Chapter told from Phoebe's POV: Chapter 21

I guess I was a little confused as to whether or not Holden coming into D.B.'s bedroom was a dream or not. I always sleep in D.B.'s bedroom when he's away writing stuff in Hollywood. He lets me. He knows I need to spread out, so he lets me stay in his room, with his big writing desk and his big bed. To tell you the truth, I don't like my room. It's too small. That's why I plan on moving into D.B.'s room as soon as he officially gets a place in Hollywood. Maybe I'll get to visit him.

So there I was, in D.B.'s enormous bed, sleeping, when suddenly I hear somebody say, "Wake up, Phoeb,". I opened my eyes and Holden was standing right there next to my bed! I didn't know if I was hallucinating or not; I've read lots of books on people getting hallucinations of people they love, and how when they try to reach out and touch them, the hallucination disappears and they realize that it was just a mirage. And then they get depressed. Sort of like how Holden says he feels.

Immediately I grabbed Holden and hugged him, the tightest I've ever hugged somebody. I was so glad to see him; seeing Holden really makes my heart soar. He's the only interesting one in the family, really. The only one who hasn't gone nuts. Besides Allie. But Allie doesn't count, since he's dead. And when you're dead, and you're in Heaven, you don't exist anymore. You've kind of evaporated. Like the water cycle Ms. Callon always seems fascinated about: you're born, and then you evaporate.

Anyway, as soon as I was done hugging Holden––I was afraid I'd suffocate him, even though I'm smaller than him, but things like that happen all the time on the news and stuff. People suffocating, I mean––I asked him if he'd gotten my letter. I'd spent lots of time on that letter. It was five pages, exactly. And I didn't even use Daddy's typewriter: it was handwritten, and I did it all by myself. I knew Holden had to be proud of that.

Then Holden asked me about the play I wrote to him about. A Christmas Pageant for Americans. If you ask me, I think it's terrible. But I got a huge part. I'm Benedict Arnold. And it's great, because I'm on stage a lot. It would stink if I'd gotten a small part because then I'd have to sit backstage and listen to the whole play. If you're a big part in a bad play, it's alright, though. You don't have time to listen to the actual play because you're too busy trying to remember your lines.

I asked Holden if he was planning on coming, and he said "Sure I'm coming. Certainly I'm coming." Which is more than i can say about Daddy. He has to go to California. Maybe he'll see D.B., if he happens to pass by Hollywood and all. Maybe he'll even forgive D.B. I don't even know why Daddy's so mad at D.B. for running off in the first place. It's not like D.B. is doing anything bad. Not that I know of, anyway. But when I ask Daddy if he can just call up D.B. and just talk to him, Daddy'll just shake his head and say, "No, Phoebe. You don't understand. It's a grownup thing." I hate it when Daddy says that.

Then, as Holden was telling me he'd come for sure, I remembered how Holden's school didn't let out 'til Wednesday.

"Holden, Mother said you'd be back on Wednesday." Holden looked kind of uncomfortable and told me not to speak so loudly. I don't like making Holden uncomfortable. So I changed the subject real quick and told him about the party Mother and Daddy were at in Norwalk, to calm him. That way he could stop worrying about them waking up.

It didn't seem to work, though, so I told him about the movie I saw with Alice Holmberg at the Lister Foundation, The Doctor. Today was the only day they were playing it. I told him all about the plot, and how annoying Alice's mother was every time she leaned over me and asked Alice if she felt grippy, because she was sick. I really should've switched seats with Alice; Mrs. Holmberg is quite a large woman. But I didn't tell Holden that.

It didn't look like that was calming him down either because Holden kept interrupting me to ask when Mother and Daddy were coming back. I didn't know what to say, so I kept on going with my story. Finally I realized he wasn't listening to the plot anymore, so I just told him not 'til very late. Holden doesn't get excited about movies too much. I think he has something against them.

