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Once spring rolled around and the snow started to melt, I started to get into the habit of walking around the neighborhood. The streets around my apartment aren’t much to look at, but if you go far enough west, you find those roads with huge maple trees along them. My dad’s got me talking to this psychoanalyst guy, and he says exercise is good for me—something about blood flow and neuro-chemicals or whatever crap—which is why I’ve been walking. He’s also been going on about male role models, which is why my dad now takes me golfing at the country club every other Saturday. I’ve also been playing tennis with Phoebe, but she isn’t all that quick yet, so half the time I’m just watching her run off the court to retrieve the ball. That always kills me. I still prefer walking, though. Helps to have time to myself, especially in the mornings. If I didn’t already have fencing, I would join the track team. I’m no Stradlater, but I’m already pretty athletic, and it would do me good to get some extra morning exercise. Anyways, I was walking westward down Parkview Avenue, and I usually would’ve turned around when I reached the highway. Today, however, I decided to walk all the way to McDougal, the school they’re sending me to in the fall. It’s not too far from my apartment, and it has a whole lot of tennis courts that they rent out to people in the area. I know, because that’s where Phoebe and I play tennis. The floors are good, but the chain-link fences are too short, which is how Phoebe keeps losing all our balls. As I walked, the road started to get steeper. Eventually it felt like I moved further down than forward with every step. The wind really started to pick up, too, and I took my hunting hat out of my pocket. When I left the house, the weather was actually nice, but here, the sunshine didn’t do much for the wind, and it was starting to get cold as hell. I put on the earlaps, and closed my eyes, to keep the wind out of them. Eventually, I started to get scared that I’d misstep and tumble down the hill, which scared the hell out of me. I’d probably get a concussion or twist my neck from a fall like that, so I tried walking backwards, facing away from the wind, so it’d blow on my back instead of straight into my face. I couldn’t see where I was going, but the wind would keep me from toppling over. At least I think so. I’m no good at science. By the time I got to the bottom of the hill, I realized I must’ve looked like a real screwball, walking backwards and all. I turned around to make sure there weren’t any people looking at me weird, but I didn’t see anyone, so I left my hunting hat on. The wind had let up, so I walked normally again. It wasn’t much further to McDougal, and I was already close enough to hear people shouting on the tennis courts. Busy day today, from the sound of it. I skirted around the edge of the courts so as not to look shady, but I figured it didn’t help. I was already walking all slow—only because I was tired—but it looked shady as hell either way. I was looking around at the people on the courts, too. On the court furthest from me there was a group of girls that looked my age, all wearing those same slinky white tennis dresses. I felt like a pervert standing there and watching, but I was getting invested in the game those girls were playing. It was a game of doubles, but there was this one girl that played pretty lousy. She kept hitting the ball too hard, and the others kept having to run after it. I swear, she was worse than Phoebe. I took off my hunting hat and shoved it in my pocket, but as soon as I looked back up again, I saw a flash of neon green before my vision went black. Something had nailed me right in the goddamn eye! I stumbled backward, and sat down on the ground, holding my eye. I couldn’t see too hot, especially when my good eye started to tear up, but I saw someone running over to me, and I could hear voices whispering. “Oh my gosh, Alma! What did you do?” “I didn’t mean to!” I felt a hand grasp my arm softly. I squinted and rubbed my eyes—I probably looked like a goddamn kid—but I could see a little clearer now. One of the tennis girls was hovering above me. I squinted a little more until I could make out her face, and realized I was staring right at Jane Gallagher. “Holden! Are you okay?” she said, squeezing my arm a little. By now, my entire head, not just my eye, hurt like hell, and I couldn’t really speak, so I just leaned onto her arm. It felt real nice having her take care of me. I’d thought about something like this every once in a while, and even though it was ripped straight out of some phony movie, it was fun to indulge it a little. I played up the injury a little, just so she’d stay a little longer. She kept asking me questions and all, but I didn’t respond. A part of me was really enjoying her fretting about me so much, and she seemed more attentive if I was less responsive. I laid my head down on her lap and closed my eyes. At some point I must’ve fallen asleep or passed out, because I woke up indoors all of a sudden. The pain had dulled, and I was lying on something very comfortable. I didn’t know where I was, but it looked like some kind of lounge. Jane was hovering over me, pressing something cold to my head. She looked so pretty, smiling over me. “Feeling any better?” she said gently. I did, but I thought that she’d leave if I wasn’t hurt anymore, so I frowned again. “It’s still throbbing a little,” I said. She asked me where, and I pointed somewhere on the left side of my face that didn’t