The Catcher in The Rye

THE CATCHER IN THE RYE
By Kevin Flinn
Based on the novel by J.D. Salinger
kevin_flinn@hotmail.com
kevinflinn.net
@kflinn1
THE CATCHER IN THE RYE 1
FADE IN:
EXT. FOOTBALL FIELD – AFTERNOON
Two teams of prep schoolers in 1950s football gear SMASH into

each other. On one side of the field sit bleachers full of
bundled-up fans, CHEERING and waving banners that read PENCEY.
The players and fans exhale clouds of breath into the blustery
December air. Another play, more CRACKS of helmets and referees’
WHISTLES.
As the offense huddles, a defender looks past the goalposts, up

the steep, grassy hill beyond…
EXT. THOMSEN HILL – SAME
A Revolutionary War cannon on wheels stands guard over the game

below. Sitting on his haunches next to the cannon is lanky
HOLDEN CAULFIELD (16), wearing a red HUNTING HAT.
Shivering, Holden blows into his hands and then stuffs them in
his coat pockets. The home fans YELL deep and terrific as Holden
surveys the scene like he’s looking for something or someone.
Holden leaps to his feet and scrunches his face, thinking.

Suddenly, he turns his back to the game and takes off on a
sprint down the other side of the hill.
EXT. PENCEY CAMPUS – SAME
Holden runs through the campus of a beautiful East Coast prep

school—-Gothic brick buildings, leafless trees flocked with
snow, paved walkways, holiday wreaths on lampposts. The campus
is empty because of the football game.
He stops at the main gate and catches his breath for a moment,
breathing heavy PUFFS of cold air. He takes off again, this time
across a busy four-lane road (without looking, of course).
Cars HONK and swerve to avoid him. Holden slips on a patch of

ice but doesn’t fall.
EXT. SPENCER HOUSE – SAME
Holden safely reaches the other side of the street and

approaches a modest one-story brick home. He RINGS the doorbell
quickly and repeatedly.
HOLDEN
C’mon, c’mon. Open the door.
Holden bounces from one foot to the other as he waits, his eyes
rolling impatiently. The door cracks open to reveal MRS. SPENCER
(70s) in a housedress and apron. She’s genuinely glad to see
him.
MRS. SPENCER
Holden! How lovely to see you! Come
in, dear. Are you frozen to death?
INT. SPENCER HOUSE - SAME
Mrs. Spencer opens the door wide and Holden brushes past her.
It’s cozy, but the furnishings are those of older people.
HOLDEN
How are you, Mrs. Spencer? How’s
Mr. Spencer?
MRS. SPENCER
Let me take your coat, dear.
As Mrs. Spencer hangs Holden’s coat in a hall closet, he runs

his hand through his crew-cut hair. It’s mostly brown, but on
one side he has nearly all gray hair.
HOLDEN
(loudly)
How’ve you been, Mrs. Spencer?
MRS. SPENCER
I’ve been just fine, Holden. How
have you been?
HOLDEN
Fine. How’s Mr. Spencer? He over
his grippe yet?
MRS. SPENCER
Over it? Holden, he’s behaving like
a perfect—- I don’t know what.
(beat)
He’s in his room, dear. Go right in.
Mrs. Spencer motions down a hallway that leads to the rear of

the house. Holden nods and smiles, a perfect gentleman.
INT. SPENCER HOUSE – MR. SPENCER’S ROOM – CONTINUOUS
The door to Mr. Spencer’s room is half-open and Holden KNOCKS

politely. In a big leather chair in the corner sits MR. SPENCER
(70s) in pajamas. He’s covered by a blanket and reading The
Atlantic Monthly.
MR. SPENCER
(yelling)
Who’s that? Caulfield? Come in, boy.
Holden tentatively steps into the room and sees medicine bottles
on most of the surfaces. Holden’s gaze lingers on Mr. Spencer’s
thin, pasty legs.
HOLDEN
Hello, sir. I got your note. You
didn’t have to do all that. I’d
have come over to say goodbye
anyway.
MR. SPENCER
Have a seat there, boy.
Mr. Spencer motions at the bed across from his chair. Holden
sits, still holding his hunting hat.
HOLDEN
How’s your grippe, sir?
MR. SPENCER
M’boy, if I felt any better I’d
have to send for the doctor.
Mr. Spencer CHUCKLES loudly at his own joke. Holden looks around
the room, already itching to leave.
MR. SPENCER (CONT’D)

Why aren’t you down at the game? I
thought this was the day of the big
game.
HOLDEN
It is. I was. I…
Holden trails off and a moment of silence lingers between them.
MR. SPENCER
So you’re leaving us, eh?
HOLDEN
Yes, sir. I guess I am.
Mr. Spencer nods vigorously.
MR. SPENCER
What did Dr. Thurmer say to you?
I understand you had quite a little
chat.
HOLDEN
Yes, we did. We really did. I was
in his office for around two hours.
MR. SPENCER
What’d he say to you?
HOLDEN
Oh… well, about life being a game
and all. And how you should play it
according to the rules.
MR. SPENCER
Life is a game, boy. Life is a game
that one plays according to the
rules.
HOLDEN
(too sincere)
Yes, sir. I know it is. I know it.
Mr. Spencer COUGHS violently, spitting into a handkerchief.

MR. SPENCER
Has Dr. Thurmer written to your
parents yet?
HOLDEN
He’s going to write them on Monday.
MR. SPENCER
How do you think they’ll take the
news?
HOLDEN
Well… they’ll be pretty irritated
about it. They really will. This is
the fourth school I’ve gone to.
Mr. Spencer starts nodding again. He pretends to pinch his nose,

but Holden can see he’s actually picking it. Holden shifts
uncomfortably on the rock-hard bed.
Mr. Spencer tries to toss his magazine onto the bed next to
Holden, but he misses. Holden retrieves it and lays it down next
to him.
MR. SPENCER
What’s the matter with you, boy?
How many subjects did you carry
this term?
HOLDEN
Five, sir.
MR. SPENCER
Five. And how many did you fail?
HOLDEN
Four.
Holden wiggles from cheek to cheek on the bed.
HOLDEN (CONT’D)
I passed English all right because
I had all that Beowulf and Lord
Randal My Son stuff at Whooton.
I mean I didn’t have to do any work
in English at all hardly, except
write compositions once in a while.
MR. SPENCER
I flunked you in history because
you knew absolutely nothing.
HOLDEN
I know that, sir. Boy, I know it.
You couldn’t help it.
MR. SPENCER
I doubt it very much if you opened
your textbook even once the whole
term. Did you? Tell the truth, boy.
HOLDEN
Well, I sort of glanced through it
a couple of times.
MR. SPENCER
(sarcastic)
You glanced through it, eh?
(beat)
Do you blame me for flunking you?
HOLDEN
No, sir! I certainly don’t.
MR. SPENCER
What would you have done in my
place?
Holden is lost in thought. He wrings his hunting hat in his hands.
MR. SPENCER (CONT’D)

How do you feel about all this,
boy? Do you have any particular
qualms about leaving Pencey?
HOLDEN
Oh, I have a few qualms all right.
Sure… but not too many. Not yet,
anyway.
MR. SPENCER
Do you feel absolutely no concern
for your future?
HOLDEN
Oh, I feel some concern for my
future, all right. Sure. Sure, I do.
(beat)
But not too much, I guess.
MR. SPENCER
You will. When it’s too late.
HOLDEN
I guess I will.
Suddenly, the urge to leave overcomes Holden’s need for closure.

He stands up quickly, knocking Mr. Spencer’s magazine to the
floor again. Holden grabs it and hands it back to his teacher.
HOLDEN (CONT’D)
Look, sir. Don’t worry about me.
I mean it. I’ll be all right. I’m
just going through a phase right
now. Everybody goes through phases
and all, don’t they?
MR. SPENCER
I don’t know, boy. I don’t know.
Holden gently places a reassuring hand on Mr. Spencer’s shoulder.
HOLDEN
Sure. Sure, they do.
(beat)
I mean it, sir. Please don’t worry
about me. Okay?
MR. SPENCER
Would you like a cup of hot
chocolate before you go?
HOLDEN
I would, I really would, but the
thing is, I have to get going.
After a moment’s pause, Holden shakes Mr. Spencer’s hand.
HOLDEN (CONT’D)
Take care of your grippe, now.
MR. SPENCER
Goodbye, Holden.
Holden practically runs from Mr. Spencer’s room, shutting the

door behind him. From behind the door comes a muffled voice:
MR. SPENCER (CONT’D)(O.S.)

Good luck!
Holden rams his hunting hat onto his head. He can’t get out of
the Spencer house quickly enough.
INT. PENCEY DORM – LATER
Holden flies up the steps of his dorm two at a time. At the door
to his room he pauses, looking around the empty hallway. He shakes
his head and mutters to himself.
HOLDEN
(under his breath)
“Good luck.”
He flings the door open and steps into his room.
INT. HOLDEN’S DORM ROOM – SAME
Holden’s side of the room and his roommate’s side are mirror
images of each other: bed, desk, chair, and small chest of
drawers. Holden’s side is relatively neat and tidy, but his
roommate’s is a mess: papers, books, and clothing are strewn
about haphazardly.
Holden takes off his coat and hangs it in his closet, but leaves
the hunting hat on. He grabs a book off his desk and plops down
on his bed, reading.
His room and his neighbors’ are connected by a joint shower, and
before Holden can even finish reading a page the shower curtain
RUSTLES and a pimply face protrudes into the room: Holden’s
neighbor ROBERT ACKLEY (18), very tall and round-shouldered,
with mossy teeth.
Holden doesn’t look up from his book to acknowledge Ackley, who

stands on the shower ledge for a moment before stepping into the
room.
ACKLEY
(disaffected)
Hi.
Holden keeps reading.
HOLDEN
Hi.
Ackley walks slowly around Holden’s room, picking up personal

items from both dressers and examining them briefly before
putting them back down again. Holden tries ignoring him until
Ackley picks up a framed picture of a beautiful girl from
Holden’s dresser. It’s SALLY HAYES (16), whom we’ll meet later.
HOLDEN (CONT’D)
Hey. I’ve read this same sentence
about twenty times since you came
in.
No response.
HOLDEN (CONT’D)
How ‘bout sitting down or something,
Ackley? You’re right in my goddamn
light.
ACKLEY
What the hellya reading?
HOLDEN
Goddamn book.
ACKLEY
Any good?
HOLDEN
This sentence I’m reading is
terrific.
ACKLEY
Your brother still writing?
HOLDEN
Not books anymore, no. He’s
prostituting himself out in
Hollywood.
ACKLEY
(eyes wide)
A prostitute?
Holden SIGHS loudly, annoyed.
HOLDEN
A Hollywood sellout. He’s writing
goddamn movies now.
(beat)
Geez, Ackley kid.
ACKLEY
Don’t call me that. I’m 18 and
you’re only 16. Remember that.
Ackley does another circuit of the room, picking up and putting

down personal belongings. Holden slides way down in his chair
and pulls his hat down over his eyes, pretending he’s blind.
HOLDEN (CONT’D)
(hoarse voice)
I think I’m going blind. Mother
darling, everything’s getting so
dark in here.
ACKLEY
You’re nuts. I swear to God.
HOLDEN
Mother darling, give me your hand.
Holden gropes around in front of him without getting up.
HOLDEN (CONT’D)
Mother darling, why won’t you give
me your hand?
ACKLEY
For Chrissake, grow up.
Holden pulls his hat back up and relaxes, grinning. Ackley sits
down on the arm of Holden’s roommate’s chair and cleans his
fingernails with the end of a match.
ACKLEY (CONT’D)
Where the hellja get that hat? Back
home we wear hats like that to
shoot deer in, for Chrissake.
That’s a deer shooting hat.
HOLDEN
Like hell it is.
Holden closes one eye and makes a pistol out of his finger and
thumb, pointing it directly at Ackley.
HOLDEN (CONT’D)
This is a people shooting hat.
I shoot people in this hat.
ACKLEY
Your folks know you got kicked out
yet?
HOLDEN
Nope.
ACKLEY
Where the hell’s Stradlater at,
anyway?
HOLDEN
(yawning)
Down at the game. He’s got a date.
Ackley scoops a pair of scissors off Holden’s roommate’s desk and

clips a hangnail onto the floor.
HOLDEN (CONT’D)
Cut ‘em over the table, willya?
I don’t feel like walking on your
crumby nails in my bare feet.
ACKLEY
Who’s Stradlater’s date?
HOLDEN
Dunno. Why?
ACKLEY
I can’t stand that sonuvabitch.
HOLDEN
He’s crazy about you. He told me he
thinks you’re a goddamn prince.
ACKLEY
He’s got this superior attitude all
the time. I just can’t stand the
sonuvabitch. You’d think he—-
HOLDEN
Ackley! For Chrissake, I’ve asked
you fifty times to please cut your
crumby nails over a table.
(beat)
You’re sore at Stradlater because
he said that stuff about brushing
your teeth once in a while. He
didn’t mean to insult you, for
cryin’ out loud. All he meant was
you’d look better and feel better
if you sort of brushed your teeth
once in a while.
ACKLEY
(defensive)
I brush my teeth.
HOLDEN
No, you don’t. I’ve seen you, and
you don’t.
(beat)
Stradlater’s all right. He’s not
too bad. You don’t know him, that’s
the trouble.
ACKLEY
I still say he’s a conceited
sonuvabitch.
Just as Ackley finishes denouncing Holden’s roommate, the door

swings open and WARD STRADLATER (18) barges in. Handsome and
broad-shouldered, his cheeks are flushed and snowflakes have

accumulated on his coat.
Ignoring Ackley (who scowls at him), Stradlater steps over to

