Nine Stories

by J. D. Salinger

>> She looked over at Mary Jane. <<>> Mary Jane giggled. She was lying on her stomach on the couch, her chin on the armrest, facing Eloise. Her drink was on the floor, within reach.

  <<>> She turned her head slightly toward Mary Jane. <<>> <<
  <<>> Eloise looked up at the ceiling again. <<
  He said, `Poor Uncle Wiggily.' He meant my ankle. Poor old Uncle Wiggily, he called it...

  . God, he was nice.>>>

  <<>> Mary Jane said.

  <<>>

  <<>>

  <<>> Eloise raised her head, lifted her drink from her chest, and drank from it.

  <<>> <<>>

  <<>>

  <<>> Eloise said. <<>> Mary Jane giggled. <<
  <<>> <<
  <<>> Mary Jane nodded, but Eloise didn't look over to get the nod.

  <<
  Then he took his hand away and told the conductor to throw his shoulders back. He told him if there was one thing he couldn't stand it was a man who didn't look proud of his uniform. The conductor just told him to go back to sleep.>>> Eloise reflected a moment, then said, <<>> <<>>

  <<>> <<>>

  <<>> said Eloise.

  <<>>

  Eloise laughed suddenly, from her diaphragm. <<
  He said that when he'd get his first promotion, instead of getting stripes he'd have his sleeves taken away from him. He said when he'd get to be a general, he'd be stark naked. All he'd be wearing would be a little infantry button in his navel.>>> Eloise looked over at Mary Jane, who wasn't laughing. <<>> <<>> <<>> <<>> said Mary Jane.

  <<>> Eloise paused to drink from her glass and to think. <<
  Take my word.>>>

  Mary Jane, looking depressed, raised her chin from the armrest of the couch. For a change, she supported her chin on her forearm. She thought over Eloise's advice. <<
  <<>>

  <<>> Mary Jane said innocently.

  <<>> <<>> Mary Jane said.

  <<>> Mary Jane shook her head.

  <<>>

  <<>>

  <<>> <<>> <<>> <<
  Killed and everything.>>>

  <<>> Mary Jane pushed her chin farther forward over the edge of her forearm.

  <<>> she said.

  <<
  Please.>>>

  <<>>

  <<>>

  Eloise finished her drink and replaced the empty glass upright on her chest. <<
  <<>>

  <<>> Eloise began to cry. She put her hand around the empty glass on her chest to steady it.

  Mary Jane slid off the couch and, on her knees, took three steps over to Eloise and began to stroke her forehead. <<>> <<>> Eloise said.

  <<
  The front door opened.

  <<>> <<>>

  <<>> Mary Jane s
tood up, losing and recovering her balance, and left the room.

  She was back in less than two minutes, with Ramona running ahead of her. Ramona ran as flatfooted as possible, trying to get the maximum noise out of her open galoshes.

  <<
  Eloise, still lying on her back on the floor, was using her handkerchief. She spoke into it, addressing Ramona. <<>> <<
  Eloise put away her handkerchief and hoisted herself to a sitting position. <<>> On her knees, looking under the table for her cigarettes, Mary Jane said, <<>> <<>>

  <<>> <<
  <<>> Eloise said to her.

  <<>> <<
  Then you're to go straight to bed. I'll be up later. Go on, now, please. Take these with you.>>> Ramona slowly giant-stepped her way out of the room.

  <<>> Mary Jane carried a cigarette over to Eloise. <<
  What an imagination!>>>

  <<
  The whole damn place smells like orange juice.>>>

  At five minutes past seven, the phone rang. Eloise got up from the window seat and felt in the dark for her shoes. She couldn't find them. In her stocking feet, she walked steadily, almost languidly, toward the phone. The ringing didn't disturb Mary Jane, who was asleep on the couch, face down.

  <<
  <<>> She listened. <<>> She listened again. <<>> She hung up.

  She walked, less steadily, back into the living room. At the window seat, she poured what was left in the bottle of Scotch into her glass. It made about a finger. She drank it off, shivered, and sat down.

  When Grace turned on the light in the dining room, Eloise jumped. Without getting up, she called in to Grace, <<>> Grace appeared in the dining-room light but didn't come forward. <<>> she said.

