Excerpt From 'Catcher In The Rye'

Isaiah Tarwater

Golden, 5

End-of-Unit Creative Writing

I was awoken by the whispering sound of my name,

“Sally...Sally...Wake up dear there's someone on the phone to speak with you. I told the young man you were asleep but he insisted, it must be important.” It was grandmother shaking me.

“What did you say his name was?” I whispered, my voice still rough, having just awoken.

“He said his name was Holden Coleman no, that's not right Callahan? Aww I’m such a fat-head”

“Caulfield!? Grandmother, was the boy’s name Holden Caulfield?”

“That's the one. He's on the phone in the parlor, dear; I suspect he's still there. He sounded pretty drunk. Probably coulda lost his stompers.”

I then proceeded to lunge from my bed, still in my pink floral nightgown, sliding around the corner on the hardwood. I slammed into the couch in the parlor, my hands grasping the wall for the light switch. After thirty seconds of blindly searching the wall I found the switch. I went to grab the phone, but remembered the terms I left our date on. God I was so angry with him. I had to pretend I was still upset when in reality I'd been thinking of him all day, the way he talks, the way he always drags his feet when he

I'm sure he already regretted phoning me that late at night already. Earlier that night I thought about going out for a night with George, but all I could think of was Holden, anything about him. The scent of the morning musk made me think of him; the newspaper being tossed onto our steps made me think of his reading. The door slamming when my father gets home makes me think of him. I could be angry for a little bit with Holden, but I'm never as mad as he thinks I am. I could never be mad at him for long; he was perfect for me. I love Holden, I always will, but I'm not sure what he thinks of