Holden and gives him a playful slap on each cheek.
STRADLATER
You going out tonight?
HOLDEN
Dunno. I might.
STRADLATER
If you’re not going out anyplace
special, how ‘bout lending me your
hound’s tooth jacket?
HOLDEN
Who won the game?
STRADLATER
It’s halftime. We’re leaving.
(beat)
No kidding, you gonna use your
hound’s tooth tonight or not?
HOLDEN
No, but I don’t want you stretching
it out with your goddamn shoulders.
Stradlater goes over to his closet and hangs up his coat.
STRADLATER
I won’t stretch it.
Finally noticing Ackley, Stradlater smiles at him.
STRADLATER (CONT’D)
How’sa boy, Ackley?
Ackley GRUNTS and goes back to his room. Stradlater strips off his
blazer and tie, tossing them on his bed with the rest of the mess.
I think maybe I’ll have a quick
shave.
HOLDEN
Where’s your date?
STRADLATER
Waiting in the annex.
Stradlater takes off his shirt and leaves the room with his toilet
kit and towel. Holden puts down his book and quickly follows.
INT. WASHROOM – SAME
One side of the tiled washroom is taken up by ten sinks with

fogged-over mirrors above them; the other with five stalls and
five urinals. Stradlater stands at one of the sinks in the
middle, his face covered in foamy shaving cream. He WHISTLES out
of tune as he shaves. Holden sits on the sink next to him,
turning the water on and off. He wears his hunting hat.
Holden looks down at Stradlater’s RAZOR on the sink: it’s rusty

and full of lather and hairs. Holden scrunches up his face,
disgusted.
STRADLATER
Hey, wanna do me a favor?
HOLDEN
What?
STRADLATER
I got about a hundred pages to read
for history for Monday. How ‘bout
writing a composition for me, for
English? I’ll be up the creek if I
don’t get the goddamn thing in by
Monday. How ‘bout it?
HOLDEN
I’m the one that’s flunking out of
the goddamn place, and you’re
asking me to write you a goddamn
composition.
STRADLATER
Yeah I know. Be a buddy. Okay?
HOLDEN
What on?
STRADLATER
Anything. A room. Or a house. Just
as long as it’s descriptive as hell.
Just don’t do it too good, is all.
Don’t stick all the commas and
stuff in the right place.
Holden doesn’t answer. He jumps off the washbowl and does a

terrible imitation of a tap dancer, flailing his arms around.
Stradlater watches him in the mirror, CHUCKLING to himself.
HOLDEN
I’m the governor’s son. He doesn’t
want me to be a tap dancer. He
wants me to go to Oxford. But tap
dancing’s in my goddamn blood.
(out of breath)
It’s the opening night and the
leading man can’t go on. He’s drunk
as a bastard. So who do they get to
take his place? Me, that’s who. The
little ol’ goddamn Governor’s son.
Holden stops his routine and rests his hands on his knees,
catching his breath. Stradlater stops shaving and turns.
STRADLATER
Listen, are ya gonna write that
composition for me?
HOLDEN
If I get the time, I will. If I
don’t I won’t.
Without warning-—he’s not upset at Stradlater, just horsing

around—-Holden leaps onto Stradlater’s back and grabs his
roommate in a half-nelson. Stradlater drops his razor in the
foamy sink.
STRADLATER
Cut it out, Holden, for Chrissake!
You wanna make me cut mygoddamn
head off?
HOLDEN
Liberate yourself from my viselike
grip.
STRADLATER
Jesus Christ.
With one swift motion, Stradlater jerks his arms up and breaks
Holden’s grip. He fishes his razor out of the water and resumes
shaving. Holden sits on the neighboring washbasin.
Now cut out the crap.
HOLDEN
Who’s your date? That Phyllis
Smith babe?
STRADLATER
It was supposed to be, but I got
Bud Thaw’s girl’s roommate now.
(beat)
Hey, I almost forgot. She knows you.
HOLDEN
Yeah? What’s her name?
STRADLATER
I’m thinking. Uh. Jean Gallagher.
Holden jumps up from the sink, incredulous. He paces the washroom,

talking a mile a minute.
HOLDEN
Jane Gallagher. You’re damn right
I know her. She practically lived
right next door to me, the summer
before last. Where is she? I oughta
go down and say hello to her or
something. Where is she? In the
annex?
STRADLATER
Yeah.
HOLDEN
How’d she happen to mention me?
Does she go to B.M. now? She said
she might go there. She said she
might go to Shipley, too. I thought
she went to Shipley. How’d she
happen to mention me?
Stradlater rolls his eyes, sorry he mentioned her. He puts tonic

on his hair and combs it once, twice, three times.
STRADLATER
I don’t know, for Chrissake.
HOLDEN
Jane Gallagher. Jesus H. Christ.
(beat)
She’s a dancer. Ballet and all. She
used to practice about two hours
every day, right in the middle of
the hottest weather and all. She
was worried that it might make her
legs lousy-—all thick and all.
I used to play checkers with her
all the time.
STRADLATER
Checkers, for Chrissake!
HOLDEN
Yeah. What she’d do, when she’d get
a king, she wouldn’t move it. She’d
just leave it in the back row.
She’d get them all lined up and
never use them. She just liked the
way they looked.
Stradlater isn’t listening. He combs his hair again and again.
HOLDEN (CONT’D)
Jane Gallagher. Jesus.
Holden, lost in thought, walks over to the bathroom window, but

it’s fogged over.
HOLDEN (CONT’D)
Did she enoy the game?
STRADLATER
Yeah, I guess so. I don’t know.
HOLDEN
Did she tell you we used to play
checkers all the time?
STRADLATER
For Chrissake, I only just met her.
Stradlater finishes his beauty routine and packs up his toilet

kit. He leaves the bathroom without saying anything as Holden
stares at the fogged-up window.
Holden turns and realizes Stradlater’s gone. He hustles after him.
INT. HOLDEN’S DORM ROOM – CONTINUOUS
Stradlater, with his shirt back on, knots his tie in the mirror.
Holden plops down in his own chair and watches. Ackley is
noticeably absent.
HOLDEN
Listen. Give her my regards,
willya?
STRADLATER
Okay.
HOLDEN
Don’t tell her I got kicked out,
though.
STRADLATER
Okay.
Stradlater puts on Holden’s hound’s tooth jacket and Holden winces

as it stretches over Stradlater’s shoulders.
HOLDEN
Jesus, now, try not to stretch it
all over the place. I’ve only worn
it twice.
STRADLATER
I won’t.
HOLDEN
Where ya going on your date? Ya
Know yet?
STRADLATER
Dunno. New York if we have time.
She only signed out for nine-thirty,
for Chrissake.
HOLDEN
(sarcastic)
She probably didn’t know what a
handsome, charming bastard you are.
If she’d known, she probably
would’ve signed out for nine-thirty
in the morning.
STRADLATER
Goddamn right.
Stradlater winks at Holden as he grabs a pack of cigarettes off

his own desk.
No kidding, now. Do that
composition for me. Don’t knock
yourself out or anything, but make
it descriptive as hell, okay?
Holden doesn’t answer.
HOLDEN
Ask her if she still keeps her
kings in the back row.
STRADLATER
Okay. Take it easy, now.
Stradlater tosses Holden a mock salute as he straightens his tie

and ducks through the door. Holden picks up the book he was reading
earlier, but can’t focus. He looks out the window as huge flakes
of snow fall outside.
SERIES OF SHOTS:
A) Holden goes to his dresser and changes into his pajamas and
bathrobe, keeping the hunting hat on.
B) Holden sits at his desk and loads a sheet of paper into his
typewriter.
C) Holden stares at the blank page.
D) With the window cracked open, Holden smokes a cigarette,

shivering all the while.
E) Holden stares at the blank page again.
INT. HOLDEN’S DORM ROOM – LATER
Holden sits at his desk, reading his book. The paper in the
typewriter is still blank. Suddenly, he gets an idea and digs
into a brand-new leather Gladstone suitcase under his bed. He
pulls out a left-handed baseball glove with poems written all
over it in green ink.
Holden doesn’t put the glove on, but he examines it from every
angle, reading the poems intently.
EXT. BASEBALL FIELD – DAY (FLASHBACK)
A bright summer day. 10- and 11-year-old boys in uniforms and

caps play a little league game. As the bat CRACKS and parents
CHEER, we focus on one boy standing way out in right field. He’s
tallish and skinny, like Holden.
The boy, Holden’s deceased brother ALLIE, reads the poems on his
glove. He then removes his cap, revealing a full head of fiery
red hair. Allie closes his eyes and turns his face to the sun as
the game continues.
INT. HOLDEN’S DORM ROOM – NIGHT
Holden sits on his backward-facing chair, PECKING away at the keys

of his typewriter. He steals glances at the baseball glove on his
desk as he types.
From the hallway, Holden hears Stradlater’s heavy FOOSTEPS. Holden

stops typing and turns his head toward the door. Stradlater bursts
through the door, shaking off his coat.
STRADLATER
Where is everybody? It’s a goddamn
morgue around here.
Stradlater hangs Holden’s coat in his closet and undresses, tossing

his clothes on his bed. Holden watches him, suspicious.
Didja write that goddamn
composition for me?
Wordlessly, Holden rips the paper from his typewriter and hands it
to his roommate. Stradlater holds the paper with one hand and
strokes his bare chest and stomach with the other.
For Chrissake, Holden. This is
about a goddamn baseball glove.
HOLDEN
(coldly)
So what?
STRADLATER
Wuddaya mean so what? I told ya it
had to be about a goddamn room or a
house or something.
HOLDEN
You said it had to be descriptive.
What the hell’s the difference if
it’s about a baseball glove?
STRADLATER
(furious)
Goddamn it. You do everything
backasswards. No wonder you’re
flunking the hell out of here. You
don’t do one damn thing the way
you’re supposed to.
HOLDEN
All right, give it back to me, then.
Holden jumps up from his seat and grabs the composition from
Stradlater. He holds it in front of his roommate and tears the
paper into little pieces.
STRADLATER
What the hellja do that for?
Holden doesn’t answer. He throws the pieces in the wastebasket and

lies down on his bed, smoking a cigarette. Quietly fuming,
Stradlater finishes undressing and is down to his boxer shorts.
HOLDEN
Did you go to New York?
STRADLATER
How the hell could we go to New
York if she only signed out for
nine-thirty?
Holden shrugs.
Listen, if you’re gonna smoke, how
‘bout going down to the can and do
it? You may be getting the hell out
of here, but I have to stick around
long enough to graduate.
Holden keeps smoking. Stradlater sits in his chair and clips his
toenails, just like Ackley did earlier.
HOLDEN
Did you give her my regards?
STRADLATER
Yeah.
HOLDEN
What’d she say? Did you ask her if
she still keeps her kings in the
back row?
STRADLATER
No, I didn’t ask her. What the hell
ya think we did all night—-play
checkers, for Chrissake?
Holden starts visibly shaking. He’s angry. If Stradlater did

anything to Jane…
HOLDEN
(a little shaky)
If you didn’t go to New York,
where’d ya go with her?
Stradlater gets up and walks over to Holden’s bed, playfully

punching him in the shoulder.
STRADLATER
Nowhere. We just sat in the goddamn
car.
HOLDEN
What’d you do? Give her the time in
the goddamn car?
Stradlater picks up his toilet kit and puts his toothbrush in his
mouth.
STRADLATER
What a thing to say. Want me to
wash your mouth out with soap?
HOLDEN
Did you?
STRADLATER
That’s a professional secret, buddy.
Holden leaps up from his bed and throws a wild roundhouse punch.
Stradlater moves to the side and Holden’s fist connects with
Stradlater’s left ear.
The roommates stare at each other for a moment. Stradlater quickly

grabs Holden’s wrists and tosses him to the floor like a rag doll.
Stradlater’s knees pin Holden’s chest down and Stradlater’s hands
tie Holden’s wrists to the floor. Holden puts up a weak struggle.
Stradlater’s face is burning red.
STRADLATER
What the hell’s the matter with you?
Huh?
HOLDEN
(almost bawling)
Get your lousy knees off my chest.
Go on, get offa me, ya crumby
bastard.
STRADLATER
What the hell’s the matter with you?
HOLDEN
You don’t even care if a girl
keeps her kings in the back row or
not because you’re a goddamn stupid
moron.
STRADLATER
Shut up now, Holden. Just shut up.
HOLDEN
You don’t even know if her first
name is Jane or Jean, ya goddamn
moron.
STRADLATER
Shut up, Holden, Goddamn it. I’m
warning ya. If you don’t shut up,
I’m gonna slam ya one.
HOLDEN
Get your dirty stinking moron knees
off my chest.
Stradlater relaxes his grip but doesn’t let go.
STRADLATER
If I letcha up, will you keep your
mouth shut?
No answer.
Holden. If I letcha up, willya keep
your mouth shut?
HOLDEN
(reluctantly)
Yes.
Stradlater lets go of Holden’s wrists and slowly stands up. He

stands over Holden and offers him a hand. Holden refuses and
gets up on his own. Stradlater rubs the ear that Holden punched.
HOLDEN (CONT’D)
You’re a dirty stupid sonuvabitch
of a moron.
Holden doesn’t even see the punch coming--Stradlater lays him

out with one shot. Blood streams from Holden’s nose onto his
pajamas and the linoleum floor.
Stradlater picks up his toothbrush and towers over Holden

menacingly.
STRADLATER
You asked for it, Goddamnit.
Holden BAWLS as he lays on the floor.
HOLDEN
(under his breath)
Dirty moron sonuvabitch.
STRADLATER
Go wash your face. Ya hear me?
HOLDEN
Go wash your own moron face.
Stradlater EXHALES a loud breath and stomps off to the bathroom.

Holden waits until he hears the bathroom door SLAM to sit up. He
spies his hunting hat under the bed and puts in on.
Holden stands and turns the hat around backward, staring at himself
in the mirror. He has blood all over his mouth, chin, pajamas, and
bathrobe. He’s a mess, but as he stands in the mirror he raises
his shoulders and makes a tough-guy face.
Holden leans through the shower and stage-whispers to his neighbor.
HOLDEN (CONT’D)
Ackley.
(beat)
Hey, Ackley!
No response.
HOLDEN (CONT’D)
Hey, Ackley!
ACKLEY (O.S.)
(groggy)
What the hell’s the matter? I was
asleep, for Chrissake.
Holden smiles to himself and crosses through the shower into

Ackley’s room.
INT. ACKLEY’S DORM ROOM – NIGHT
Ackley’s darkened dorm room is set up just like Holden’s. Ackley

sleeps in the bed on Stradlater’s side of the room. Holden saunters
into the room and leans on Ackley’s neighbor’s bed while Ackley
faces the wall, trying to ignore Holden.
HOLDEN
Listen. What’s the routine on
joining a monastery? Do you have
to be a Catholic and all?
ACKLEY
Of course you have to be a Catholic.
You bastard, did you wake me just
to ask me a dumb ques—-
HOLDEN
Ah, go back to sleep. I’m not gonna
join one anyway. The kind of luck I
have, I’d probably join one with
all the wrong kind of monks in it.
All stupid bastards.
Through the shower Holden hears Stradlater SLAM the door to

their room. As Stradlater puts away his toiletries, Ackley sits
up quickly.
ACKLEY
Listen. I don’t care what you say
about me or anything, but if you
start making cracks about my
goddamn religion, for Chrissake—-
HOLDEN
Relax. Nobody’s making cracks about
your goddamn religion.
The lights in Holden’s room go out. He gets up off the bed and
starts toward the door, but stops. He picks up Ackley’s hand and
gives him a big, showy handshake. Ackley pulls his hand away.
ACKLEY
What’s the idea?
HOLDEN
Nothing. Just want to thank you for
being such a goddamn price, that’s
all. You’re aces, Ackley kid. You
know that?
Ackley lies back down and pulls the covers up. Holden opens the
door and steps into the hallway.
ACKLEY
Wise guy. Someday somebody’s gonna
bash your head in.
INT. HOLDEN’S DORM – HALLWAY – SAME
Holden, still with blood all over his face and pajamas, steps
into the quiet, empty hallway. He looks up and down the hall,
but there’s nobody there. He spies an empty toothpaste box a few
doors down. Taking a few steps in his slippers, Holden gives it
a kick, and the box slides further down the hall.
INT. HOLDEN’S DORM ROOM – SAME
Holden goes back into his own room and flicks the light on.
Stradlater sleeps facing the wall.
Holden strips off his bathrobe and pajamas, dressing in pants

and a button-down shirt. He cleans the blood off his face and
lights a cigarette. His Gladstones are already half-packed, and
Holden tosses in a few more items, most notably the picture of
Sally and Allie’s baseball glove.
As he packs, Holden sees a pair of brand-new hockey skates under

his bed. He moves to put them in with his belongings, but thinks
better of it and leaves them under the bed.
His bags packed, Holden lays out a spread of cash on the bed and
counts it, a decent wad. He stuffs the bills in his pocket and
picks up his suitcases, taking a long look around—-his desk, the
window with snowflakes falling quickly, and Stradlater, SNORING.
Holden nods again and leaves his room, flicking the light off as
he steps through the door.
INT. HOLDEN’S DORM – HALLWAY – SAME
Holden stands at the top of the stairs, looking up and down the
hallway one last time. A tear escapes his eye. He puts his
hunting hat on and turns it around backward. He takes a deep
breath and YELLS down the corridor—-
HOLDEN
Sleep tight, ya morons!
EXT. STREET – NIGHT
Holden trudges through the snow and ice to the train station.
His suitcases bang against his legs. He winces as the cold hits
his busted nose and lip.
INT. TRAIN – NIGHT
Holden sits in an empty passenger car, his suitcases on the rack

above him. He takes off his hunting hat and stuffs it in his
pocket, running his hand through his brush-cut hair.
A good-looking woman, MRS. MORROW (40s) boards the train and

takes a seat across the aisle from Holden. She’s dressed up like
she’s just been to a party. Holden nods to her but doesn’t say
anything. Mrs. Morrow looks above Holden and sees a PENCEY
STICKER on one of his Gladstones.
MRS. MORROW
Excuse me, but isn’t that a Pencey
Prep sticker?
HOLDEN
(embarrassed)
Yes, it is.
MRS. MORROW
Oh, how lovely! Perhaps you know my
son, Ernest Morrow? He goes to
Pencey.
Holden SNORTS quietly, but faces Mrs. Morrow with his best smile.
HOLDEN
Yes, I do. He’s in my class.
MRS. MORROW
Oh, how nice! I must tell Ernest we
met. May I ask your name, dear?
HOLDEN
Rudolf Schmidt.
MRS. MORROW
Do you like Pencey?
HOLDEN
Pencey? It’s not too bad. It’s not
paradise or anything, but it’s as
good as most schools.
MRS. MORROW
Ernest just adores it.
Holden pulls a pack of cigarettes from his coat pocket and puts
one in his mouth, then offers her one from the pack.
MRS. MORROW
I don’t believe this is a smoking
car, Rudolf.
HOLDEN
That’s all right. We can smoke till
they start screaming at us.
With a girlish GIGGLE, Mrs. Morrow takes a cigarette from Holden’s

pack. He lights both and watches her smoke. He looks her up and
down, taking in her uncovered legs. When he looks back at her face,
she’s looking at him sort of funny.
MRS. MORROW
I believe your nose is bleeding,
dear.
Holden nods and takes out his handkerchief, touching it gently

against his nose and lip.
HOLDEN
I got hit with a snowball. One of
those very icy ones.
The CONDUCTOR, a man in his 50s, enters the car and punches their
tickets. He doesn’t mention their smoking. Holden turns to Mrs.
Morrow with a charming smile.
HOLDEN (CONT’D)
Would you care for a cocktail?
MRS. MORROW
Dear, are you allowed to order
drinks?
HOLDEN
Well, no, not exactly, but I can
usually get them on account of my
height. And I have quite a bit of
gray hair.
(beat)
C’mon, join me, why don’t you?
MRS. MORROW
I really don’t think I’d better.
Anyway, the club car’s most likely
closed. It’s quite late, you know.
Holden looks at his watch and nods. He finishes his cigarette and
stubs it out in the armrest ashtray.
MRS. MORROW (CONT’D)

