Catcher In Rye Novels & Stories

Charlie leaned closer to explain. "It's simple. Everyone in New York knows Ryder Bates to be the son of one of the richest investors in the country. He's basically a multi millionaire without even lifting a finger. Now, everyone also knows that Ryder Bates is an incurable player. Come on! The tabloids have a field day deciding which of his scandals to use as an headliner." Charlie paused for a while. "And? What's the Ryder trap?" "The Ryder trap is basically when you fall for Ryder Bates. He entices you with his sweet words and all but after sleeping with you for a maximum of three times. He's basically done. The moment you kiss him, you're basically hooked"

But how will I deal with all my problems ? Out of nowhere an idea pops into my mind. I suddenly pluck out one of the candles from the table. It won't be that bad. Let me see whether this can help me. I stretch my right arm and tilt the candle slowly. I wince and fist my palm as the candle wax falls on the warm skin of my arm, causing a stinging sensation in the area. Tears start to form in my eyes as memories of my high school life flash through my mind. People calling me stutter boy, nerd, worthless, stupid, disgusting. I hear it every day. And I know it's true. I'm worthless and disgusting.

I noticed Azzie freeze in her spot after spotting the young male cashier. “Aidin.” She whispered. I looked between the two of them as they watched each other. I grinned while looking towards the floor. “Hi, is that everything?” He asked, still watching my baby sister. I nodded before smirking at the young male. “Actually, no. I was wondering if you liked my baby sister.” He coughed in surprise as his cheeks turned a deep shade of pink. Azzie smacked my arm nervously. “I–uh…” He stumbled over his words. I could tell that he was definitely British based off of his accent. Then I heard the shop door open, Koa and his English friend Thomas entering the small boutique. “Tommy.” The young male gre

I can’t remember turning it on. I bend down to pick up the book. It was his favorite, ‘The Catcher in the Rye’ by J. D. Salinger. He took it everywhere he went. The day I had to collect his things at the hospital, it was just this and an old jacket that once belonged to my dad. The book, old and worn, has scribbled handwriting inside, like it was written in a hurry before the thought was lost. I close my eyes and open it on a random page. I read the first quote I can find:

It should be a downhill stroll at this point except for one major kick in the nuts—the last batter is the other team’s best hitter. I can tell the second I hear the crack of the bat that this is going to be a hard hit. I race to catch it, all of the adrenaline and focus I’ve been storing up propelling my body forward, faster than I thought I could run. Every thought of the past few months that I’ve used to motivate me comes racing along with me—Jane above everything else. I make a diving catch, snagging the ball.

I passed Polly in the hallway. She was pushing a handcart piled with ten or so boxes, arms trembling. Seeing me, she stopped and lowered her head to let me pass. "Distribution going okay?" I asked. "…So-so," her voice hoarse. I nodded and walked on. After a few steps, I glanced back. She was still there, hands on the cart, shoulders slumped. The snowlight outside cast pale shadows on her face—white, almost bloodless. The next day, my assistant mentioned casually while dropping off documents, "Mr. Bassett… the employees secretly created a group chat. They call it the 'Cherry Victims Alliance.'"

“That you really can’t tell what somebody’s like just from their family or how much money they have.” As she said it— Elliot came to mind. The chauffeured car. The expensive-looking watch. The perfectly white handkerchief. But also— pancakes for lunch. His first bus ride. Three slices of cheap pizza with Jax and the others. Maybe— that was just how people were. ◇ At lunch, Riley opened her locker. She pulled out a small paper bag. “What’s that?” Nora asked, glancing over. “A handkerchief.” “I can see that.”

The day before the college entrance exam, the class belle everyone adored stepped onto the podium. "I wasn't going to tell anyone, but I couldn't bear to let you all miss this opportunity. There's a hidden rule in this year's college entrance exam system. If you soak your answer sheet, it'll be transferred for a special manual review by top universities." I froze, staring at her for a long while before finally blinking dumbly. In my previous life, those exact words had been enough to make someone as dull as me lose my composure for the first time in my life. I ran to get the teacher and stopped the entire class from soaking their answer sheets. In the end, the class belle failed the exam