How ‘The Catcher in the Rye’ should have ended

This term, Year 10 English students have been studying J.D. Salinger’s ‘The Catcher in the Rye’ and exploring how the novel reflects the complicated American post-war context through the lens of the deeply flawed protagonist, Holden Caulfield. Students were tasked with penning an additional chapter to the text; the results are testament to their thoughtful engagement with the unit and developing creative writing skills.

I’ve been out of the place for a couple weeks now. They said I was “rested enough,” whatever the hell that’s supposed to mean. It’s fall now, and I’m supposed to go back to school, to this crumby new joint my parents picked out. They think a fresh start’ll do me good. They’re always thinking that sort of thing.

I finally bumped into old Jane; I was sitting in the park reading one of those corny new magazines. If you want to know the truth, I just felt like being outside for a while.

I was just looking around and there she was: horsing around with her hot-shot friend. I figured I was hallucinating or something, I swear to God I thought I was dreaming. Sleeping’s a pain in the ass after coming out of that dump. But then she looked at me, caught me staring at her and her corny friend. For a minute there, I figured she’d be all weirded out, but she wasn’t. A kind of fat smile spread across her face.

I watched old Jane whisper something to her friend, and then the friend shot me the kind of dirty look you’d expect If I’d just slapped her mother or something. Then the broad sprinted off to the playground like she was late for recess or something. I didn’t even bother to feel pissed off, which, I guess means I’m getting a little better at dealing with crap like that.

Jane then starts walking my way, like she wasn’t in a hurry or anything. She looked pretty good, if you want to know the truth. She had her hair all tied back in some kind of bun thing, wearing this brown trench coat like she was trying to look all fashionable or something. I gotta say, she didn’t look half bad, not that I really give a damn about fashion or any of that crap. Still, it was enough to catch your eye if you weren’t totally out of it.

She knew I was looking at her, not that she was cocky or anything, but she knew she looked good. You could tell, even if she tried not to care. It’s funny how people act like they don’t care when they really do.

I opened my mouth to say something, but to be honest, I didn’t have a clue what I was gonna say. Before I could even get a word out, she just threw herself down on the bench next to me and wrapped her arms around my neck like it was no big deal.

I wouldn’t say this to just anybody, but for a minute there, when old Jane had her arms wrapped around me like she was sucking the oxygen right out of my lungs, it actually felt pretty nice. Like all the lousy crap in the world just kind of disappeared for a while.

After what felt like a whole goddam year, Jane finally pulled away, that same big, goofy smile still plastered on her face. “My parents wanted to head back down to Maine for the fall,” she said, “but I figured we hadn’t been to the city in a while.”

I don’t know, it killed me, her saying that. Like maybe she actually missed this crummy city, or maybe she just missed me. I wasn’t about to ask, though. That’s the kind of thing you don’t ask if you don’t want it screwed up.

I tried to say something again, but the talkative broad just wouldn’t let me get a word in.

“I heard about Pencey,” she said. “Your stupid friend Stradlater told me.”

I could feel my face turning red like some goddam kid. It figures old Stradlater would run his mouth after the brawl, probably made it sound like I got kicked out for setting the place on fire or something. The bastard had this way of making everything sound worse, especially when it came to people like Jane. I don’t know, I got this lousy feeling maybe he’d said something to her he shouldn’t have, the way she said it. And the worst part is, I couldn’t even ask.

“You don’t have to look like that,” Jane said, tilting her head at me a little. “I’m not mad or anything.”

I swear to God, that kind of thing always kills me, when people act like you’re about to turn psycho or something. I wasn’t even sure what kind of face I was making, but I could feel it.

“Yeah? Well, I sort of figured Stradlater would say something crumby,” I said. I tried to play it off as a joke, but it came out all stiff.

She shrugged, “He’s a real moron. Always was.”

I swear, hearing her say that nearly knocked me over. Old Jane, calling Stradlater a moron, that’s the kind of thing you don’t forget.

“Yeah,” I said. “He is. A real royal pain.”

She gave me this soft laugh, the kind you don’t really hear much. It was like she meant it, like she actually found it funny.

“He said you got kicked out again,” she said. “I figured; I don’t know. That you’d be around.”

I could’ve said a hundred things right then, a hundred goddam things. But I didn’t. Instead, I just said, “I’m around.”