really hurt. She moved the ice pack there, and it felt nice until it started to get too cold. Old Jane tried to push me back, and she put her hand on my chest. I swear I was gonna pass out. “Jane,” I said. “I think I’m fine now.” “Oh,” she said, all soft and sweet again. She took the ice pack off my head, stroking the part of my face it used to be on. I felt like some lousy kid when she did that, but it was sort of nice. For a long while, I lay there, almost falling asleep again. Jane sat next to me on the bed and combed her fingers through my hair. She really knocked me out, old Jane. “Are you looking for all the grey hairs?” I said. She looked down at me distractedly and giggled a little. “Oh, I just think you have nice hair. It’s so lovely. You’re a bit of a ginger too. I mean, it’s not as red as Phoebe’s hair, but it’s so pretty and soft. I’ve never met a guy with such nice, soft hair. Most of them ruin it with all that hair gel. But I guess they use hair gel to keep their hair from getting all messy. I don’t think you need any hair gel, though, because your hair really looks quite nice when it’s messy.” She turned a little red, and asked, “Is that weird? Do you want me to stop talking?” “No, no. Keep going.” I sort of reached up to pat her hand, which made her laugh even more, before she continued to go on about my hair. It was always so relaxing to hear her just go on and on about something. She doesn’t like to make small talk, but once you’re really close with her, she won’t shut up. Some people think it’s annoying, but I find it makes for some very intelligent conversation, having someone who always has something to discuss. I was just about to close my eyes and drift off while listening to her talk, when she nudged me with her knee and asked me something I didn’t hear. “I’m sorry, what did you say?” “Never change, Holden,” She said, shaking her head good-naturedly. “I was asking, why didn’t you call me over Christmas break?” Shit. “Well, I didn’t have much time to. I mean, with D.B. coming home for the holidays, I just had a lot going on… And Phoebe was performing in a play…” I’m usually a terrific liar, but I couldn’t think of anything good now. It felt awful lying to old Jane. I hate it when I have to. She looked at me, all disappointed, like she could tell I was lying. That’s the thing with Jane. You never know what’s the matter with her, but she always knows what’s the matter with you. “That’s okay. I was just curious.” She stood up to put away the ice pack, which was melting and dripping onto the nice carpet. I watched her go, following her with my eyes until she left the room and I couldn’t see her. I kept looking at the door she went through, as if it would tell me how she was feeling. When Jane came back, she sat down next to me again, even though I wasn’t lying down anymore. She touched my head, applying a little pressure here and there, and asked me if it hurt each time she moved her hand. At first it was fine, but then she found a spot that hurt like hell every time she even got near it. “Hey!” I winced, and she stopped touching my head as soon as I did. “Looks like you still need some rest,” she said. “Once you feel better, though, it’d be amazing if you could come and play a few rounds with me.” I nodded, still sore about her poking at my head. “Did you not go to the last football game of the season last year?” she asked. She was sitting much more awkwardly now, her hands clasped in her lap tightly. “Didn’t feel like it.” “Oh. I went. I thought I’d see you there, ‘cause your school’s team was playing. You know, the guy I went with, Ward Stradlater, he’s your roommate, isn’t he? Well, he was, I mean. He told me that you got kicked out.” “He did?” That bastard. “And that coat he was wearing! It looked just like yours.” “It was mine! He borrowed it.” “I think it looked better on you.” She could be so sweet sometimes. “Anyways, it was really lousy without you there. After the game, we sat in his car, and he kept trying to give me a feel.” I got real nervous when I heard that, and asked, “Did he… do anything weird to you?” “God, no! I left early.” She fidgeted with her hands, and continued talking. “Honestly, I think it’s a good thing that you don’t go to Pencey anymore. At least, that you don’t live with Ward. He seems like a real tool.” I laughed, a bit louder than I intended to. “Oh, he is, that Stradlater.” I decided not to tell her what happened that night after she went on that date with him. Jane could probably tell this conversation wouldn't go anywhere nice, and changed the subject. “So, what school are you going to in the fall?” “I’m coming here. McDougal.” “Oh, that’s awesome! You know, Shipley is actually the sister school of McDougal!” “That’s fun.” Shipley? Didn’t she say she went B.M.? I could’ve sworn she went to B.M. “Yeah. I guess we’ll be spending a lot of time together.” She blushed when she said that. ”The guys here are pretty cool. To be honest, they’re not as great as you, but they’re nice.” She kept talking, but I couldn’t really hear her because she had leaned her head on my shoulder and sort of clinging onto my arm. Girls don’t really do that kind of thing unless you’ve already been necking a lot and they really like you. I didn’t know if Jane really liked me. We sat there, Jane resting her head on my shoulder and her hands around my arm. The more I let her talk, the less her hands fidgeted. She looked comfortable, so I didn’t want to move, even though my arm started to cramp. Some things are well worth doing for a girl that really knocks you out.