Ernest wrote me that he’d be home
on Wednesday. I hope you weren’t
called home suddenly because of an
illness in your family.
HOLDEN
No, everybody’s fine at home. It’s
me. I have to have this operation.
Mrs. Morrow reaches across the aisle and places a hand on Holden’s
arm.
MRS. MORROW
Oh! I’m so sorry.
HOLDEN
It isn’t very serious. I have this
tiny little tumor on my brain.
MRS. MORROW
Oh, no!
HOLDEN
I’ll be all right. It’s right near
the outside. And it’s a very tiny
one. They can take it out in about
two minutes.
Mrs. Morrow nods her assent, but she’s still worried about him. In
an effort to stop lying, Holden pulls out the train’s timetable
and reads it. Mrs. Morrow reads an issue of Vogue.
INT. TRAIN – LATER
The train pulls into a station and Mrs. Morrow stands. She looks
down at Holden and smiles benevolently, motherly.
MRS. MORROW
Good luck with your operation,
Rudolf.
HOLDEN
Thank you, ma’am.
MRS. MORROW
You should visit us this summer. We
have a place in Massachusetts, on
the Cape. The house is right on the
beach, with a tennis court and—-
HOLDEN
I appreciate the offer, ma’am,
but I’m going to South America
with my grandmother. Really,
thanks though.
Mrs. Morrow smiles at Holden again as she departs the train. Holden
rolls his eyes and lights another cigarette as the train lurches
back into motion.
INT. GRAND CENTRAL STATION – NIGHT
Holden lugs his suitcases up a staircase into a mostly deserted

Grand Central Station. A janitor pushes a broom and a bum sleeps
on a bench.
Holden makes a beeline for a row of phone booths against one

wall. He crams his suitcases in with him and deposits a quarter.
He cradles the handset on his shoulder and moves his pointer

finger to dial, but he pauses. He can’t think of anyone to call.
Holden lingers in the booth for a moment, then steps out,
BANGING his Gladstones against the doors.
EXT. GRAND CENTRAL STATION – NIGHT
The New York streets are mostly empty, and Holden escapes the
blustery, blowing cold by hopping in a waiting cab.
INT. CAB – NIGHT
Holden sits in the back seat with his suitcases on either side
of him. He rubs his hands together and blows into them.
The CABBIE (30s) looks as though he’s been driving all night and
just wants to go home. He listens to music on the RADIO as he
drives uptown.
CABBIE
All right, buddy. Where to?
Holden leans forward.

HOLDEN
Do you happen to know whose band’s
at the Taft or the New Yorker, by
any chance?
CABBIE
No idea’r, Mac.
HOLDEN
Well, take me to the Edmont, then.
Would you care to stop on the way
and join me for a cocktail? On me.
CABBIE
Can’t do it, Mac. Sorry.
Holden sits back for a second, then instantly leans forward again.
HOLDEN
Hey, listen. You know those ducks
in that lagoon right near Central
Park South? That little lake?
CABBIE
The ducks?
HOLDEN
Yeah. By any chance, do you know
where they go, the ducks, when it
gets all frozen over?
The cabbie stops at a red light and turns around, looking at Holden
like he was a madman.
CABBIE
What’re ya tryna do, bud? Kid me?
HOLDEN
No. I was just interested, that’s
all.
The cabbie puts the car in gear and hurries forward again.
Holden Holden sits back, chastened, and watches side streets
blur by outside.
EXT. EDMONT HOTEL – NIGHT
Holden exits the cab and SLAMS the door as it PEELS away. He
looks up at the Edmont (really the Biltmore) and its two 25-
story towers. He lugs his own bags through the doors.
INT. EDMONT HOTEL ROOM – LATER
Holden is ushered into a 12th floor room by a BELL BOY in his 60s
with a bad comb-over. The room has a double bed, a dresser with
a mirror, a nightstand with telephone, and a bathroom off to one
side. Holden tips the bell boy, then flops down on the bed. He
lies back and stares at the ceiling.
Holden sits up and peels back the curtains and stares out the
window, but all he can see is the hotel’s other tower. He
watches his neighbors…
SERIES OF SHOTS:
A) An older, distinguished-looking man puts on women’s silk

stockings, high heels, brassiere, and a corset with straps, then
a very tight black evening dress.
B) A couple in their 30s in various stages of undress take

turns sipping from their highball glasses and squirting water
out of their mouths at each other, laughing hysterically.
BACK TO SCENE
Holden closes the curtains and yanks open his suitcases, pulling
out a clean shirt. He changes quickly and runs a handful of
water through his hair to no effect.
INT. EDMONT HOTEL ELEVATOR – LATER
Holden rides the elevator down. The elevator operator (MAURICE,

who we’ll meet later) is an overweight, late-30s slob. He eyes
Holden, sizing him up as a sucker.
INT. EDMONT HOTEL BAR – LATER
Holden wanders through the hotel lobby and into the bar, which
is about half-full. There’s an eight-piece big band on stage
playing very brassy arrangements with a corny LOUNGE SINGER

fronting the band.
The maître’d ushers Holden to a table way in the back even

though there are plenty of empty tables closer to the band.
Holden eyes the crowd as he passes: “older, show-offy-looking
guys with their dates.”
Holden sits and notices three women in their 20s at the table
next to him. None are particularly attractive, but there’s a
BLONDE who’s on the cute side. Holden gives her his best smolder
but is interrupted by his waiter.
HOLDEN
(too quickly)
Scotch and soda. And don’t mix it.
WAITER
I’m sorry, sir, but do you have
some verification of your age?
Your driver’s license, perhaps?
Holden fixes the waiter with a cold, insulted stare.
HOLDEN
Do I look like I’m under 21?
WAITER
I’m sorry, sir, but we have our—-
HOLDEN
Okay, okay. Bring me a Coke.
The waiter turns to go, but Holden calls him back.
HOLDEN (CONT’D)
Can’tcha stick a little rum in it?
I can’t sit in a corny place like
this cold sober.
WAITER
I’m very sorry, sir.
As the waiter departs, Holden fixes his gaze on the three girls.
They catch his glance and GIGGLE. He leans over so they can hear
him.
HOLDEN
Would any of you girls care to
dance?
The girls GIGGLE again, covering their mouths with their hands.
HOLDEN (CONT’D)
C’mon, I’ll dance with you one at a
time. How ‘bout it?
The girls WHISPER to each other for a moment and the blonde stands,
offering her hand to Holden. He smiles. As Holden leads her to the
dance floor, the other two girls erupt with LAUGHTER.
The band plays a waltz, and even though he’s a full head taller,
Holden leads the blonde all over the dance floor.
HOLDEN (CONT’D)
You really can dance. You oughta be
a pro. I mean it. I danced with a
pro once, and you’re twice as good
as she was.
The blonde isn’t listening, though. She keeps scanning the crowd.
BLONDE
What?
HOLDEN
You know when a girl’s really a
terrific dancer?
BLONDE
Huh? Wudja say?
HOLDEN
Well, where I have my hand on your
back. If I think there isn’t
anything underneath my hand—-no can,
no legs, no feet, no anything-—then
the girl’s really a terrific dancer.
BLONDE
I and my girl friends saw Peter
Lorre last night. The movie actor.
In person. He was buyin’ a
newspaper. He’s cute.
HOLDEN
You’re lucky. You’re really lucky.
You know that?
Apropos of nothing, Holden bends down and kisses the top of the
blonde’s head. She pushes him away for a second, but recouples
instantly afterward-—she doesn’t want to make a scene.
BLONDE
Hey! What’s the idea?
HOLDEN
Nothing. No idea. You really can
dance. I have a kid sister that’s
only in the goddamn fourth grade.
You’re about as good as she is, and
she can dance better than anybody,
living or dead.
BLONDE
Watch your language, if you don’t
mind.
HOLDEN
Where you girls from?
No answer.
HOLDEN (CONT’D)
Where you girls from?
BLONDE
What?
HOLDEN
Where you girls from? Don’t answer
if you don’t feel like it. I don’t
want you to strain yourself.
BLONDE
Seattle, Washington.
HOLDEN
You’re a great conversationalist.
You know that?
BLONDE
How old are you, anyway?
HOLDEN
Oh, Christ. I’m twelve, for
Chrissake. I’m big for my age.
BLONDE
Listen. I toleja about that. I don’t
like that type of language. If
you’re gonna use that language, I
can go sit down with my friends.
HOLDEN
Sorry. I’m really sorry, honest.
Holden lets it drop. The band launches into a fast-paced swing

tune and they start jitterbugging. After the song is over, she
drags Holden back to the table.
SERIES OF SHOTS:
A) Holden dances with the other two girls, one at a time. They
behave like the blonde, looking all around the bar for
celebrities. The other two girls at the table GIGGLE and LAUGH
the whole time.
B) Holden sits at the table with the three girls. The waiter
brings them all drinks. Holden pays.
C) The girls get up to leave. The blonde blows Holden a kiss,

but it’s a formality.
D) Holden and the waiter argue over the bill. Holden

reluctantly pays for all the girls’ drinks.
INT. EDMONT HOTEL LOBBY – LATER
Holden walks past the band packing up its instruments and plops
down in a vomit-green chair in the lobby.
INT. MAINE VACATION HOUSE – DAY (FLASHBACK)
The screened-in porch of a white lakeside cottage. RAIN pours

down outside. 13-year-old Holden plays checkers with 13-year-old
JANE GALLAGHER (natural, beautiful). Jane’s back row is lined

with kings.
The screen door swings open and Jane’s drunken, unshaven

STEPFATHER (40s) staggers out with a can of beer in his hand.
STEPFATHER
Jane, where’re the cigarettes?
She doesn’t answer.
STEPFATHER
(louder)
You dunno where the cigarettes are?
Again, Jane doesn’t answer. She stares at the checkerboard. Her

stepfather GRUMBLES under his breath and SLAMS the screen door as
he goes back inside the cottage.
HOLDEN
What the hell was that about?
Jane won’t answer Holden. A single tear falls from her eye and
lands on one of the red squares on the checkerboard. Jane rubs
it into the board with her finger.
BACK TO SCENE
As Holden jumps up from the chair and walks across the lobby.
EXT. EDMONT HOTEL – NIGHT
Holden goes through the door and is hit with a blast of icy
wind. He’s not wearing his coat and he shivers, but he likes the
cold-—it wakes him up a bit. Holden turns to the doorman.
HOLDEN
Hey, you ever pass by the lagoon in
Central Park?
DOORMAN
The what?
HOLDEN
The lagoon. That little lake. Where
the ducks are. You know.
DOORMAN
Yeah, what about it?
HOLDEN
Well, you know the ducks that swim
around in it?Do you happen to know
where they go in the wintertime,
by any chance?
DOORMAN
Where who goes?
HOLDEN
The ducks. I mean does somebody
come around in a truck and take
them away, or do they fly away by
themselves? Go south or something?
DOORMAN
How the hell should I know? How the
hell should I now a stupid thing
like that?
Holden puts up his hands defensively.
HOLDEN
Well, don’t get sore about it.
DOORMAN
Who’s sore? Nobody’s sore.
(beat)
The fish don’t go no place. They
stay right in the goddamn lake.
HOLDEN
The fish, that’s different. I’m
talking about the ducks.
DOORMAN
What’s different about it? It’s
tougher for the fish, the winter
and all, than it is for the ducks.
Use your head, for Chrissake.
Holden and the doorman turn away from each other. The doorman
MUMBLES something under his breath. Holden shivers.
HOLDEN
All right. What do they do, the
fish and all, when that whole
lake’s a solid block of ice, with
people skating on it and all?
The doorman turns back to Holden.
DOORMAN
What the hellya mean what do they
do? They stay right where they are,
for Chrissake.
HOLDEN
They can’t ignore the ice. They
can’t just ignore it!
DOORMAN
(irate)
Who’s ignoring it? Nobody’s
ignoring it! They live right in the
goddamn ice. It’s their nature, for
Chrissake. They get frozen in one
position for the whole winter.
HOLDEN
Yeah? What do they eat, then? I
mean if they’re frozen solid, they
can’t swim around looking for food
and all.
DOORMAN
What’sa matter with ya? Their
bodies take in nutrition right
through the goddamn seaweed and
crap that’s in the ice. That’s
their nature, for chrissake. See
what I mean?
HOLDEN
Oh.
Holden lets the matter drop. The doorman CURSES under his breath
and turns away. Holden blows into his hands and looks up and down
the street like he’s waiting for someone. When he moves to go back
inside, the doorman rolls his eyes and reluctantly opens the door.
DOORMAN
Listen. If you was a fish, Mother
Nature’d take care of you, wouldn’t
she? Right?
HOLDEN
But-—
DOORMAN
You don’t think them fish just die
when it gets to be winter, do ya?
HOLDEN
No, but—-
DOORMAN
You’re goddamn right they don’t.
Holden doesn’t argue as he slips through the door and into the
lobby.
INT. EDMONT HOTEL LOBBY – SAME
Holden shuffles through the empty lobby. He’s not all that sleepy,
but he has nowhere else to go.
INT. EDMONT HOTEL ELEVATOR – SAME
Maurice (the elevator operator from earlier) flashes a

disgusting, lecherous grin as Holden steps into the car. The
elevator doors GRIND closed.
MAURICE
What floor, pal?
HOLDEN
Twelve, please.
A moment of silence passes as Maurice sets the elevator in motion.
MAURICE
Innarested in having a good time,
fella? Or is it too late for you?
HOLDEN
(stymied)
What do you mean?
Maurice elbows Holden in the ribs.
MAURICE
Innarested in a little tail tonight?
HOLDEN
Me?
MAURICE
How old are you, chief?
HOLDEN
Twenty-two.
MAURICE
Uh-huh. Well, how ‘bout it?
Y’innarested? Five bucks a throw.
Fifteen bucks the whole night.
Maurice looks at his watch, nearly hidden in a thick swath of dark

