightly; out of politeness, he took the ear buds out and tucked the electronic device away.  The doctor smiled slightly and tilted his head before striding over to his chair in a nonchalant fashion.  The sixteen year old took this as his signal to sit up; he did so, swinging his legs over and sitting up, leaning back against the cushioning of the couch.  The doctor smiled as he adjusted his clipboard and crossed his legs, looking over his patient with interest.  He was a sweet boy, he really was.

"Are you ready to continue from our last session?"

He nodded, his over grown bangs falling into his eyes again- Holden pushed them back with a scowl.  "Where'd I leave off-?"

"You were talking about sneaking in to see your sister again, I believe," the doctor stated, looking over his notes.  "If you will Holden, it will help if you do not digress much during this session, it may help us get to the root of the issue faster."

Holden scowled to himself and shifted awkwardly before he nodded, "Yessir…"

"Very good- now, you had just gotten into the apartment…"

After I got into our flat, I sort of closed the door- really quiet and all- that door squeaked like hell.  Anyways, after I closed it, I tiptoed down the hall to Phoebe's room- her room's the smallest.  Makes sense, right?  The girl, she's small, she gets the smallest room.  Ha… Sorry.  It must've took me about three hours, I swear, to get to her room.  We have this old maid, see, and she's got hearing like a bat- she is a bat, dammit.  Sorry, sir.

So, I got to Phoebs' room, look in, and she's not there.  Here, I think I mentally kicked myself: Phoebe doesn't like sleeping in her room.  She likes D.B.'s room, 'cause it's big and she's a kid who likes to spread out.  Quickly, I shuffled over to his room- the whole time I imagined I was some big hot-shot agent, like James Bond, traveling in an incognito style to rescue some princess of a foreign nation.  Anyhow- I got to D.B.'s room, opened the door and gently lifted the light.  D.B. had one of those light things, ya know, with the switch that lets you change the brightness?  Cost about a hundred dollars for it.

"Holden."

"Sorry, sir…"

Took a while, 'cause I didn't want to wake her up with a sudden blare of light, you know?  Finally, it was dim enough she wouldn't wake up, yet bright enough for me to see without running into the bed.  D.B. had a big bed- blue sheets, teal-ish blue comforter set, yeah- and Phoebe looked like she only took up about a sixteenth of it.  You could see her red hear peeking out from the sea of blues and stuff.  It was a nice scene, 'cause little kids always sleep nice.

Phoebe sleeps with her mouth open and curled up in a ball 'n stuff.  Sometimes she drools, like all little kids do.  Heh.  She's a funny kid.  I didn't have the heart to wake her up, though.  I sort of walked over to D.B.'s big desk and began shuffling through the notebooks.  Phoebe loves writing and creating stories.  Dang, she's a bright kid.  Straight A's and all- best in spelling though.

Anyhow, after I finished filing through her books, reading her stories, checking her grades and what not, I sort of decided I should wake her up and talk to her.  I walked back over to the bed and gently shook her shoulders.  Boy, she was up in a flash.  Her eyes got wide and excited and she jumped up.  You know how most girls would probably be wearing that crappy Hannah Montana junk?  Not Phoebe.  She likes elephants and good music.  Dang, she looked cute- her pajamas were sleeveless with little elephants etched into the collar, her wild reddish hair all up and sticking out.

So, she sort of threw her arms around me and hugged me- and man, after all that beer and cigarettes and crap, it was relieving.  She was all excited and all, her mouth moving about a mile a minute, I swear- little kids are like that.  We started talkin' and all, she was telling me about school, and the part she'd gotten in the school play.  Then she asked me about school and what not…

The doctor blinked as Holden fell silent, toying with his hoodie sleeves and staring at his twining hands.  The boy's face was pulled in upset at the memory.  The man decided to prod him back into talking- gently, calml.  "Holden?  What did Phoebe ask about school?"

Tears, uncharacteristic for Holden, sparked in his young eyes and he fell against the cushions, his head lulling back.  The doctor waited patiently before he spoke, his voice choked, "… she was mad at me, I swear she was…"

"Mad about what?"

"Getting the axe…  I felt… like… I disappointed her, or something… she looked so upset with me… Damn… she didn't even look at me- she just sorta… ya know… curled up under the comforter and refused to move."

"… why do you think she did that, Holden?"

Holden took a deep breath and closed his eyes, tears leaking through his closed lids.  "… I-I disap-ppointed her-r…"  The doctor sat in silence for a moment, taking notes on the boys reaction to this memory.  He must really love his sister.  The teenager took a deep breath, regained his composure and continued his tale.