And for once, it didn’t feel like I was lying.

She didn’t say anything for a moment. Just sat there, fiddling with hair. I watched her for a second, not in a creepy way or anything, just watching.

“There’s something different about you Holden,” she said, soft.

I almost shot back with some comment. That would’ve been the old me, the real hot-shot. But instead, I just sort of smiled, a real one this time, I think. I could tell she meant it in a soft way. “Yeah. I think I guess there is.”

She smiled back, and for once, I didn’t feel like I had to explain myself or act like a goddamn fool. We just sat there, not talking much. And it wasn’t phony or anything at all. It felt… Nice.

When she finally stood up, wrapping her coat closer to her chest, she said, “I’ll see you around, Holden.”

“Yeah. I’ll see you,” I said.

Maybe I would. And maybe I wouldn’t. But this time, it didn’t scare the hell out of me.

Sofia B, Year 10

It was starting to get pretty cold out, but Luce wasn’t going to show for another goddam half hour. I didn’t want to go into the bar yet – I’d rather stay out of that pretentious place as long as possible – but there were barely any other open joints around, and I had to get out of the goddam arctic. The only place was this sad second-hand bookshop on the corner of 54th. The roof was sagging and there was tape across the windows – you’d swear the thing was about to crumble – but it was better than the lousy street, so I went in.

As soon as I did, I wished I hadn’t. I’d never been hit with such a depressing smell in my life; old crummy paper and cheap candles. I damn near beat it the hell out of there, to tell you the truth, but I’d already sounded the bells on the door.

‘Come in.’ A lady at the counter was labelling books, or doing whatever the hell else you do at a bookshop, about in her late thirties, I’d say. But her face said it all – you’d think she hadn’t slept since last Christmas, for chrissake. She didn’t even look up, just kept sticking labels on books. Gotta feed the family, I guess. But hell, what a depressing job.

 ‘You got any children’s literature? “The Secret Garden” or something?’ I was partly asking for Phoebe, but mostly just trying to make the lady feel like she had business. You’d do the same, if you knew how depressing it felt in there. You really would.

The lady shrugged. ‘Dunno. We just stock what we find. We’re second hand, kid.’ Boy, somebody wasn’t in the mood to chat.

I tried browsing a bit, pretending to look for the book, but I wasn’t sure what the cover looked like. I’d only seen it once – this little girl on the train, splendid pink dress and all, was grinning while reading it. Guess it left a good impression on me. But judging by the dusty shelves that damn near choked me, I doubted I’d find it here.

I must admit, I was sort of in the mood to chew the fat a bit, so I asked, ‘You ever read that stuff you’re labelling?’

‘Only when I forget what boredom feels like,’ the lady replied. I smirked – she was witty, she really was.

‘So you’re not a reader?’

‘I didn’t say that. I read. Just not the nonsense in this dump.’

‘Right.’ I wished I hadn’t started the conversation then, because that only made me feel more depressed. She knew how crummy the place was and still came back every day. ‘So you never thought about leaving your job, then?’

Lady shrugged. ‘I used to. Thought I’d do something else, but time kept passing. Now, guess this is my “something else”.’

‘But why stay here if it’s such a dump?’ That got her to stop her goddamn labelling.

‘Kid, it’s just different books on the same shelves. Leaving doesn’t mean you’ll find better – just more of the same. So it’s easier to stay.’ I was confused then – don’t get me wrong, hearing that was miserable – but at least she wasn’t pretending to love her job or any of that crap like those lousy Pencey parents. God, they were such phonies.

‘It is what is is. Worse jobs exist,’ she continued. You had to admire her optimism; I could hardly work a day in her job without becoming suicidal. At least she just accepted it.

‘Anyway kid, you here for anything, or just hanging around hoping for a floor show?’ She was forward, that lady. She really was. Maybe she managed that dull job without going nuts by keeping herself entertained with customers like me. Finding control in her little book-stamping routine and all. I wasn’t sure I could live that way, but I saw her logic.

‘No, sorry. Actually, I’d better go,’ I said, glancing at my wristwatch. Damn it. I was due to meet Luce five minutes ago.

I was halfway out the door, when I stopped and looked back.