arm hair.
MAURICE (CONT’D)
Till noon. Five bucks a throw,
Fifteen bucks till noon.
It’s clear that this is against Holden’s principles, but he doesn’t

even think about it.
HOLDEN
Okay.
MAURICE
Okay what? A throw, or till noon?
HOLDEN
Just… just a throw.
MAURICE
Okay, what room ya in?
Holden takes the key from his pocket and inspects the red dangling
key tag.
HOLDEN
Twelve-twenty-two.
MAURICE
Okay. I’ll send up a girl in about
fifteen minutes.
Maurice GRINDS the doors back open and Holden steps out, into the
hallway.
HOLDEN
Hey, is she good-looking? I don’t
want any old bag.
MAURICE
No old bag. Don’t worry about it,
chief.
HOLDEN
Who do I pay?
MAURICE
Her.
Maurice shuts the elevator doors right in Holden’s face, leaving

him standing alone in the hallway.
Holden holds his hand in front of his mouth to see if his breath
stinks. He brushes his teeth. He puts on another clean shirt. He
nervously paces the room.
A KNOCK on the door startles Holden and he takes a deep calming

breath, but it doesn’t work. He strides to the door and trips
over his suitcase, nearly stumbling into the door.
He regains his composure and opens the door as suavely as

possible. Standing in the doorway is SUNNY (16), a thin bottle-
blonde in a man’s polo coat. She’s trying just as hard as Holden
to appear nonchalant and much older than she is.
HOLDEN
How do you do?
Sunny double-checks the number on the door.
SUNNY
You the guy Maurice said?
HOLDEN
Is he the elevator guy?
SUNNY
Yeah.
HOLDEN
Yes, I am. Come in, won’t you?
Holden gestures with a sweep of his arm. Sunny takes off her
coat and chucks it on the bed, revealing a short green dress.
She sits down sideways on the desk chair, crosses her legs, and
jiggles one foot up and down. Holden sits on the bed opposite
Sunny and offers her a cigarette.
SUNNY
(quietly)
I don’t smoke.
HOLDEN
Allow me to introduce myself. My
name is Jim Steele.
SUNNY
How old are you, anyways?
HOLDEN
Me? Twenty-two.
SUNNY
Like fun you are.
HOLDEN
How old are you?
SUNNY
Old enough to know better.
Sunny stands and pulls her dress over her head and tosses it on
the floor. She thinks she’s eyeing Holden seductively, but it’s
just depressing.
HOLDEN
(nervous)
What’s your name?
SUNNY
Sunny.
(beat)
Well, let’s go.
Sunny steps toward Holden, standing between his legs.
HOLDEN
Don’t you feel like talking for a
while? Are you in a very big hurry?
SUNNY
What the heck ya wanna talk about?
Holden tries backing away from her, but there’s nowhere to go but
onto the bed.
HOLDEN
I don’t know. Nothing special. I
just thought perhaps you might want
to chat for a while.
Sunny grabs her dress off the bed.
SUNNY
Ya got a hanger? I don’t want to
get my dress all wrinkly.
Holden leaps to his feet and hangs her dress in the closet. It’s
all alone in there, and he stares at it for a moment before
sitting down on the bed again. Sunny wanders around the room,
inspecting the room service menu.
HOLDEN
Do you work every night?
SUNNY
Yeah.
HOLDEN
What do you do during the day?
SUNNY
Sleep. Go to a show.
She puts down the menu and gives Holden a hard look.
SUNNY (CONT’D)
Let’s go, hey. I haven’t got all--
HOLDEN
Look, I don’t feel very much like
myself tonight. I’ve had a rough
night. Honest to God. I’ll pay you
and all, but do you mind very much
if we don’t do it?
Sunny looks at him in disbelief.
SUNNY
What’sa matter?
HOLDEN
(nervous)
Nothing. The thing is, I had an
operation very recently.
SUNNY
(not buying it)
Yeah? Where?
HOLDEN
On my wuddayacallit… my clavichord.
SUNNY
Yeah? Where the hell’s that?
Holden grabs the back of his neck and moves his hand to his lower
back as his excuse gets worse.
HOLDEN
The clavichord? Well, actually,
it’s way down in the spinal canal.
SUNNY
Yeah? That’s cute.
Sunny sits seductively in Holden’s lap and touches his face.
SUNNY (CONT’D)
You’re cute.
HOLDEN
I’m still recuperating.
SUNNY
You look like a guy in the movies.
You know who I mean. What the
heck’s his name?
HOLDEN
I don’t know. I hate the movies.
Sunny starts kissing Holden’s neck and reaching for his crotch. He
pulls her hand away.
HOLDEN (CONT’D)
Do you mind cutting it out? I’m not
in the mood, I just told you.
I just had an operation.
Sunny stays on Holden’s lap but gives him a terrifically dirty

look.
SUNNY
Listen, I was sleepin’ when Maurice
woke me up. If you think I’m--
HOLDEN
I said I’d pay you and all. I
really will. I have plenty of dough.
SUNNY
What the heck did you tell Maurice
you wanted a girl for, then? If
you just had an operation on
your goddamn wuddayacallit. Huh?
HOLDEN
I thought I’d be feeling a lot
better than I do. No kidding. I’m
sorry. If you’ll just get up a
second, I’ll get my wallet.
Sunny is upset, but she climbs off Holden’s lap. He grabs his
wallet off the dresser and hands her a five-dollar bill.
HOLDEN (CONT’D)
Thanks a lot. Thanks a million.
SUNNY
This is a five. It costs ten.
HOLDEN
Maurice said five. He said fifteen
till noon and only five for a throw.
SUNNY
Ten for a throw.
HOLDEN
He said five. I’m sorry, but that’s
all I’m gonna shell out.
Sunny shrugs her shoulders and motions toward the closet.
SUNNY
(sarcastic)
Do you mind getting me my frock?
Or would it be too much trouble?
Holden quickly grabs her dress and she wordlessly throws it on,
followed by her polo coat. Sunny swings the door wide open and
turns to Holden as she leaves.
SUNNY (CONT’D)
So long, crumb-bum.
HOLDEN
So long.
Sunny SLAMS the door behind her and Holden EXHALES a deep breath
as he sinks back onto the bed.
The lights are off and Holden lays in bed in his pajamas, smoking
a cigarette. The ashtray on the nightstand is nearly full, and the
first rays of dawn are beginning to peek through the window.
A loud, repetitive KNOCKING at his door startles Holden. He quickly

sits up in bed.
HOLDEN
Who’s there?
No answer. A louder KNOCK.
Holden reluctantly gets out of bed and tiptoes to the door. He’s
terrified, but he swings the door open. Maurice stands in the
doorway, his elevator coat unbuttoned and his fat, hairy stomach
hanging over his belt. Sunny stands behind him, staring at the
floor.
HOLDEN (CONT’D)
What’s the matter? Wuddya want?
MAURICE
Nothin’ much. Just five bucks.
HOLDEN
(voice shaking)
I paid her already. I gave her five
bucks. Ask her.
MAURICE
It’s ten bucks, chief. I tole ya
that. Ten bucks for a throw, fifteen
bucks till noon. I tole ya that.
HOLDEN
You said five bucks a throw. You
said fifteen bucks till noon, all
right, but I distinctly heard you—-
Maurice puts a hand on the door but Holden sticks his foot out,
stopping it from opening further.
MAURICE
Open up, chief.
HOLDEN
What for?
Maurice pushes the door open and shoves Holden backward. Maurice
and Sunny walk into the room like they own the place. Sunny sits
on the windowsill and Maurice sits in the chair.
MAURICE
All right, chief. Let’s have it.
I gotta get back to work.
HOLDEN
I told you about ten times, I don’t
owe you a cent. I already gave her
the five—-
MAURICE
(stern)
Cut the crap. Let’s have it.
HOLDEN
(voice cracking)
Why should I give her another five
bucks? You’re trying to chisel me.
MAURICE
Nobody’s tryna chisel nobody. Let’s
have it, chief.
HOLDEN
No.
Maurice stands up and walks toward Holden, who stands with his
arms folded defiantly. They stand toe-to-toe.
MAURICE
Chief, you’re gonna force me inna
roughin’ ya up a little bit. I don’t
wanna do it, but that’s the way it
looks. You owe us five bucks.
HOLDEN
I don’t owe you five bucks. If you
rough me up, I’ll yell like hell.
I’ll wake up everybody in the hotel.
MAURICE
Go ahead. Want your parents to know
you spent the night with a whore?
High-class kid like you?
HOLDEN
If you’d said ten, it’d be
different. But you distinctly—-
MAURICE
Are you gonna let us have it?
HOLDEN
Leave me alone. Get the hell out of
my room.
From the other side of the room, Sunny holds out Holden’s wallet.
SUNNY
Hey, Maurice.
HOLDEN
Leave my wallet alone!
SUNNY
I awreddy got it.
Sunny takes a five-dollar bill out of Holden’s wallet and waves

it at him. She tosses the wallet back on the dresser.
SUNNY (CONT’D)
See? All I’m takin’ is the five you
owe me. I’m no crook.
Holden can’t hold back his tears any more. He wipes them away
with the sleeve of his pajamas.
HOLDEN
No, you’re no crooks. You’re just
stealing five—-
MAURICE
Shut up.
Maurice shoves Holden backward. Sunny steps closer to Maurice

but won’t touch him.
SUNNY
Leave him alone, C’mon, hey. We
got the dough he owes us. Let’s go.
MAURICE
I’m comin’.
But Maurice doesn’t move. He stares daggers at Holden.
SUNNY
I mean it, Maurice. Leave him alone.
MAURICE
(innocently)
Who’s hurtin’ anybody?
Maurice quickly FLICKS Holden in the crotch.
HOLDEN
You goddamn dirty moron!
Maurice advances on Holden. The older man has his hand behind
his ear.
MAURICE
What’s that? What am I?
HOLDEN
(through tears)
You’re a dirty moron. You’re a
stupid chiseling moron, and in
about ten years you’ll be one of
those scraggy guys that come up to
you on the street and ask for a
dime. You’ll have snot all over
your filthy overcoat and you’ll be—-
Maurice PUNCHES Holden in the stomach, sending him to the floor,

doubled over. Holden watches as Maurice and Sunny leave,
shutting the door behind them.
FADE TO BLACK.
INT. EDMONT HOTEL ROOM – MORNING
Holden lounges in bed, smoking a cigarette. He picks up the

phone and the room service menu, but thinks better of it.
Instead, he pulls a folded-up photograph from his wallet on the
nightstand—-it’s Sally Hayes, the picture that Holden had on
display in his room at Pencey.
The phone RINGS a handful of times before Sally picks up.
SALLY (V.O.)
Hello?
Holden sits up in bed, eager.
HOLDEN
Sally?
SALLY (V.O.)
Yes—-who is this?
HOLDEN
Holden Caulfield. How the hell are
ya?
SALLY (V.O.)
Holden! I’m fine! How are you?
HOLDEN
Swell. How’s school?
SALLY (V.O.)
Fine.
(beat)
I mean—-you know.
HOLDEN
Listen. I was wondering if you were
busy today. It’s Sunday, but
there’s always one or two matinees
on Sunday. Wanna go?
SALLY (V.O.)
I’d love to. Grand.
Holden rolls his eyes at “grand.”
HOLDEN
Swell. Meet me under the clock at
the Biltmore at two o’clock. And
don’t be late.
SALLY (V.O.)
I won’t, Holden.
Holden hangs up the phone and quickly packs his bags. Before he
leaves the room, he glances out the window at the opposite side
of the hotel, where he saw “the perverts” the night before, but
all the shades are drawn.
INT. EDMONT HOTEL ELEVATOR – LATER
The elevator doors slide open to reveal a different operator, an

older man in his 70s who smiles at him. Holden SIGHS his relief
and steps on, carrying his Gladstones.
EXT. EDMONT HOTEL – DAY
The day doorman (also different) cheerfully hails Holden a cab.

Holden gladly tips him a dollar.
INT. CAB – SAME
Holden tosses his suitcases into the back seat and climbs in after
them. The cabbie smiles as he turns to Holden.
CABBIE
Where to, pal?
Holden realizes he has nowhere to go. He opens his mouth, but has
no destination.
CABBIE (CONT’D)
Where you going, son?
HOLDEN
I… uh…
CABBIE
You don’t know where you’re going?
HOLDEN
(blurts it out)
Grand Central Station.
CABBIE
You got it.
INT. GRAND CENTRAL STATION – LATER
Holden puts his suitcases in a large locker and takes the key.
The station is fairly crowded as it’s a weekday, and a 16-year-
old with luggage doesn’t look out of place.
INT. DINER – LATER
Holden sits at the counter of a greasy spoon, eating a breakfast

of bacon and eggs, toast, coffee, and orange juice. He
practically devours it.
As he eats, two NUNS in black habits enter the diner lugging

cheap, faux-leather suitcases and a straw basket. Holden jumps
up and helps them with their suitcases as they sit down next to
him at the counter. They thank him politely.
The younger nun (30s) sits next to Holden; the older one (60s)
sits a seat away, with the younger nun in the middle. They order
toast and coffee. The older nun reads from a black, leather-
bound Bible and the younger from Romeo & Juliet.
HOLDEN
Are you collecting money for
charity?
YOUNGER NUN
No, dear. I couldn’t fit this in my
suitcase so I’m carrying it. We’re
teachers. We’ve just come from
Chicago and we’re going to start
teaching at a convent uptown.
The younger nun smiles at Holden from behind iron-rimmed glasses.

