Catcher, Caught

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When I first met Holden Caulfield, I didn’t know I was dying. He’s way more cool than me, but I like how he tells what it’s like to be him. Straight out. Real. And even though his story is lots more exciting, I’m going to tell you mine anyway. It may be the last thing I do.

So how’d I hook up with Holden? The Catcher in the Rye is required reading for tenth grade, along with a long list of other books, mostly ones I’ve never heard of. The Essex County library has four copies of Catcher. Worn edges, faded covers. Obviously lots more people than me have read it. The front’s what grabbed me. Plain maroon with little yellow letters, like it was no great shakes. And the way Holden writes, you can almost hear him thinking. It’s wild how clearly the dude’s voice sounds in my head.

You have to excuse my skipping around. I don’t have a lot of practice at this kind of thing and I’m short on time. According to the doctors.

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