As soon as I'd told him Mother and Daddy were coming home very late, he looked very relaxed. Pleased with myself for finally calming Holden down, I went on to tell Holden about the new radio in the car, and how Mother went crazy imagining all sorts of accidents that would happen if we left the radio on when we were on the highway. So now we can't play the radio when we're in traffic, which kind of stinks since that means we can only listen to it for about ten minutes before we leave our neighborhood. I've told Mother about it, but she won't listen. She'll just get up and go get a cigarette.

Then Holden took out some little black vinyl pieces that looked like pieces of a broken record, and he told me how it fell and broke on the sidewalk before he could give it to me. I decided to save the pieces; I'm always saving stuff that Holden gives me. I put it all in this box under my bed that he gave me when I was little for my birthday. It was only a shoebox with stars drawn clumsily on it with crayon, because Holden had forgotten to get me anything. I don't know why, but I loved it. Ever since, every time he sends me something, it goes right into that shoebox. Maybe I could put the pieces back. Wouldn't it be something if it could play! Holden would be so impressed.

Afterwards Holden asked me if D.B. was coming home. I told him that it depended, as Mother put it. I told him that D.B. was writing a new picture, about Annapolis. For some reason that made Holden get real mad, because he started raving about how D.B. didn't know a thing about Annapolis, and why was he writing a picture about it. Then he noticed the adhesive tape on my elbow, right where Curtis Weintraub pushed me. He pushed me real hard down the stairs in the park. I told Holden about him, and then I told him how Selma Atterbury and I put ink and stuff all over his windbreaker.

But instead of laughing, which I'd expected, Holden got real mad and told me how it wasn't nice. Then he called me a child. Well, that really stung. There's something strange about me: you can call me mean, you can call me an idiot, I really don't care. I'll just laugh right in your face. But if you call me a child...there's just something about that I can't stand.

So I explained how Curtis was always getting on my nerves, following me around the park and all. And then Holden said something completely uncalled for: he suggested that Curtis liked me! I can't even begin to imagine all of the things wrong with that theory! I told him that I didn't want Curtis to like me, since I didn't like him. Then I remembered how he'd never replied to my mentioning him coming home on Wednesday. So, even though I was risking making him uncomfortable again, I brought up the subject once more. To tell you the truth I was getting a little mad at him myself.

Holden muttered something about watching me every minute, but I went on:

"How come you're not home Wednesday? You didn't get kicked out or anything, did you?" And then my heart sunk, because I realized that it was the only logical explanation.

And the excuses Holden began making about the school letting everybody out early only further confirmed that he'd gotten kicked out.

"You did get kicked out!" I almost stood up on my bed, I was getting so excited. I punched him on the leg with my fist. "You did! You did! Oh, Holden!" I put my hand to my mouth. I couldn't believe it.

All this time I'd thought he was just visiting me from Pencey, with a pass and all, but he'd only come over here because he'd gotten kicked out!

"Daddy's gonna kill you!" I wailed, flopping down on my bed and putting my pillow over my head. I don't know why, but whenever I'm mad or sad or upset, I just run into D.B.'s room and put the pillow over my head. Mother once told me that one time, when I was three or four, I'd broken a vase but didn't tell them. So I spent four hours––four hours!––in D.B.'s room with my pillow on my head, until Daddy and Mother came home from work and saw the vase.

So while Holden was begging me to take the pillow off of my head and all, all I could think about was losing Holden, almost like I'd lost Allie, since Allie didn't get kicked out of school. And to Daddy! Because even though Daddy can be nice, I know he could kill any one of us in two seconds flat. Daddy is a strong person. He once played football or something when he was in college. He's always tried to get Holden and D.B. motivated to join sports and stuff, but they never want to. Maybe that's why Daddy acts so disappointed about Holden and D.B. He always talks about how Allie'd be a fine athlete, were he alive today.

Then Holden tried pulling the pillow off of my head, but I held on tight. I'm pretty strong when I want to. I mean, not when we're doing stuff like running in school, but if I want to I can be almost as strong as Daddy. Maybe I am as strong as Daddy, but I just don't want to let it show for some reason. After all, if all that genetic stuff they talk about in Holden's science books is true, it would make sense, right?

Then again, seeing D.B.'s and Holden's lack of muscles, maybe it's just a bunch of scientific mumbo-jumbo after all.