She has a kind face that puts him at ease.
HOLDEN
I thought if you were taking up a
collection I could make a small
contribution. You could keep the
money for when you do take up a
collection.
The older nun looks up from her Bible. Holden pulls a ten-dollar
bill from his wallet and drops it in the basket.
OLDER NUN
Oh, how very kind of you.
YOUNGER NUN
Are you sure you can afford it?
HOLDEN
Oh yes, yes ma’am. I have quite a
bit of money with me. My father’s
quite wealthy. I don’t know how
much he makes, but I imagine quite
a lot. He’s a corporation lawyer.
Those boys really haul it in.
OLDER NUN
Well thank you, young man.
They eat in silence for a moment. Holden notices the younger

nun’s book and interrupts.
HOLDEN
I’m not too crazy about Romeo and
Juliet. I mean I like them, but…
I don’t know. They get pretty
annoying sometimes.
YOUNGER NUN
How do you mean?
HOLDEN
I mean I felt much sorrier when old
Mercutio got killed than when Romeo
and Juliet did. The thing is, I
never liked old Romeo too much
after Mercutio gets stabbed by that
other guy-—Juliet’s cousin—-what’s
his name?
YOUNGER NUN
Tybalt.
HOLDEN
That’s right, Tybalt. It was
Romeo’s fault! I mean, I liked him
the best in the play, old Mercutio.
(MORE)
HOLDEN (CONT’D)
I don’t know. All those Montagues
and Capulets, they’re all right—-
especially Juliet-—but Mercutio,
he was… it’s hard to explain. He
was very smart and entertaining and
all. The thing is, it drives me
crazy if somebody gets killed—-
especially somebody very smart and
entertaining and all—-and it’s
somebody else’s fault. Romeo and
Juliet, at least it was their own
fault.
OLDER NUN
What school do you go to?
HOLDEN
Pencey Prep.
Both nuns MURMUR their acknowledgment of the school.
OLDER NUN
I’ve heard of it. That’s a very
good school.
Holden turns back to his breakfast and rolls his eyes, but
doesn’t let the nuns see it. The waitress brings his check and
the nuns’ check, which Holden reaches out and grabs.
YOUNGER NUN
We can’t let you pay for our
breakfast.
Holden digs into his wallet for more money.
HOLDEN
Sure you can. It’d be my pleasure.
OLDER NUN
You’ve been more than generous,
young man, but it’s not necessary.
HOLDEN
You’re sure?
Both nuns smile and nod their heads. He puts their check back on
the counter and slides it over to them. The older nun takes a
few bills from a small purse and leaves them with the check.
Holden lights a cigarette.
The nuns stand and grab their suitcases and basket. Holden
stands to help.
YOUNGER NUN
You’re a very sweet boy. We’ve
enjoyed talking to you so much.
HOLDEN
Good luck with the convent and
all.
The nuns leave the diner and Holden sits back down at the
counter. He counts his money, frowns, and smokes.
EXT. BROADWAY – LATER
Holden walks against foot traffic, a fish swimming upstream,

with his hands stuffed in his pockets and his hunting hat
slumped down on his head. The day is gray and windy.
The street is jammed with people going to the movies. Everyone’s

dressed up and CHATTERING excitedly about what they’ll see.
As Holden makes his way upstream, he sees a FAMILY—-mother,

father, and six-year-old son—-walking toward him. They’re lower-
class people but are dressed as nicely as they can afford. The
husband and wife talk absently as their son balances on the edge
of the curb, HUMMING a tune as cars ZOOM by.
As the boy passes by, Holden hears him SINGING softly—-
BOY
“If a body catch a body coming
through the rye, if a body catch a
body coming through the rye…”
Holden’s gloom lifts as he hears the boy’s song. The family

passes, and Holden smiles. He spies a record store and ducks
through the throng and in the door.
INT. RECORD STORE - DAY
Holden pushes past a handful of browsing customers and

approaches the sales desk. A well-dressed CLERK in her 30s turns
to him.
CLERK
What can I help you with?
HOLDEN
I’m looking for a record for my
sister. It’s called “Little Shirley
Beans.” It’s about a little kid
that won’t go out of the house
because two of her front teeth
were out and she’s ashamed to.
The clerk pauses, thinking.
HOLDEN (CONT’D)
It’s a very old, terrific record
that this colored girl singer,
Estelle Fletcher, made about 20
years ago. She sings it all
Dixieland, and it doesn’t sound
at all mushy.
The clerk comes around to the front of the desk and leads Holden
toward the rear of the store. He eagerly follows, his hunting
hat in hand.
CLERK
You said Estelle Fletcher?
HOLDEN
Yes, ma’am. It’s one of the best
records I ever heard.
The clerk stops and thumbs through LPs before finding the one
Holden wants. She holds it out for him to see and he grins
wildly.
HOLDEN (CONT’D)
I’m gonna take it up to the park
with me. My sister Phoebe goes
skating in the park on Sundays
quite often.
The clerk smiles patronizingly and leads Holden back to the

sales desk and the register.
EXT. BROADWAY – LATER
Holden, still going against foot traffic, trudges through the

crowd with the record (in a brown paper bag) pressed firmly to
his chest. He sidesteps people whom he thinks might hurt his
purchase.
INT. PHONE BOOTH – LATER
Holden catches his breath inside a stand-up pay phone booth. He

gently rests the record on a tiny ledge and picks up the
receiver. He dials tentatively. The phone RINGS a few times
before a woman (MRS. GALLAGHER) picks up.
MRS. GALLAGHER (V.O.)

Hello?
Holden freezes.

Hello? Is anyone there?
HOLDEN
(quietly)
Is… is Jane there?

Hello? Is someone there?
Mrs. Gallagher disconnects the call with a CLICK. The dial tone
RINGS in Holden’s ear.
HOLDEN
(sadly)
Is Jane there.
Despondent, Holden hangs up the phone, retrieves his record, and

exits the phone booth.
EXT. CENTRAL PARK – DAY
Holden walks one of the park’s paths. He looks down to see it

littered with dog waste, gobs of spit, and cigar butts. He
passes numerous benches that all look wet. Holden drags his
feet, as if the gloom of the day is weighing him down.
EXT. SKATING RINK – DAY
Holden approaches the skating rink, which is mostly empty except

for a few teenagers on dates. He sees an elementary-school age
GIRL lacing up her skates on a bench. She wears jeans and a
multitude of lumpy sweaters.
Holden walks over and sits down next to her.
HOLDEN
Do you know Phoebe Caulfield, by
any chance?
GIRL
Who?
HOLDEN
Phoebe Caulfield. She lives on 71st
Street. She’s in the fourth grade,
over at—-
GIRL
You know Phoebe?
HOLDEN
Yeah, I’m her brother. Do you know
where she is?
GIRL
She’s prob’ly at the museum. My
class went last Saturday.
HOLDEN
Which museum?
The girl shrugs her shoulders. Holden gets off the bench and
kneels down in front of her, helping her to tighten her skate.
GIRL
I don’t know. The museum.
HOLDEN
The one where the pictures are, or
the one where the Indians are?
GIRL
The Indians.
HOLDEN
Thanks a lot.
Holden jumps up and starts to go, but then remembers something.
HOLDEN (CONT’D)
Wait. This is Sunday.
The girl looks up at him.
GIRL
Oh. Then she isn’t.
(beat)
Thanks for tightening my skate.
Holden watches as the girl totters out to the ice and glides
away toward another young girl. They skate away, hand in hand.
EXT. CENTRAL PARK – LATER
As Holden walks through the park, he stops to watch kids on a

playground. Two very tiny kids are trying to work a seesaw, but
one of them is heavier than the other.
Holden walks over and puts his hand on the end with the skinnier
kid to even the weight. Neither kid says anything, but Holden
gets the impression they don’t want him around, so he leaves.
EXT. MUSEUM OF NATURAL HISTORY – LATER
Holden crosses Central Park West and stares at the Museum’s

façade. He still clutches Phoebe’s record to his chest, although
he knows she’s not there because it’s Sunday.
He stands motionless in front of the museum as people pass by on

the sidewalk and cars blur by behind him, but he doesn’t move.
INT. CAB – DAY
Holden rides a cab downtown to meet Sally. The record sits on

the seat next to him. He doesn’t say anything to the driver.
INT. BILTMORE HOTEL – LATER
Holden sits on a leather couch in the plush lobby and watches

girls wait for their dates: “Girls with their legs crossed,
girls with their legs not crossed, girls with terrific legs,
girls with lousy legs, girls that looked like swell girls, girls
that looked like they’d be bitches if you knew them.”
Holden spies Sally coming up the stairs and he starts down to

meet her. She’s average height (but shorter than Holden) and
beautiful, wearing a black coat and a black beret.
Sally runs up the last few stairs and throws her arms around
Holden’s neck in an ostentatious way. Sally’s voice is loud, and
Holden is a little embarrassed by her, but he’s also proud to be
seen with such a good-looking girl.
SALLY
Holden! It’s marvelous to see you!
It’s been ages.
HOLDEN
Swell to see you. How are ya?
SALLY
Absolutely marvelous. Am I late?
HOLDEN
No, but we better hurry. The show
starts at 2:40.
Holden and Sally continue down the stairs toward the taxi stand
outside. She takes his hand as they walk.
SALLY
What are we going to see?
HOLDEN
The Lunts. It’s all I could get
tickets for.
SALLY
The Lunts? Oh, marvelous!
INT. CAB – LATER
Holden and Sally kiss in the back seat of the cab. The driver
SLAMS on the brakes and the cab SCREECHES to a halt, and Holden
loses his balance, falling off the seat and onto the floor.
Sally GIGGLES and even though Holden wants to yell at the

driver, he refrains. He sits back down and Sally rubs her
lipstick from his face. They look into each other’s eyes.
HOLDEN
Sally, I love you.
SALLY
(casually)
Oh, darling, I love you too.
Sally runs a hand through Holden’s brush-cut hair.
SALLY (CONT’D)
Promise me you’ll let your hair
grow. Crew cuts are getting corny.
And your hair’s so lovely.
INT. THEATER – LATER
Holden and Sally sit in the balcony of the theater, watching as

the glow of the movie bathes them in artificial light. They hold
hands, but that’s it. Sally is completely engrossed in the
movie, but Holden watches with minimal interest.
INT. THEATER LOBBY – LATER
After the movie, Holden and Sally stand outside sharing a

cigarette. The lobby is crammed with people, all smoking and
TALKING loudly about what they’ve just seen. Holden carries
Phoebe’s record tucked under his arm.
Sally scans the lobby for people she might know and her eyes
fall on GEORGE (early 20s), an “Ivy League jerk” in a gray
flannel suit. He stands next to the wall, smoking and trying his
best to look casually bored. Sally gestures at him with her
cigarette, pointing him out to Holden.
SALLY
I know that boy from somewhere.
I know I know him. Where do I
know him from?
Holden rolls his eyes.
HOLDEN
Why don’t you go on over and give
him a kiss if you know him? He’ll
enjoy it.
Sally scowls at Holden, but perks up when George sees her and
makes his way through the crowded lobby. They greet each other
obnoxiously, and Holden rolls his eyes again.
SALLY
Holden, this is George. He goes
to Andover. George, Holden.
Holden nods and shakes George’s hand but doesn’t say anything.
George ignores Holden immediately and focuses his attention on
Sally.
SALLY (CONT’D)
What did you think of the film?
GEORGE
It’s no masterpiece, but the Lunts,
of course, were absolute angels.
Holden turns his back as Sally and George fawn over each other,
touching each other’s arms as they LAUGH and talk about people
they both know.
HOLDEN
(sotto voce)
Goddamn phony.
Holden snubs out his cigarette in a nearby ashtray.

INT. CAB – LATER
Holden and Sally ride in the backseat of the cab, but there’s no
necking this time—-an icy silence hangs between them.
HOLDEN
I thought for a minute that that
Ivy League jerk was going to get in
the goddamn cab with us.
SALLY
He was meeting friends for
cocktails, remember?
HOLDEN
Yeah, I remember.
Another long moment of silence as Holden and Sally look out

their respective windows. Their little spat forgotten, Sally
turns to Holden excitedly.
SALLY
I have a marvelous idea! What time
do you have to be home for dinner?
I mean, are you in a terrible hurry
or anything?
HOLDEN
Me? No. No special time. Why?
SALLY
Let’s go ice skating at Radio City!
Just for an hour or so. Don’t you
want to? If you don’t want to—-
HOLDEN
I didn’t say I didn’t want to.
Sure. If you want to.
SALLY
Do you mean it? Don’t just say
it if you don’t mean it. I don’t
give a darn, one way orthe other.
(beat)
You can rent those darling little
skating skirts. Jeanette Cruz did
it last week.
EXT. ROCKEFELLER CENTER SKATING RINK - NIGHT
SERIES OF SHOTS:
A) Holden and Sally walk onto the crowded ice. Sally wears a
“little blue butt-twitcher of a dress.” Holden is behind her,
his eyes glued to her behind.
B) They skate, but they’re the worst ones out there. Sally’s
ankles bend in until they’re practically on the ice. Holden
isn’t much better, and they both grab for the side railing often
to keep from falling.
C) Holden catches Sally as she’s about to fall. As he holds

her, he looks up at the massive bronze statue of Atlas holding
up the world.
D) Holden and Sally lean against the side railing as more

graceful skaters of all ages WHIZ past them.
INT. ROCKEFELLER CENTER BAR – SAME
Holden and Sally sit at a table in their socks with their skates
at their feet. Sally takes off her gloves and Holden hands her a
cigarette. They watch the skaters outside the window and drink
Cokes.
Sally bends down to rub her sore ankles. Holden takes a match
from the book and lights it, letting it burn down to his
fingertips before dropping it into the ashtray. (He does this
throughout their conversation.)
SALLY
Look, I have to know. Are you
coming over to help me trim the
Christmas tree?
HOLDEN
I wrote you I would. You’ve asked
me that about 20 times. Sure, I am.
Sally takes in the room, looking at the other couples who

clearly aren’t in pain after skating.
HOLDEN
Hey, Sally. Do you ever get fed up?
I mean do you like school and all
that stuff?
SALLY
It’s a terrific bore.
HOLDEN
I know it’s a terrific bore, but do
you hate it, is what I mean.
SALLY
Well, I don’t exactly hate it.
You always have to—-
Holden leans closer to Sally over the table.
HOLDEN
Well, I hate it. Boy, do I hate it.
But it isn’t just that. I hate
living in New York and all.
Taxicabs and Madison Avenue buses,
with the drivers and all always
yelling at you to get out at the
rear door, and being introduced to
phony guys that call the Lunts
angels, and going up and down in
elevators when you just want to go
outside, and guys fitting your
pants all the time at Brooks, and
people always—-
SALLY
Don’t shout, please.
Holden looks around the room quizzically. He wasn’t shouting,

and nobody’s paying them any attention.
HOLDEN
(quietly)
Take cars. Most people, they’re
crazy about cars. They worry if
they get a little scratch on them,
and they’re always talking about
how many miles they get to a gallon,
(MORE)
HOLDEN (CONT’D)
and if they get a brand-new car
already they start thinking about
trading it in for one that’s even
newer. I don’t even like old cars.
I mean they don’t even interest me.
I’d rather have a goddamn horse.
A horse is at least human, for
God’s sake. A horse you can at
least—-
SALLY
I don’t know what you’re even
talking about. You jump from one—-
HOLDEN
You know something? You’re probably
the only reason I’m in New York
right now, or anywhere. If you
weren’t around, I’d probably be
someplace way the hell off. In the
woods or some goddamn place. You’re
the only reason I’m around,
practically.
Sally misses the point. She leans in closer to him.
SALLY
You’re sweet.
HOLDEN
You ought to go to a boys’ school
sometime. It’s full of phonies,
and all you do is study so that you
can learn enough to be smart enough
be able to buy a goddamn Cadillac
someday, and you have to keep
making believe you give a damn if
the football team loses, and all
you do is talk about girls and
liquor and sex all day, and
everybody sticks together in these
dirty little goddamn cliques. If
you try to have a little
intelligent—-
SALLY
(stern)
Now, listen. Lots of boys get more
of out school than that.
HOLDEN
I agree they do, some of them! But
that’s all I get out of it. See?
That’s exactly my goddamn point.
I don’t get hardly nothing out of
anything. I’m in bad shape.
(beat)
I’m in lousy shape.
SALLY
You certainly are.
They smoke in silence for a moment. Holden stubs his cigarette

out in the ashtray and reaches over, taking Sally’s hand.
HOLDEN
How would you like to get the hell
out of here? I know this guy down
in Greenwich Village. We can borrow
his car for a couple of weeks.
Tomorrow morning we could drive up
to Massachusetts and Vermont and
all around there, see. It’s
beautiful as hell up there, it
really is.
Sally looks at her hand and then up at Holden to see if he’s

kidding. He’s not.
HOLDEN (CONT’D)
No kidding. We’ll stay in these
cabin camps and stuff like that.
When my dough runs out, I could
get a job somewhere and later on,
we could get married or something.
I could chop all our own wood in
the wintertime and all. Honest to
God, we could have a terrific time.
Wuddaya say? Please?
Sally wriggles her hand free of Holden’s grip. She looks

disgusted.
SALLY
You can’t just do something like
that.
HOLDEN
Why the hell not?
SALLY
Because you can’t, that’s all.
In the first place, we’re both
practically children. And did you
ever stop to think what you’d do if
you didn’t get a job when your
money ran out? We’d starve to death.
The whole thing’s so ridiculous,
it isn’t even—-
HOLDEN
It isn’t ridiculous. I’d get a job.
You don’t have to worry about that.
(beat)
Don’t you want to go with me? Say
so, if you don’t.
SALLY
It isn’t that. It isn’t that at
all. We’ll have plenty of time to
do all those things. I mean after
college and all, and if we should
get married and all. You’re just—-
HOLDEN
(quietly)
But there won’t be. It’ll be
entirely different.
SALLY
What? I can’t hear you. One minute
you scream at me, and the next—-
HOLDEN
I said no, there won’t be plenty of
time after college and all. It’d be
entirely different. I’d be working
in some office, making a lot of
(MORE)
HOLDEN (CONT’D)
dough, and riding to work in cabs
and Madison Avenue buses, and
reading newspapers, and playing
bridge all the time, and going to
the movies.
(beat)
Christ almighty. You don’t see what
I mean at all.
SALLY
Maybe I don’t! Maybe you don’t,
either.
Holden stands up to leave.
HOLDEN
C’mon, let’s get outta here. You
give me a royal pain in the ass, if
you want to know the truth.
Hurt, Sally looks up at Holden with tears forming in her eyes.

