They always gave you a big meal on a Saturday. Steak. I think it was because a lot of the guy’s parent came up to the school on a Sunday and there mothers would always ask them, ‘Sweetheart, what did you have for your dinner last night?’ and they would always reply ‘ Steak.’ Just to make Pencey sound a little bit better than it really was.

It was good when we finally got out of the dining hall. It was coming down like a madman and there were already about three inches of it. The snow I mean.

Me and this guy decided to go see a lousy film cause neither of us had dates and we didn’t want to sit around all night. I asked Ackley if he wanted to come, but all he was interested in was who else was goin. Besides me. That’s all he ever wanted to know, who else was going.

Anyway, we were waiting for about five hours for Ackley to get ready. That gives me a royal pain in the ass too. Guys that take about five hundred hours to get ready. I mean, it’s not like he has to brush his teeth or anything.

While i was waiting, I decided to pack a snowball. I was gonna throw it a car parked accross the street but it looked so nice and white so I changed my mind.

Goddam movies. I hate movies. Especially when you have to sit next to Brossard and Ackley, laughing there socks off at stuff that’s not even remotely funny.

After he left, I put on my bathrobe and started to write Stradlater his stupid composition. I couldn’t think of anything to write about. Not even a beach or a house or a room. Nothing. So I decided to write about Allie’s baseball mitt. The thing that was descriptive about it was that it had poems written all over the fingers. He wrote them so he had something to read while he was waiting to bat.

Allies one of the most nicest people you would have ever met in your life. He never got mad a t anybody and he was really intelligent. The night he died, I slept in the garage and ended up braking all the goddam windows.

Yeah, so that’s what I wrote about. Allie’s baseball mitt. I miss him sometimes. I really do.

I went down to the can. I chewed the fat with him while he was shaving. Everyone was still at the game so we were the only ones there. He kept whistling. Boy he had an annoying whistle. It was one of those piercing ones that are never ever in tune. He always ruins songs.

Stradlater’s a slob. Kinda like Ackley. But Stradlater was more of a secret slob. He always looked okay, but you should’ve seen the rusty razor he was using. It was full of lather and hair and crap. Boy it was disgusting. He looks alright when he cleans himself up, but he’s still a slob. A secret one. The only reason he fixed himself up, was because he was obsessed with himself.

Anyway, I just sat on the washbowl next to him.“Hey” he said. “Fancy doing me a big favour?” He always asked you to do him a big favour.
“You see, I’ve got a hundred pages to read for history by Monday. And I’ll be up the creek if I don’t get it done.”
“What do you want me to do about it.?”
“How bout writing a composition for English for me?”
I was quite ironic. “I’m flunking out of the goddam place and your asking me to write you a goddam composition!”
He asked me again but I didn’t answer him straight away. He called me his ‘Buddyroo’. But I knew he was only sayin that just to get me to write him a composition.
“What on?”
“Anything descriptive. But don’t go sticking commas in all the right places. I don’t want it to look too good.”
Boy, that gives me a royal pain in the ass. I mean he asks me to do him a favour and then tells me how to do it!

I decided to dance a little bit. You know, imitating one of those dancing guys from the films. It probably looked ridiculous as hell but I didn’t really care. I hated movies with a passion, but I got a kick out of imitating them. I stopped when I got out of breath. “So who’s your date then? Fitzgerald?”
“Hell no! I told you I’m through with her.”
“Who then?”
“I forgot to tell you. She knows you. My date.”
“Really? What’s her name?”
“Hold on. I’m thinking…….. Jean Gallagher I think her name is.”
My heart stopped for a second.
“Jane Gallagher?”
“Yeah that’s it. You know her?”
I jumped up from the washbowl. I damn nearly died I was that excited. “Hell yeah I know her. She lived practically next to me the summer before last. She had this goddam dog that kept coming in our garden that’s how I -.”
“Holden! For chrissake. Get out of my goddam light.”
That was it. Once I started talking about jane, I couldn’t stop. I think it kinda got on Stradlater’s nerves. I didn’t care. I was way to excited.
“Willya do me a favour and ask her if she still keeps her kings in the back row?”
“Ask her what?”
“I used to play checkers with her all the –.”
“Checkers! For chrissake Holden.”
“Oh and don’t tell her I got kicked out willya?”
“Why would I tell her that?”
“I dunno I just-.”
“Where the hell are my cigarettes?”
“Over on the desk.”

Entry 3

The first football game of the year, he drove up to school in this goddam Cadillac and we had to give him a goddam cheer. Then in the chapel the next morning he tried to show us he was a regular guy and all, by doing this goddam speech that lasted about fifteen hours. It really did. He made like fifty of the most stupidest and most corniest jokes you ever heard in your entire life. He just started waffling on about Jesus like there was no tomorrow. Ha! It killed me when he said he talked to Jesus all the time, even in his stupid car.The only good part of his pointless speech was when this guy in the front row, Edgar Marsalla laid one hell of a fart. Hardly anybody laughed. Though it was quite amusing. But I spose it was a bit crude aswell, with it being in a chapel and all. Anyway, that’s where I stayed. The Ossenburger memorial wing, in the new dorms.

Everyone was down at ‘The big game’. I put this hat on that I’d bought in New York that morning after I realized I left my goddam stuff on the subway. I sat down and started to read my book. "Out of Africa" by Isak Dinesen. It was quite a good book. But to tell you the truth I thought it would be boring as hell. I like to read. My favourite authors are my brother, D.B and Ring Lardner.

Robert Ackley. He always barged in on me just when I started to do something. Boy he gets on my nerves. The worst bit is, the only thing separating out rooms is a shower curtain.

Anyway, Ackley. He’s one of the really tall guys. With round shoulders, and has the most horrifying teeth ever. He really has. Nobody ever saw him brushing his teeth and if you ever saw him with a face full of food you were nearly sick. Oh yeah, he’s got the worst skin you’ve ever seen aswell. I mean hes not just got pimples on his chin or on his nose. He’s got em all over his face. Its pretty disgusting.

He started talking to me, but I wasn’t too interested. When he realized I was ignoring him, he started walking round my room and picking up my personal stuff. He always did that.
“How was the fencing? We win?” I knew he wasn’t interested he just wanted me to stop reading my book.
“ Nobody won." I still didn’t look up from my book. I’m not giving him what he wants. He kept asking me questions that had nothing to do with him and stuff that probably bored him to death. Goddam phoney.

Afterwards, he started to clean his goddam fingernails with the end of a match. If you ever saw Ackley’s teeth and ears, you would think he didn’t clean at all. I guess he thought it made him a neat guy and all. Cleaning his nails. But it really didn’t.

He made me give him my scissors so he could cut his goddam disgusting fingernails.
“Cut em over the table willya?” He ignored me and carried on cutting them all over the goddam place. I asked him over and over again but he still didn’t listen. He just kept changing the subject to Stradkater and how much he hate him.
“Ackley! For chrissake! Cut em over the goddam table. Please.” And for once he did it. I only think he listens if you shout at him.

I sat there. Just watching him for a while. “The only reason you hate Ackley so much is because he said that stuff to you about not brushing your teeth.”
“Don’t gimme that. I brush my teeth.”
“Don’t give me that. I’ve seen you loads of times and I’ve never seen you brush em.”

Stradlater barged in. In a hurry, as usual. He only came back to borrow my jacket. I didn’t want stretching the goddam printer or anything, but I let him wear it anyway.
“Where’s your date?”
“Waiting at the Annex.”
He walked out the room with a toilet kit and a towel under his arm. No shirt or anything. He never wore a shirt cause he thought he had a damn good build. And I’ll admit. He did.