Catcher in the Rye Creative Writing Essay

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Catcher in the Rye Creative Writing After I left the institute, things were normal. I tried military school for a few weeks but I couldn’t take it. I told my parents to let me leave and I suppose that the whole situation with the mental hospital made them take the things I say more seriously. They were never home though, parties every night until 4 or 5 am, then they would sleep all day and go to another party at night. By the time I came back Phoebe was 17 and was barely ever home. She spent most of her time at school or with her phony boyfriend. I didn’t even care to learn his name. I told her that boys were no good and that she should stay away from them, but she wouldn’t listen. She thought that she was grown up and was determined to be independent if it killed her. He was a year or two older then Phoebe, 18 or 19. He had a license and Phoebe says that he borrows his parent’s car. I told her that he wasn’t a safe driver and that I could drive her and him to places and I wouldn’t even say a word or anything, but she wouldn’t let me. Truthfully, the way he acted, I don’t think they spent much time driving. It would surprise me if they drove more than 200 feet away from the house before they parked on the side of the road and did god knows what. Her boyfriend reminded me of Stradlater too much. He was tall, handsome and smelled like my father’s cheap cologne. He was as cool as they come, and he knew it. He would drive up the driveway and give the car too much gas and then have to break quickly to avoid hitting the garage. He would pull down his visor and look in the mirror, run his fingers through his hair and walk up to the door, always the same way, stepping on every other step. He performed this exact routine every night, even if Phoebe wasn’t allowed to leave. The routine was the phoniest thing about him, it was almost rehearsed. I’m sure

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