Holden sees the other patrons looking at them and does his best
to calm Sally down. He sits and strokes her hand.
HOLDEN
Sally, I’m sorry. No kidding. I’m
sorry.
SALLY
You’re sorry. That’s very funny.
HOLDEN
C’mon, I’ll take you home. No
kidding.
Sally stands in a huff and collects her coat, hat, and skates.
SALLY
I can go home by myself, thank you.
If you think I’d let you take me
home, you’re crazy. No boy ever
said that to me in my entire life.
In the least opportune moment, Holden lets out a loud LAUGH.

Sally’s look could break glass. She turns on her heel and storms
out of the bar. Holden looks around at the other patrons and
reluctantly follows her.
HOLDEN
Sally--
SALLY
(over her shoulder)
Go away.
HOLDEN
C’mon, Sally. I said I was—-
Sally turns and faces Holden with her belongings bundled up in

her arms.
SALLY
Leave. Me. Alone.
Holden watches Sally trudge through the bar in her stocking feet
and out to retrieve her shoes. He doesn’t follow.
INT. DRUGSTORE – NIGHT
Holden sits at a drugstore counter, eating a cheese sandwich and

drinking a chocolate milkshake. Sally is noticeably absent.
Holden drains his milkshake with a SLURP and heads for a pay
phone at the end of the counter. He deposits his money and
dials, fidgeting with his hands and tapping his toes nervously
as the phone RINGS. And rings. And rings.
Holden hangs up, grabs his record, and puts his hunting hat back
on before leaving the drugstore.
INT. BAR – NIGHT
Holden sits dejectedly at a table stuffed into the corner of a

crowded piano bar. An effeminate-looking man with wavy hair
plays the piano.
Holden’s been drinking scotch and soda, and he has two glasses
with only ice in them while he works on a third.
INT. BAR – LATER
Holden still sits at his table while the staff puts up the
chairs and turns on the lights. In the corner a couple cuddles,
oblivious to closing time.
A waiter approaches Holden and motions with his head for the
door. Holden stands, wobbling, and pats the waiter on the
shoulder as he stumbles past. He leaves a pile of bills on the
table.
Before he staggers out of the bar, Holden ducks into another

phone booth. He’s so drunk he can barely dial the number. He
slumps against the side of the booth as the phone RINGS.
Sally’s mother answers the phone weakly, sleepy.
MRS. HAYES (V.O.)

Hello?
HOLDEN
(yelling)
Hello!
MRS. HAYES (V.O.)

Who is this?
HOLDEN
This is me. Holden Caulfield.
Lemme speaka Sally, please.
MRS. HAYES (V.O.)

Sally’s asleep. This is her mother.
Why are you calling at this hour,
Holden? Do you know what time it is?
HOLDEN
Yeah. Wanna talka Sally. Very
important. Put her on.
MRS. HAYES (V.O.)

Sally’s asleep, young man. Call her
tomorrow. Good night.
HOLDEN
Wake ‘er up! Wake ‘er up, hey.
Attaboy.
After a moment of silence, Sally gets on the line. She’s angry.
SALLY (V.O.)
Holden, what’s the big idea?
HOLDEN
Sally? That you?
SALLY (V.O.)
Yes. Stop screaming. Are you drunk?
HOLDEN
Yeah. Listen. I’ll come over
Christmas Eve. Okay? Trimma goddamn
tree. Okay? Hey, Sally. Okay?
SALLY (V.O.)
Yes. You’re drunk. Go to bed.
HOLDEN
Sally? I’ll come over and trimma
tree for ya, okay?
SALLY (V.O.)
Yes. Go to bed now.
Holden closes his eyes and falls asleep for a second or two.
SALLY (V.O.)(CONT’D)
Holden?
He snaps awake.
HOLDEN
Hey, Sally! You want me to trimma
tree for ya? Ya want me to? Huh?
SALLY (V.O.)
Yes. Good night. Go home.
HOLDEN
Sally, I’m sorry—-
Sally hangs up on Holden with a sharp CLICK.

HOLDEN (CONT’D)
G’night, Sally baby. Sally
sweetheart darling.
With all his effort, Holden puts the phone back on the cradle,
but he hangs onto it so he doesn’t crumple to the floor.
INT. BAR – MEN’S ROOM – LATER
Holden stands in front of one of the sinks in the swanky men’s

room. He’s the only one there. He watches the bowl fill up with
cold water.
He places both hands on the edge of the bowl, takes a deep

breath, and DUNKS his entire head in, right up to his ears.
Holden yanks his head out of the bowl and starts shivering
instantly. He doesn’t even bother trying to dry his hair.
Instead, he staggers over to a radiator at the far end of the
men’s room and sits down on it, letting the heat warm him. He
smiles drunkenly, counting the tiles on the floor.
INT. BAR – COAT CHECK – LATER
Sobered somewhat, Holden walks unsteadily to the coat check

room. His head and shirt collar are still soaked.
Holden rifles through his pockets, but he can’t find his claim
ticket. He CURSES under his breath as he turns his pants pockets
inside out. When he looks up, the cute COAT CHECK GIRL (late
20s) has his coat, hat, and record held out for him.
COAT CHECK GIRL

Here. You’re the last one.
HOLDEN
Lost my goddamn ticket. Thanks.
Holden pries a dollar bill from his pocket and tries to give it
to her as a tip. She waves him away graciously.
HOLDEN (CONT’D)
Listen. What time you get offa
work? Wanna have a drink with me?
COAT CHECK GIRL

I’m old enough to be your mother.
HOLDEN
No, no. I’m forty-two. Look.
Holden leans closer and shows her his gray hair. She LAUGHS. He
holds up his hunting hat before he puts it on.
HOLDEN (CONT’D)
You like my hat?
She nods.
COAT CHECK GIRL

You should put it on before you
leave. Cold outside, y’know.
Holden slams the hat down onto his head, buttons up his coat,
scoops up his record, and bows to the girl before walking
unsteadily out of the bar.
EXT. BAR – SAME
The cold winter air hits Holden like a punch to the face,
helping him sober up. He blinks away his drunkenness and folds
the flaps of his hat down against the wind. Clutching his
record, he trudges into the wind.
EXT. CENTRAL PARK POND – NIGHT
Holden walks—-a little more steadily now-—in the direction of

the pond. The park is completely empty. Whether it’s the wind or
his depression, tears streak down his face. He stops under a
lone street lamp that casts hazy light down onto him.
He reaches up to wipe the tears away and accidentally drops

“Little Shirley Beans.” It SHATTERS into a hundred pieces. He’s
crestfallen.
Holden drops to his knees and opens the record’s sleeve, taking
the tiny black pieces of vinyl and stuffing them in his coat
pockets. He plops down on a nearby bench and stares at the half-
frozen pond. There are no ducks.
As Holden finishes wiping away his tears, he feels the back of

his neck and collar are covered in tiny chunks of ice. He
shivers uncontrollably.
Finally, Holden stands and reaches his hands into his pants
pocket. He has three singles, five quarters, and a nickel. He
takes a couple steps toward the water and one by one skips the
coins across the half-frozen pond.
His change gone, Holden turns and walks purposefully out of the
park, heading east. Heading home.
EXT. CAULFIELDS’ APARTMENT BUILDING – NIGHT
Holden crosses 5th Avenue and runs part of the way down 71st
Street to his parents’ building, a 15-story brick high rise with
an awning and a buttoned-up doorman who nods as Holden ducks
inside.
INT. CAULFIELDS’ APARTMENT BUILDING - ELEVATOR – NIGHT
Holden yanks off his hunting hat and steps into the elevator. A
young-looking ELEVATOR BOY (20s) nods to him as he enters. The
elevator boy shuts the doors and rests his hand on the lever.
HOLDEN
Take me up to the Dicksteins,
please.
ELEVATOR BOY
They ain’t in. They’re at a party.
HOLDEN
That’s all right. I’m supposed to
wait for them. I’m their nephew.
The elevator boy gives Holden a suspicious look.
HOLDEN (CONT’D)
I have a bad leg. I have to hold it
in a certain position. I think I
better sit in the chair outside
their door.
The elevator boy pushes the lever down and the car lurches into
motion.
INT. CAULFIELDS’ APARTMENT BUILDING – HALLWAY - SAME
The elevator DINGS as Holden limps comically off the elevator.

There are only two apartments on the floor, and he hobbles
toward the one on the right.
As soon as the door shuts, Holden pivots and goes to the door on
the left, his family’s apartment. He fumbles in his pants pocket
for his door key and stealthily opens the door, slides inside,
and carefully closes it behind him.
INT. CAULFIELDS’ APARTMENT – SAME
In the dark, Holden creeps through the foyer and down the
hallway, taking his time so as not to wake his parents.
INT. CAULFIELDS’ APARTMENT – PHOEBE’S ROOM - SAME
Holden stops at a bedroom door that’s not quite shut all the
way. He gently pushes it open to reveal a big bedroom with a
king-sized bed and an enormous wooden desk. Holden sits down at
the desk and gently CLICKS on the desk lamp.
In the bed sleeps Holden’s younger sister PHOEBE (10). She’s a

cute kid, skinny, with reddish-brown hair. She wears blue
pajamas with red elephants on them and sleeps with her mouth
open.
Another chair has a tan jacket hanging on its back, with a

blouse on the seat and socks and dark brown loafers tucked
neatly underneath.
Holden smiles as he flips through Phoebe’s schoolbooks and

notebooks on the desk. He sets them back down and leans closer
to his sister.
HOLDEN
(whispering)
Phoebe. Wake up, Phoeb.
She sits up with a start, then throws herself joyfully at her

brother, wrapping her arms around his neck.
PHOEBE
Holden! Whenja get home?
HOLDEN
Not so loud.
(beat)
Just now. How are ya, anyway?
PHOEBE
Mother said you’d be home Wednesday.
She said Wednesday.
HOLDEN
I got out early. Not so loud.
You’ll wake everybody up.
PHOEBE
What time is it? They won’t be home
until late, Mother said. They went
to a party in Connecticut.
HOLDEN
Did they say what time they’d be
back?
PHOEBE
No, but not till very late. Daddy
took the car and everything so they
wouldn’t have to worry about trains.
We have a radio in the car now!
Except that Mother said nobody can
play it when the car’s in traffic.
Holden reaches into his coat pockets and fingers the fragments
of the record.
HOLDEN
Listen, I bought you a record.
Only I broke it on the way home.
He scoops the pieces out of his pockets and shows her.
PHOEBE
Gimme the pieces. I’m saving them.
Phoebe takes the vinyl pieces out of her brother’s hands and
stashes them in the drawer of the nightstand next to the bed.
PHOEBE (CONT’D)
Holden, how come you’re not home
Wednesday?
HOLDEN
What?
PHOEBE
You didn’t get kicked out or
anything, did you?
HOLDEN
I told you. They let us out early.
They let the whole—-
PHOEBE
You did get kicked out! You did!
Phoebe punches Holden in the leg.
PHOEBE (CONT’D)
You did! Oh, Holden!
Phoebe covers her hand with her mouth, then smacks Holden again
with her fist.
HOLDEN
Who said I got kicked out? Nobody
said I—-
PHOEBE
You did. Daddy’ll kill you!
Phoebe flops on her stomach on the bed and holds her pillow down
over her head. Holden prods her gently.
HOLDEN
Cut it out now. Nobody’s going to
kill me. C’mon, Phoeb. Take that
goddamn thing off your head.
Nobody’s gonna kill me.
Phoebe refuses, and her words are muted through the pillow.
PHOEBE
(muffled)
Daddy’s gonna kill you. He’s gonna
kill you.
HOLDEN
Nobody’s gonna kill me. In the
first place, I’m going away. I may
get a job on a ranch or something
for a while. I know this guy whose
grandfather’s got a ranch in
Colorado. I’ll keep in touch with
you and all when I’m gone. C’mon.
Take that off your head. C’mon.
Hey, Phoeb. Please.
Holden tries pulling the pillow off Phoebe’s head, but she holds
it tight.
HOLDEN (CONT’D)
Phoebe, please. C’mon outta there.
C’mon, hey. C’mon out.
Holden gives up and leaves Phoebe’s bedroom.
INT. CAULFIELDS’ APARTMENT – LIVING ROOM
Holden wanders into the well-appointed living room and opens a

box on the table. He removes a handful of cigarettes and stuffs
them into his pockets.
INT. CAULFIELDS’ APARTMENT – PHOEBE’S ROOM - SAME
Holden peeks back into Phoebe’s room. She’s taken the pillow off
her head but she lies with her back to the door and her brother.
Holden sits down gently on the edge of the bed.
PHOEBE
Daddy’ll kill you.
HOLDEN
No, he won’t. The worst he’ll do,
he’ll give me hell again, and then
(MORE)
HOLDEN (CONT’D)
he’ll send me to that goddamn
military school. That’s all he’ll
do to me. And in the first place,
I won’t even be around. I’ll be in
Colorado on this ranch.
PHOEBE
You can’t even ride a horse.
HOLDEN
Sure I can. They can teach you in
about two minutes.
PHOEBE
(snotty)
I suppose you failed in every
single subject again.
HOLDEN
No, I didn’t. I passed English.
Holden reaches out and pinches Phoebe gently. She halfheartedly

tries to swat his hand away but keeps looking away from him.
PHOEBE
Why did you do it, Holden?
HOLDEN
Oh, God, Phoebe, don’t ask me. I’m
sick of everybody asking me that.
(beat)
A million reasons why. It was one
of the worst schools I ever went to.
It was full of phonies. And mean
guys. I don’t even feel like
talking about it. It was a stinking
school. I just didn’t like anything
that was happening at Pencey. I
can’t explain it.
Finally, Phoebe turns to face Holden. Her expression is taut and

serious.
PHOEBE
You don’t like anything that’s
happening.
HOLDEN
(struck)
Yes I do. Sure I do. Don’t say that.
Why the hell would you say a thing
like that?
PHOEBE
Because you don’t. You don’t like
any schools. You don’t like a
million things. You don’t.
Holden jumps to his feet, suddenly defensive.
HOLDEN
I do! That’s where you’re wrong.
(beat)
Why the hell would you say that?
PHOEBE
Because you don’t. Name one thing.
HOLDEN
One thing? One thing I like? Okay.
(beat)
One thing I like a lot, you mean?
But he can’t. Holden, lost in a memory, stares at his feet.
PHOEBE
You can’t think of one thing.
HOLDEN
Yes, I can. Sure I can.
PHOEBE
Well, do it, then.
HOLDEN
I like what I’m doing right now.
Sitting here with you, and talking,
and thinking about stuff.
PHOEBE
This isn’t anything really!
HOLDEN
It is so something really!
Why the hell isn’t it? People
never think anything is anything
really. I’m getting goddamn sick
of it.
PHOEBE
Daddy’s going to kill you.
A moment of silence descends. Holden sits back down on the bed