‘Hey. You ever know where those ducks at the lagoon go in winter? When the lake’s frozen over and all?’ I only asked because she had more wits than any of those damn taxi drivers; maybe she had a clue. But she just screwed up her eyebrows like I’d asked if books could bleed or something. Most people do that when I ask them damn near anything – hell, I don’t even know why I cared about those stupid ducks.

 ‘I always thought they just stayed in the park and stood the cold. Waited it out till spring.’ She said.

‘But wouldn’t you see them if they were just hanging around waiting?’

‘Well, I don’t know, but they always return, don’t they? Look kid, some things we don’t know. We won’t find out. Best to accept that, rather than chase answers we won’t find.’

I shrugged, sceptical but intrigued. I almost wanted to stick around, hear more of that lady’s cryptic crap. But Luce was waiting, so I said thanks and left. She was weird, that lady, she really was. But damn clever too. Her whole philosophy about ‘staying’ and all sounded cliché, but maybe there was something to it.

Matilda L, Year 10

I left the hotel in a rush that morning. I just had to get out of there. I looked around at the crowd of the street. A hive of bustling people, each caught up in their own flimsy problems. An old man waddled along with a walking stick, ignoring the queue gathering up behind his slow steps. A girl, looking all posh and everything, out of place the rowdiness of the street, prancing around like she owned the place. A small boy, with a red beanie covering his hair, hidden amongst the crowd. I stopped, right there in the middle of the path, with people pushing against me from all over, staring at him. For some reason, this kid remined me of my brother Allie. He was walking ahead of me, making a tunnel through the swarm of people. I swear, I don’t know why, but I followed the boy, right down the street, even though I had already been that way. I kept behind him for a while, but I didn’t speak. He was alone, just like me. 

I don’t know how long I was chasing after him for. I wasn’t aware of anything around us, heck, I could have walked right out of New York, and I wouldn’t have noticed as long as that goddamn kid stayed in front of me. As I followed, I heard the boy humming a tune. I don’t know what it was, but it sure did sound familiar.  

 After a while, the kid stopped. Looking around, I realised where we were. The lake in Central Park South was pretty quiet at the time, just me, the boy, and a few other people, lost in their own worlds. The ice of the lake was clouded and foggy. I looked for some sign of fish, like that taxi driver said, but I couldn’t see anything. The kid turned and looked at me. It kind of shocked me how confident he was. He didn’t shy away or lose interest, just stared me down like I was some mysterious alien from outer space. I didn’t really know what to do, if I’m being deadly honest. How often is it that you see a kid that looks exactly like your dead brother?  

“Hey, look here kid, I’ve got a question for you” As I spoke, the boy turned finally turned away from me, his eyes settling on the lake in front of us. It’s not like a kid this young would know, but it was worth a shot, I thought. “Where do you think the ducks go in the winter?” 

He turned to me, confused. “What ducks?” 

“You know, the ones in the lake in the summer.” 

“Oh.” He sat for a moment, all thoughtful and everything, on that stupid bench, which was getting colder by the minute. “Don’t you know? They fly away. Down south, where its warmer.” 

I was surprised. The first person to give me an answer to this goddamn question was a kid, no more than ten years old. Of all the people in the world, of course it had to be a goddamn kid.  

“All of them?” I asked. 

“I guess so” he said, returning his attention to the water. 

We sat like that for a while, just two people on a bench. It was kind of nice, I guess. They’re funny, kids. Pulling your leg or acting like everything’s the end of the world or something. They kill me, usually. But not this one. This one was different. 

“But what if one of them can’t? What if it can’t fly away from the winter?” I said. 

“What do you mean? They can all fly. They’re ducks” 

“No, not this one. It’s still a duck, but it can’t fly. What the hell is it supposed to do? Just stagger on its feet, all the way down south, while the others are flying way above it?” 

“I don’t know!” The kid threw his arms up in the air, something Allie would do. “I guess it just has to learn.” He stood up, satisfied with his answer. “I have to go. See you around then.” He waved as he skipped down the path, away from the lake. He really was just a goddamn kid after all. 

“Yeah. See you.” I called out behind him. 

I sat there the rest of the day, till my fingers got numb and the red hunting hat was coated in frost. With a pang in my stomach, I got up and staggered, half-frozen, back to the hotel. 

Louisa HB, Year 10