  <<>>

  <<>> <<>>

  <<>> <<>>

  <<>>

  <<>> Grace stood for a moment, then said, <<
  Eloise left the living room and climbed the stairs, which were lighted very faintly by the overglow from the dining room. One of Ramona's galoshes was lying on the landing.

  Eloise picked it up and threw it, with as much force as possible, over the side of the banister; it struck the foyer floor with a violent thump.

  She snapped on the light in Ramona's room and held on to the switch, as if for support. She stood still for a moment looking at Ramona. Then she let go of the light switch and went quickly over to the bed. <<>> Ramona was sleeping far over on one side of the bed, her right buttock off the edge.

  Her glasses were on a little Donald Duck night table, folded neatly and laid stems down.

  <<>>

  The child awoke with a sharp intake of breath. Her eyes opened wide, but she narrowed them almost at once. <<>> <<>> <<>>

  <<>> <<
  <<>>

  <<>>

  <<>>

  <<>> Eloise raised her voice to a shriek. <<>> Ramona, extremely frightened, just looked up at Eloise.

  <<>> Eloise grabbed Ramona's ankles and half lifted and half pulled her over to the middle of the bed. Ramona neither struggled nor cried; she let herself be moved without actually submitting to it.

  <<>> Ramona closed her eyes.

  Eloise went over to the light switch and flicked it off. But she stood for a long time in the doorway. Then, suddenly, she rushed, in the dark, over to the night table, banging her knee against the foot of the bed, but too full of purpose to feel pain. She picked up Ramona's glasses and, holding them in both hands, pressed them against her cheek.

  Tears rolled down her face, wetting the lenses. <<
  She stooped over, losing her balance, and began to tuck in the blankets of Ramona's bed. Ramona was awake. She was crying and had been crying. Eloise kissed her wetly on the mouth and wiped the hair out of her eyes and then left the room.

  She went downstairs, staggering now very badly, and wakened Mary Jane.

  <<>> said Mary Jane, sitting bolt upright on the couch.

  <<>> Eloise shook Mary Jane's arm. <<>>

  Just Before the War with the Eskimos

  FIVE STRAIGHT SATURDAY MORNINGS, Ginnie Mannox had played tennis at the East Side Courts with Selena Graff, a classmate at Miss Basehoar's. Ginnie openly considered Selena the biggest drip at Miss Basehoar's--a school ostensibly abounding with fair-sized drips--but at the same time she had never known anyone like Selena for bringing fresh cans of tennis balls. Selena's father made them or something. (At dinner one night, for the edification of the entire Mannox family, Ginnie had conjured up a vision of dinner over at the Graffs'; it involved a perfect servant coming around to everyone's left with, instead of a glass of tomato juice, a can of tennis balls.) But this business of dropping Selena off at her house after tennis and then getting stuck--every single time--for the whole cab fare was getting on Ginnie's nerves. After all, taking the taxi home from the courts instead of the bus had been Selena's idea. On the fifth Saturday, however, as the cab started north in York Avenue, Ginnie suddenly spoke up.

  <<>>

  <<>> asked Selena, who was busy feeling the floor of the cab with her hand. <<>> she moaned.

  Despite the warm May weather, both girls were wearing topcoats over their shorts.

  <<>> <<>>

  <<d Ginnie, who wanted no part of Selena's gratitude.

  <<>>

  Ginnie decided to come right out with it. The cab was nearly at Selena's street. <<>> Selena looked first amazed, then hurt. <<>> she asked innocently.

  <<>> <<>> Selena asked unpleasantly.

  Sometimes Ginnie felt like killing Selena. <<>> <<>> <<>> <<>> Selena's attitude defied clemency.

  <<>> In hostile silence, the girls stared out of opposite windows until the cab pulled up in front of Selena's apartment house. Then Selena, who was seated nearest the curb, let herself out. Just barely leaving the cab door open, she walked briskly and obliviously, like visiting Hollywood royalty, into the building. Ginnie, her face burning, paid the fare.

  She then collected her tennis things--racket, hand towel, and sun hat--and followed Selena. At fifteen, Ginnie was about five feet nine in her 9-B tennis shoes, and as she entered the lobby, her self-conscious rubber-soled awkwardness lent her a dangerous amateur quality. It made Selena prefer to watch the indicator dial over the elevator.

  <<
  Selena turned. <<