and lights a cigarette.
HOLDEN
You know what I’d like to be? I
mean if I had my goddamn choice?
PHOEBE
What? Stop swearing.
HOLDEN
You know that song, “If a body
catch a body comin’ through the
rye”? I’d like—-
PHOEBE
It’s “If a body meet a body coming
through the rye”! It’s a poem. By
Robert Burns.
HOLDEN
I know it’s a poem by Robert Burns.
(beat)
Anyway, I keep picturing all of
these little kids playing some game
in a big field of rye and all.
Thousands of little kids, and
nobody’s around—-nobody big,
I mean—-except me. I’m standing on
the edge of some crazy cliff, and I
have to catch everybody if they
start to go over the cliff. That’s
all I’d do all day. I’d just be the
catcher in the rye and all. I know
it’s crazy, but that’s the only
thing I’d really like to be.
PHOEBE
(unmoved)
Daddy’s going to kill you.
HOLDEN
I don’t give a damn if he does.
PHOEBE
I’m taking belching lessons from
this girl, Phyllis Marguiles.
Listen.
Phoebe takes a couple short, quick breaths and opens her mouth
wide to belch, but only a little SQUEAK comes out. She smiles at
her brother.
HOLDEN
It’s good. Keep practicing.
Before Phoebe can let out another near-belch, she stops, having
heard something outside. Holden looks at her, terrified.
HOLDEN (CONT’D)
What’s the matter?
PHOEBE
Shhh!
(in a loud whisper)
The front door! It’s them!
Holden jumps up quickly. He turns off the light over the desk
and jams his cigarette out on the bottom of his shoe, then drops
it in his pocket. He fans at the air, then leaps into the closet
and shuts the door.
Through a tiny crack in the door, Holden sees his mother, MRS.
CAULFIELD (late 40s, prim and proper) come into the room. Light
from the hallways spills into Phoebe’s bedroom.
MRS. CAULFIELD
Phoebe? I saw the light, young lady.
PHOEBE
Hello!
(beat)
I couldn’t sleep.
MRS. CAULFIELD
(dryly)
Marvelous. And why are you awake,
may I ask? Were you warm enough?
PHOEBE
Yes. I just couldn’t sleep.
Mrs. Caulfield SNIFFS at the air in the room.
MRS. CAULFIELD
Phoebe Caulfield, have you been
smoking in here? Tell me the truth,
young lady.
PHOEBE
I just lit one for one second. I
just took one puff. Then I threw
it out the window.
MRS. CAULFIELD
Well I don’t like that. I don’t like
that at all.
(beat)
Do you want another blanket?
PHOEBE
No thanks.
MRS. CAULFIELD
Well. Go to sleep.
Mrs. Caulfield kisses Phoebe on the forehead.
PHOEBE
Holden’ll be home on Wednesday,
won’t he?
MRS. CAULFIELD
So far as I know. Good night.
Holden’s mother closes the bedroom door and he spills out of the
closet. In the dark he runs into Phoebe, who got out of bed to
come tell him the coast was clear. They WHISPER.
HOLDEN
I gotta get a move on.
PHOEBE
Don’t go now. Wait’ll they’re
asleep!
HOLDEN
No. Now. Now’s the best time.
PHOEBE
But—-
HOLDEN
She’ll be in the bathroom and
Daddy’ll turn on the news or
something. I got my damn bags at
the station.
(beat)
Listen. You got any dough, Phoeb?
I’m practically broke.
PHOEBE
Just my Christmas dough. For
presents and all.
HOLDEN
Oh.
PHOEBE
You want some?
HOLDEN
I can’t take your Christmas dough.
PHOEBE
I can lend you some.
Phoebe moves over to the desk and CLICKS the lamp on again. She
rummages through a desk drawer. Holden sits quietly on the bed.
PHOEBE (CONT’D)
Where will you go?
HOLDEN
I’ll probably stay at Mr.
Antolini’s house till maybe
Tuesday night. Then I’ll come home.
If I get a chance, I’ll phone ya.
Phoebe holds out a clump of money and puts it in Holden’s hand.
HOLDEN (CONT’D)
Hey, I don’t need all this. Just
give me two bucks is all. No
kidding. Here—-
He tries to give her back some of the money, but she shakes her
head no and crosses her arms across her chest.
PHOEBE
You can pay me back.
HOLDEN
How much is it, for God’s sake?
PHOEBE
Eight dollars and eighty-five cents.
(beat)
Sixty-five cents. I spent some.
Phoebe folds Holden’s hand around the wad of money. He tries to

compose himself, but he can’t help from CRYING. She climbs up on
the bed and wraps an arm around his neck. He puts his arm around
her.
After a moment, Holden wipes his eyes and buttons his coat. He
tucks Phoebe in and kisses her on the forehead. She looks
longingly up at him.
Holden reaches into his coat pocket and takes out the hunting
hat.
PHOEBE
What’s that?
HOLDEN
New hat. Ya like it?
Phoebe nods enthusiastically. He reaches down and places it

gently on her head, lowering the ear flaps. She grins wide.
PHOEBE
Don’t you need it? It’s cold.
HOLDEN
Nah, you keep it.
(beat)
I’ll give you a buzz if I get a
chance.
Holden winks at his sister and ducks quietly out of her room,
closing the door behind him ever-so-gently.
INT. CAULFIELDS’ APARTMENT – SAME
Just as before, Holden tiptoes down the hallway. Lights are on

and the sound of the TV NEWS filters from another room. The
front door CREAKS slightly as Holden opens it, but he closes it
quickly and he’s gone.
EXT. CAULFIELDS’ APARTMENT BUILDING – NIGHT
Holden steps out into the blustery night air. He turns his
coat’s collar up, sinks his hands into his pockets, and trudges
east on 71st Street.
EXT. ANTOLINIS’ APARTMENT BUILDING – HALLWAY – NIGHT
Holden stands shivering outside the door to his former teacher’s

apartment. Gingerly, with shaking hands, he reaches out and
RINGS the doorbell.
After a few seconds, the door is answered by MR. ANTOLINI (late

30s), a good-looking, sophisticated man in his bathrobe and
slippers. He has a highball in one hand.
MR. ANTOLINI
Holden, m’boy! My god, you’ve grown
another 20 inches. Good to see you.
HOLDEN
How are you, Mr. Antolini? How’s
Mrs. Antolini?
MR. ANTOLINI
We’re both just dandy. She’s asleep.
Let’s have that coat.
INT. ANTOLINIS’ APARTMENT – SAME
Mr. Antolini takes Holden’s coat and hangs it in a nearby

closet.
MR. ANTOLIN
I expected to see a day-old infant
in your arms!
Mr. Antolini leads Holden into the sunken living room. It looks
like they’d just had a party—-dishes with peanuts in them and
half-filled glasses all over.
MR. ANTOLINI (CONT’D)

Have a seat, Holden. Excuse the
appearance of the place. Are you
smoking now?
Mr. Antolini offers Holden a box of cigarettes, just like the

one his parents have. He takes one with a nod.
HOLDEN
Thanks. Just once in a while. I’m a
moderate smoker.
MR. ANTOLINI
I’ll bet you are.
(beat)
So. You and Pencey are no longer
one. What was the trouble? How’d
you do in English? I’ll show you
the door in short order if you
flunked English.
HOLDEN
Oh, I passed English all right.
It was mostly literature, though.
I flunked Oral Expression.
MR. ANTOLINI
Why?
HOLDEN
It’s this course where each boy has
to get up in class and make a
speech. You know, spontaneous and
(MORE)
HOLDEN (CONT’D)
all. And if the boy digresses at
all, you’re supposed to yell,
“Digression!” at him as fast as
you can. It just about drove me
crazy.
MR. ANTOLINI
Why?
Holden pinches the bridge of his nose, as if a headache had

suddenly come on.
HOLDEN
Oh, I don’t know. That digression
business got on my nerves. I like
it when somebody digresses. It’s
more interesting and all.
MR. ANTOLINI
You don’t care to have somebody
stick to the point when he tells
you something?
HOLDEN
Oh, sure! But I don’t like them
to stick too much to the point.
I mean, it’s dirty to keep yelling
“Digression!” at somebody when he’s
all nice and excited.
(beat)
I don’t know. It’s hard to explain.
Holden stubs out his cigarette and clutches his stomach. He’s
not feeling good at all. Mr. Antolini gets up and crosses the
room to the bar, where he fixes himself another highball.
MR. ANTOLINI
I had lunch with your dad a couple
of weeks ago. Did you know that?
HOLDEN
No, I didn’t.
MR. ANTOLINI
He’s terribly concerned about you.
HOLDEN
I know it. I know he is.
Holden looks like he just wants to lie down. Mr. Antolini comes
back to his seat and lights another cigarette.
MR. ANTOLINI
Frankly, I don’t know what the hell
to say to you, Holden.
HOLDEN
I know. I’m very hard to talk to.
I realize that.
MR. ANTOLINI
I have a feeling you’re riding for
some kind of a terrible, terrible
fall. It may be the kind where, at
the age of 30, you sit in some bar
hating everybody who comes in
looking as if he might have played
football in college. Then again,
you may pick up just enough
education to hate people who say,
“It’s a secret between he and I.”
Or you may end up in some business
office, throwing paper clips at the
nearest stenographer. I just don’t
know. But do you know what I’m
driving at, at all?
HOLDEN
Yes. Sure. But you’re wrong about
that hating business, you really
are. I don’t hate too many guys.
I may hate them for a little while,
like this guy Stradlater I knew at
Pencey, and this other boy, Robert
Ackley. But after a while, if I
didn’t see them, I sort of missed
them. I sort of miss them now.
They sit in silence for a long moment. Holden rubs the bridge of
his nose, then his stomach. Mr. Antolini gets up and plunks a
chunk of ice in his drink.
MR. ANTOLINI
This fall I think you’re riding
for, it’s a special kind of fall,
a horrible kind. The man falling
isn’t permitted to feel or hear
himself hit bottom. He just keeps
falling and falling. You follow me?
HOLDEN
Yes, sir.
MR. ANTOLINI
I don’t want to scare you, but I
can very clearly see you dying
nobly, one way or another, for some
highly unworthy cause.
(beat)
If I write something down for you,
will you read it carefully? And
keep it?
HOLDEN
Yes. Sure.
Mr. Antolini crosses the room again, this time to his desk. He
returns with a note pad and pencil. He writes as he speaks to
Holden.
MR. ANTOLINI
This wasn’t written by a poet,
but a psychoanalyst named Wilhelm
Stekel. Here’s what he said: “The
mark of the immature man is that
he wants to die nobly for a cause,
while the mark of the mature man
is that he wants to live humbly
for one.”
Mr. Antolini leans across the table and hands the paper to
Holden. He reads it, nods his thanks, folds it, and tucks in
into his pocket. As Mr. Antolini takes a sip from his highball,
Holden YAWNS. Mr. Antolini LAUGHS and stands.

C’mon. We’ll fix up the couch for
you.
Holden follows Mr. Antolini over to the closet, where Mr.

Antolini tries to take down sheets and blankets from the top
shelf. The highball glass in his hand prevents it, so he downs
his drink in one gulp and puts the glass on the floor.
Mr. Antolini brings down the bedsheets and hands them to Holden.
They cross back to the couch and messily make the bed.

How’re all your women?
HOLDEN
(exhausted)
They’re okay.
MR. ANTOLINI
How’s Sally?
HOLDEN
She’s all right. I had a date with
her this afternoon. We don’t have
too much in common anymore.
MR. ANTOLINI
Helluva pretty girl. What about
the other girl, the one you told
me about, in Maine?
HOLDEN
Jane Gallagher. She’s all right.
I’m probably going to give her a
buzz tomorrow.
Mr. Antolini gestures at the couch.
MR. ANTOLINI
It’s all yours. You know where the
bathroom is. If there’s anything
you need, just holler.
HOLDEN
Thanks a lot, sir. You really saved
my life tonight.
Mr. Antolini stares at Holden for a long, uncomfortable moment

before rustling the boy’s hair.
MR. ANTOLINI
All right. Good night, handsome.
HOLDEN
G’night, sir. Thanks a lot.
Mr. Antolini walks unsteadily down the hallway toward his

bedroom. Holden undresses to his boxers, CLICKS off the lamp,
and climbs under the covers. He’s way too tall for the couch,
and his feet hang over the edge.
INT. ANTOLINIS’ APARTMENT – LATER
Holden sleeps on the couch. Mr. Antolini sits on the floor next
to the couch, gently petting Holden’s head in the dark.
Holden JUMPS when he wakes to see his teacher petting him.
HOLDEN
What the hellya doing?
MR. ANTOLINI
Nothing! I’m simply sitting here,
admiring--
HOLDEN
What’re ya doing, anyway?
Holden frantically searches for his clothes. He finds his pants

but is so rattled he has trouble putting them on.
MR. ANTOLINI
How ‘bout keeping your voice down?
I’m simply sitting here—-
HOLDEN
I have to go, anyway.
MR. ANTOLINI
You have to go where?
Mr. Antolini tries to act causal and cool, but the near-slurring
of his words belies it. Holden finally dresses, but can’t find
his coat, forgetting it’s in the closet.
HOLDEN
I left my bags and all at the
station. I think I’d better go down
and get them. I have all my stuff
in them.
Mr. Antolini stands, trying to calm Holden without touching him.
MR. ANTOLINI
They’ll be there in the morning.
Go back to bed. I’m going to bed
myself. What’s the matter with you?
HOLDEN
Nothing’s the matter, it’s just
that all my money and stuff’s in
one of my bags.
MR. ANTOLINI
Don’t be ridiculous, Holden. Get
back in that bed. I’m going to bed
myself. The money will be there
safe and sound in the morn—-
HOLDEN
No, no kidding. I gotta get going.
I really do.
Holden goes the closet and throws it open, digging through coats
for his. Mr. Antolini watches, highball in hand.
MR. ANTOLINI
You’re a very, very strange boy.
HOLDEN
I know it. Good-bye sir. Thanks a
lot. No kidding.
Holden quickly pulls on his coat and steps through the door into
the hallway. He RINGS the elevator bell. Mr. Antolini stands in
his doorway.
MR. ANTOLINI
(muttering)
A very, very strange boy.
The elevator takes forever. An incredibly uncomfortable forever.