I couldn't get her to talk to me…  So I went to find my dad's old pack of cigarettes- he always had one lying about, and I was shaking like a madman, anyhow.  Well, after I found an old pack in dear old Dad's old coat pocket, I shoved a few into my pocket and rummaged for the lighter I found at the bar the other night.  When I found it, I lit one and took a deep breath- calmed me down some, not much.  I still felt awful.

Anyhow, I finished the one and flicked it into the ashtray my dad had on the coffee table.  I considered leaving right then, but I knew I needed to make things right with Phoebe again.  I walked back into her room and she was still curled up under the covers.  I walked over to her and sort of patted her back, asking her to look up at me.

"Phoebs… Phoebs, please… c'mon Phoebs...  That school was a real bore anyhow, I'd much rather come and go to the high school here.  I wanna stay here with you, c'mon, Phoebs."  She didn't answer, and she had a helluva grip on the blanket- I couldn't pull it off her face.  I wanted to cry, a bit.  I felt so bad.  "Phoebe, please-!"

"You hate everything, Hold… you do… You do you do-!" she wailed, her voice muffled by the blankets.  I felt awful as I tried to pull her out of the quilts and stuff.

"I do not-!  I do not-!" I argued, struggling against her.  Let me tell you, for a scrawny nine-year-old, she's a strong squirt.  "I like plenty of things-!"

Phoebe shot up, her face red with anger and her fingers wound into fists about the blanket.  "Prove it-!"

I thought for a moment as she stared at me, her large eyes narrowed violently.  I tried to think, I really did.  But I kept getting distracted by thoughts whirling through my head.  I leaned back against my hands and stared up at her ceiling- heh!  She had a picture of an elephant up there too.

"You do hate everything!  You can't think of one single thing you like-!"

"I can too-!  Just give me a minute, dammit!"

Phoebe's lip stiffened and in the most adult voice she could muster, scolded, "Don't swear so much Holden-!"

I didn't care, really, I mean, I went to schools where that's all I heard.  Every.  Damn.  Day.

"I like Allie," I said.

"Allie's dead Hold!" Phoebe hissed at me, her eyes watering.

"Doesn't mean I can't still damn like him!  Just 'cause he's gone doesn't mean I can't miss him and like him, right?!  Damn, Phoebe…"

"Don't swear-!"

We stared at each other for a moment, and I looked away first.  I couldn't stand the look on her face, you know?  Anyways, I sort of started thinking about things, my mind wandering, considering all the things I had done that day.  She suddenly said, "Daddy's gonna kill you, Hold.  Kill you like nothing's ever been killed before!"

"I don't care, really, honest to hell, I don't," I said, falling back on the bed.  I closed my eyes and we fell silent again, listening to the sounds of the streets outside.  Honking cars, angry cab flaggers and drunkards.  New York, baby.  New York.

"… what are you gonna do with your life, Holden?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.  I opened my eyes and turned by head to look at her.  She's a cute thing, and I cannot stand her eyes.  I couldn't think of anything straight off, but I kept thinking.  As I was thinking, I thought of that boy I saw coming out of that movie with his parents- the one singing that old song?  Well, I sort of got to thinking about that- I like that song, you know, now that I look back on it.

"I'm gonna be a catcher in the rye.  That's what I'm going to be, I'll tell you what, Phoebe."  She gawked at me.  "When people come running, like some Mike Myers is tracking them down, I'll just pop out of nowhere and save them from falling off the cliff edge.  Keep them from dying and getting hurt.  Crazy, yeah, I know… but damn, Phoebe, it's what I want to do.  Catcher in the rye."

A loud beep from the doctor's watch stopped Holden's voice and the doctor sighed, clicking it off.  "Sorry, Holden, I have another appointment to get to- we'll continue next time, alright?"

Holden nodded, head still back against the cushions of the couch.  "Sure thing," he said, his eyes scrutinizing the ceiling with interest, his mind elsewhere.  The doctor stood up and patted Holden's shoulder with a smile.

"Thank you.  I will see you Thursday at the same time, alright?  Two hour session, will that be enough time to wrap up your dealings with your sister?"

"I guess."

"Alright, see you then," the doctor said, stepping out the door.  "Feel free to wait in here until your brother picks you up, alright?"

"Alright."

The door closed with a click and Holden was once again left alone in the room.  He sat there, staring at the ceiling.  A long, sad sigh pulled from his throat, wavering greatly as he choked back tears.  He fell suddenly to his side, curling into a ball on the soft couch.  His long arms wrapped about his knees and he stared blankly at the chair that was occupied previously by his therapist.

Tears rolled from his eyes and his voice, barely above a whisper, cracked,

"I wish there was a catcher for me…"

The Catcher in the Rye- J.D. Salinger
Section of modernization- KyRea Dalley