HOLDEN
I’m gonna start reading some good
books. I really am.
MR. ANTOLINI
Grab your bags and scoot right on
back. I’ll leave the door unlatched.
HOLDEN
Thanks a lot. G’bye!
Holden practically leaps onto the elevator when it arrives.
INT. ELEVATOR – SAME
Holden rides alone on the elevator as it takes him down. He

sweats profusely and wipes his forehead with his sleeve,
EXHALING a deep, relieved breath.
EXT. ANTOLINIS’ APARTMENT BUILDING – DAWN
It’s just getting light out as Holden steps outside the

Antolinis’ building. It’s still cold, but Holden relishes it
against his clammy skin.
INT. GRAND CENTRAL STATION – DAY
Holden sleeps on a bench. People step around him in the morning

rush hour. Some give him dirty looks, others looks of pity.
INT. DINER – DAY
Holden sits at counter of the same greasy spoon where he ate

with the nuns a day earlier. He chokes down a doughnut and
washes it down with coffee. He looks terrible.
EXT. FIFTH AVENUE - DAY
Holden walks the busy street. Christmas shoppers BUSTLE past and
around him as Santa Clauses GREET customers and Salvation Army
girls RING bells.
Holden stops at a red light with a group of other people waiting

to cross the street. The light changes to green and they hurry
across, but Holden goes tentatively. We hear him MUTTER a mantra
under his breath—-
HOLDEN
Allie, don’t let me disappear.
Holden shakes slightly as he crosses the street apart from the

pack of shoppers. The light changes before he crosses and
motorists HONK their horns.
When Holden steps onto the opposite curb he looks like he’s just
received the greatest gift of his life.
HOLDEN (CONT’D)
Thank you, Allie. Thank you.
SERIES OF SHOTS:
A) Holden wringing his hands as he crosses another street,

MUTTERING under his breath to Allie.
B) An exhausted Holden sitting on a park bench, trying to

catch his breath.
C) Holden sprinting across a busy street, dodging cars as they

HONK and swerve to avoid hitting him.
EXT. PHOEBE’S SCHOOL – DAY
Holden runs up to Phoebe’s school, taking the stairs two at a

time. He passes through a playground with painted white circles,
cages around the light bulbs, and basketball hoops without nets.
INT. PHOEBE’S SCHOOL – HALLWAY - SAME
Holden goes through a set of double doors into the hallway. It’s
empty except for a small black boy with a big wooden hall pass
sticking out of his hip pocket. Holden sits down on the first
step of a staircase and scribbles a note for Phoebe.
INSERT NOTE: Dear Phoebe, I can’t wait around till Wednesday any
more so I will probably hitchhike out west this afternoon. Meet
me at the Museum of Natural History near the door at quarter
past 12 if you can and I will give you your Christmas dough
back. I didn’t spend much. Love, Holden
BACK TO SCENE
Holden starts to walk up the stairs, folding the note in half

until it’s just a tiny wad of paper. He stops halfway up,
leaning on the wall and bending over double as if he’s going to
puke. He sits down and leans his head against the wall.
Holden closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. When he EXHALES
he opens his eyes and sees that someone’s written “FUCK YOU” on
the wall in pencil. He tries to rub it off with his hand, but
he’s worried that a teacher will think he wrote it. He rubs it
out quickly and hurries up the stairs.
INT. PHOEBE’S SCHOOL – OFFICE – SAME
Holden moseys up to the desk of an ancient SECRETARY sitting at

a typewriter.
HOLDEN
I’m Phoebe Caulfield’s brother.
She’s in 4B-1. Will you please
give her this note?
Holden hands over the folded-up wad of paper. The secretary

looks at him oddly, but takes it.
HOLDEN (CONT’D)
It’s very important because our
mother is sick and won’t have lunch
ready for Phoebe so she’ll have to
meet me and have lunch in a
drugstore.
SECRETARY
Of course, dear.
HOLDEN
Thank you, ma’am.
Holden nods to the secretary and hustles back down the hallway.
INT. PHOEBE’S SCHOOL – HALLWAY – SAME
As Holden is about to leave the school, he bends down to tie his

shoe and sees another “FUCK YOU” written low on the wall. He
turns his head to see if anyone’s looking, then tries to rub
this one off, too.
Holden rubs it, but to his chagrin this one’s scratched in. His
heart sinks. He finishes tying his shoe and slowly stands,
pushing through the doors forcefully.
EXT. CITY STREET – DAY
Holden stuff his hands deep in his pockets and walks, shoulders
scrunched, toward the museum. On his way he pauses at an empty
phone booth, but keeps going.
INT. MUSEUM OF NATURAL HISTORY – DAY
Holden enters the museum’s foyer and is surprised by the large

number of little kids running around. There seem to be very few
adults. Before he can even move toward the exhibits, two LITTLE
KIDS come running up to him.
FIRST KID
Where’re the mummies?
HOLDEN
(joking)
Mummies? What’re they?
FIRST KID
You know. The mummies. Them dead
guys. That get buried in them toons
and all.
HOLDEN
Tombs.
(beat)
How come you two aren’t in school?
FIRST KID
No school t’day.
Holden knows the kid is lying, but doesn’t call him on it. He
sees a bit of himself in the kid and plays along. He leads them
down a hallway toward the Egyptian exhibit.
HOLDEN
You two guys interested in mummies?
FIRST KID
Yeah.
HOLDEN
Can’t your friend talk?
FIRST KID
He ain’t my friend. He’s my brudda.
HOLDEN
Can’t he talk?
(to second kid)
Can’t you talk at all?
SECOND KID
Yeah. I don’t feel like it.
INT. MUSEUM OF NATURAL HISTORY – EGYPTIAN EXHIBIT – LATER
The Egyptian exhibit, a replica of a Pharoah’s tomb, is quiet

and empty. It’s spooky. The younger kid reaches for his
brother’s hand. The older kid swats it away, and the younger kid
grabs onto Holden’s sleeve. Holden smiles.
They take in the exhibit for a few seconds, then the younger kid
lets go of Holden’s sleeve and pulls at his brother’s hand.
SECOND KID
C’mon. I seen ‘em awreddy.
The younger kid turns and runs quickly back the way they came.
FIRST KID
He’s got a yella streak a mile wide.
(beat)
So long!
The older kid turns and follows his brother out of the exhibit,
leaving Holden alone. It’s peaceful in the exhibit. Holden even
reaches out and runs his hand along a sarcophagus.
As he’s taking in the exhibit, Holden sees something scribbled

under one of the glassed-in dioramas. He bends down and sees
“FUCK YOU” written in red crayon. Holden looks like he’s about
to cry, but before the tears come, he clutches at his stomach
again and runs out of the Egyptian exhibit.
INT. MUSUEM OF NATURAL HISTORY – BATHROOM – LATER
A father and son wash their hands at the sinks while Holden
VOMITS loudly in one of the stalls. The father quickly ushers
his son out.
INT. MUSEUM OF NATURAL HISTORY – LATER
Holden walks unsteadily into the museum’s foyer and looks at a

clock on the wall: 12:35. He looks nervously around, hoping that
the school secretary gave Phoebe the note.
Turning toward the main doors, Holden sees Phoebe through the
glass doors. She’s wearing a blue coat and his red hunting hat
and holding an adult’s suitcase that’s way too heavy for her.
She scans the sidewalk for her brother. Holden rushes down the
stairs.
EXT. MUSEUM OF NATURAL HISTORY – DAY
Phoebe turns as Holden bursts through the museum’s doors. She’s

a little out of breath from lugging the suitcase.
PHOEBE
Hi.
HOLDEN
I thought maybe you weren’t coming.
What the hell’s in the bag?
She puts the suitcase down with a THUMP.
PHOEBE
My clothes. I’m going with you.
HOLDEN
What?
PHOEBE
All I have in it is two dresses and
my moccasins and my underwear and
socks and some other things. Feel
it. It isn’t heavy.
She sees the despondent look on his face and she knows.
PHOEBE (CONT’D)
Can’t I go with you? Holden?
Can’t I? Please?
HOLDEN
No. Shut up.
PHOEBE
Why can’t I? Please, Holden!
I won’t even take the suitcase if
you don’t want me to.
HOLDEN
You can’t take anything because
you’re not going. I’m going alone.
Phoebe pulls at her brother’s hand.
PHOEBE
Please, Holden. Please let me go.
You won’t even—-
HOLDEN
(sharply)
You’re not going. Now shut up!
Gimme that bag.
Holden picks up the suitcase with one hand, and for the briefest
of moments, it looks like he’s going to hit Phoebe with his
other hand. She CRIES. He reaches out his other hand to her.
HOLDEN (CONT’D)
C’mon.
She turns her back on him with a HUFF.

HOLDEN (CONT’D)
C’mon, now. I’m not going anywhere.
I changed my mind. So stop crying.
(beat)
I’ll walk you back to school.
C’mon, now. You’ll be late.
Wordlessly, Phoebe pulls off the hunting hat and chucks in right
in Holden’s face. She turns her back on him again. He picks the
hat up off the ground and sticks it in his coat pocket.
HOLDEN (CONT’D)
C’mon. I’ll walk you back to school.
PHOEBE
I’m not going back to school.
HOLDEN
You have to go back to school.
C’mon now, let’s go. In the first
place, I’m not going away anywhere,
I told you. I’m going home as soon
as you go back to school. First I’m
gonna go down to the station to get
my bags, and then I’m gonna go
straight—-
PHOEBE
I said I’m not going back to school.
You can do what you want to do, but
I’m not going back to school. So
shut up.
Holden reaches out and places a hand on Phoebe’s shoulder, but

she shrugs him off. He EXHALES a loud sigh.
HOLDEN
Listen, do you want to go for a
walk? Down to the zoo? If I let you
not go back to school this
afternoon and go for a walk instead,
will you cut out this crazy stuff?
Will you go back to school tomorrow
like a good girl?
PHOEBE
I may and I may not.
Before Holden can answer, Phoebe sprints down the stairs and
across Central Park West without even looking. Thankfully the
street is empty. Holden follows his sister across the street and
into the park.
EXT. CENTRAL PARK ZOO – DAY
The zoo is mostly empty because of the winter weather, but a few
families and couples roam, pointing at the animals and taking
photographs.
Holden finds Phoebe at the sea lions’ swimming pool, watching a

zookeeper throw fish to them. Holden walks up behind Phoebe and
puts his hands on her shoulders, but she squirms away. They
stand like that for a moment or two-—her in front, him behind, a
person-size gap between them.
EXT. CENTRAL PARK ZOO – LATER
Holden walks on one side of the path and Phoebe on the other.
They pass the polar bear pen, where a little boy and his father
wait for the animals to appear, but they’re inside.
EXT. CENTRAL PARK – LATER
Holden and Phoebe leave the zoo and walk through one of the
pedestrian tunnels. Holden playfully takes a hold of the belt at
the back of Phoebe’s coat, but she pulls it back.
PHOEBE
Keep your hands to yourself, if you
don’t mind.
But Phoebe’s voice belies her attitude—-she’s not nearly as

upset with Holden as she was even a few minutes before.
EXT. CENTRAL PARK CAROUSEL – LATER
Brother and sister approach the carousel, which plays OLD-TIMEY

MUSIC as it spins around and the horses go up and down. A
handful of kids ride as their parents wait outside, sitting on

benches. Confused, Phoebe turns to Holden, her anger seemingly
forgotten.
PHOEBE
I thought the carousel was closed
in the wintertime.
HOLDEN
Maybe it’s because it’s Christmas.
Phoebe doesn’t respond, as though she forgot she was supposed to

be mad at him.
HOLDEN (CONT’D)
Do you want to go for a ride on it?
PHOEBE
I’m too big.
HOLDEN
No, you’re not. Go on. I’ll wait
for ya. Go on.
Without waiting for a response, Holden walks up to the ticket

window and buys Phoebe a ticket. He turns to hand it to her and
she’s standing right next to him.
HOLDEN (CONT’D)
Here. Wait a second.
(beat)
Take the rest of your dough, too.
Holden tries to press Phoebe’s money into her other hand, but
she shakes her head.
PHOEBE
You keep it. Keep it for me. Please.
Holden crams the remaining bills back into his pocket.
PHOEBE (CONT’D)
Aren’t you gonna ride, too?
HOLDEN
Maybe I will the next time. I’ll
watch ya. Got your ticket?
PHOEBE
Yes.
HOLDEN
Go ahead, then. I’ll be this bench
right over here. I’ll watch ya.
Holden walks over to a bench as Phoebe goes to the carousel. She

sits down on a big, brown, beat-up looking horse. The carousel
starts, playing a jazzy rendition of “Smoke Gets in Your Eyes.”
As the carousel spins, the half-dozen kids (including Phoebe)

reach out to grab the gold ring suspended just beyond their
grasp. Holden sits peacefully, calmly, the most serene he’s been
since we met him at Pencey.
When the ride is over, Phoebe climbs off her horse and runs over
to where Holden sits. He hands her a few of her own bills, which
she takes.
PHOEBE
You ride once, too, this time.
HOLDEN
No, I’ll just watch ya, I think.
Here. Get some more tickets.
PHOEBE
I’m not mad at you anymore.
HOLDEN
I know. Hurry up. It’s gonna start
again.
Phoebe nods, but before she runs off she leans in and KISSES
Holden gently on the cheek. She steps back and holds her hand
out, feeling raindrops.
PHOEBE
It’s starting to rain.
Phoebe reaches into Holden’s coat pocket and pulls out his red
hunting hat. She unfolds it and places it on his head.
HOLDEN
Don’t you want it?
PHOEBE
You can wear it a while.
HOLDEN
Okay. Hurry up, though. You’re
gonna miss your ride. You won’t get
your own horse or anything.
But she doesn’t leave.
PHOEBE
Did you mean what you said? You
really aren’t going away? Are you
really coming home afterwards?
HOLDEN
Yeah.
(beat)
Hurry up, now. It’s starting.
Phoebe turns and runs back to the carousel, handing the operator
her ticket just in time. She walks all the way around the
carousel before settling back on her old brown horse. She waves
to Holden. He waves back.
As the carousel starts up again, the rain comes down in buckets.

The other parents huddle under the carousel’s roof, but Holden
stays on the bench, getting soaked to the skin.
He doesn’t care, though. Tears stream down his face and mix with
the rain. He smiles wide, a genuine smile. He’s happy.
FADE OUT.

The Catcher in The Rye

Uploaded by

Document Information

Original Title

Copyright

Available Formats

Share this document

Share or Embed Document

Sharing Options

Did you find this document useful?

Is this content inappropriate?

Copyright:

Available Formats

The Catcher in The Rye

Uploaded by

Copyright:

Available Formats

THE CATCHER IN THE RYE

Based on the novel by J.D. Salinger

EXT. FOOTBALL FIELD – AFTERNOON

Two teams of prep schoolers in 1950s football gear SMASH into

As the offense huddles, a defender looks past the goalposts, up

EXT. THOMSEN HILL – SAME

A Revolutionary War cannon on wheels stands guard over the game

Holden leaps to his feet and scrunches his face, thinking.

EXT. PENCEY CAMPUS – SAME

Holden runs through the campus of a beautiful East Coast prep

Cars HONK and swerve to avoid him. Holden slips on a patch of

EXT. SPENCER HOUSE – SAME

Holden safely reaches the other side of the street and

INT. SPENCER HOUSE - SAME

As Mrs. Spencer hangs Holden’s coat in a hall closet, he runs

Mrs. Spencer motions down a hallway that leads to the rear of

INT. SPENCER HOUSE – MR. SPENCER’S ROOM – CONTINUOUS

The door to Mr. Spencer’s room is half-open and Holden KNOCKS

MR. SPENCER (CONT’D)

Holden trails off and a moment of silence lingers between them.

Mr. Spencer nods vigorously.

Mr. Spencer COUGHS violently, spitting into a handkerchief.

Mr. Spencer starts nodding again. He pretends to pinch his nose,

Holden wiggles from cheek to cheek on the bed.

Holden is lost in thought. He wrings his hunting hat in his hands.

MR. SPENCER (CONT’D)

Suddenly, the urge to leave overcomes Holden’s need for closure.

Holden gently places a reassuring hand on Mr. Spencer’s shoulder.

After a moment’s pause, Holden shakes Mr. Spencer’s hand.

Holden practically runs from Mr. Spencer’s room, shutting the

MR. SPENCER (CONT’D)(O.S.)

INT. PENCEY DORM – LATER

He flings the door open and steps into his room.

INT. HOLDEN’S DORM ROOM – SAME

Holden doesn’t look up from his book to acknowledge Ackley, who

Holden keeps reading.

Ackley walks slowly around Holden’s room, picking up personal

Holden SIGHS loudly, annoyed.

Ackley does another circuit of the room, picking up and putting

Holden gropes around in front of him without getting up.

Ackley scoops a pair of scissors off Holden’s roommate’s desk and

Just as Ackley finishes denouncing Holden’s roommate, the door

broad-shouldered, his cheeks are flushed and snowflakes have

Ignoring Ackley (who scowls at him), Stradlater steps over to

Stradlater goes over to his closet and hangs up his coat.

Finally noticing Ackley, Stradlater smiles at him.

INT. WASHROOM – SAME

One side of the tiled washroom is taken up by ten sinks with

Holden looks down at Stradlater’s RAZOR on the sink: it’s rusty

Holden doesn’t answer. He jumps off the washbowl and does a

Without warning-—he’s not upset at Stradlater, just horsing

Holden jumps up from the sink, incredulous. He paces the washroom,

Stradlater rolls his eyes, sorry he mentioned her. He puts tonic

Stradlater isn’t listening. He combs his hair again and again.

Holden, lost in thought, walks over to the bathroom window, but

Stradlater finishes his beauty routine and packs up his toilet

Holden turns and realizes Stradlater’s gone. He hustles after him.

INT. HOLDEN’S DORM ROOM – CONTINUOUS

Stradlater puts on Holden’s hound’s tooth jacket and Holden winces

Stradlater winks at Holden as he grabs a pack of cigarettes off

Holden doesn’t answer.

Stradlater tosses Holden a mock salute as he straightens his tie

C) Holden stares at the blank page.