Adaptation by Yeji Park

The Catcher in the Rye: Adaptation

WRITER SAYS ... 

Due to midterm and AP, I did not have enough time to enjoy The Catcher in the Rye. For the course assignment - to write a short adaptation from one part of this book - I spent only two hours or like that in writing :-( Maybe if I have enough time someday, I'll start the book again, and revise this writing to be a better adaptation...

                                                                                                                                                                                                  

Mr. Sung’s office was damn large. There was a big display standing at one side of the wide wall, which was full of goddam trophies. That was a real phony. The man never plays sports with us. All he do during the class is to shout the hell loud “Class, rally!” No one ever followed his instructions, unless he becomes mad and explode, boom, bang. And all the trophies the volleyball team achieved – if there is only one damn truth in this world, it is that trophies are all gained by the players, not that skeleton-faced old man.

I looked up at Sung. He was folding his arms and rested his legs on a table. That’s another reason I hate that man. He must be under an illusion that he is not that old, that forty-or-something-like-that aged man has freedom to sit in a way twelve-years-old boy may do. Staring into my eyes back, Sung muttered, “Come in, girl.” He was always muttering, outside class. He thinks that muttering is effective as hell, to scare students. Hope he stops all of his foolish delusions. It got on your nerves sometimes.

“Hello, sir,” I said. “I got your words from Mina. You didn’t have to do all that. I’d have come over to say good-bye anyway.” Mina is one of the few nice girls in this goddam school. She is small, cute, and makes these old men remind of their own little girls and smile. Mr. Sung asked Mina to ask me to stop by and say good-bye before I leave here.

“Have a seat there, girl,” old Sung said. He pointed over a small chair next to the damn shining display standing.

I sat down on it. “So what, um, do you want to talk to me?”

He started getting serious as hell. “So you’re leaving, huh, this afternoon?”

“Yes, sir, I guess I am.”

Sung closed his eyes and again muttered something. Damn mutter.

“Pardon, sir?”

“I’m thinking what piece of advice shall I give to you before you leave… Let me talk about this, the rules, okay? So… what do you think, about this rule?”

I hate Sung using word like “okay”. That makes him be seen damn young and cool. And let him stop asking me damn questions. Sung is the last person who listens to others’ opinion; I know it, he knows that. Pretending to be open and 수용적 – that’s so phony. I shook my head. “I’m not sure, sir.”

“Well, then I’ll tell you my frank opinion… Rule is what everyone can, and should, keep. It should accompany everyone’s consents, but beforehand, should satisfy the basic morals. The absolute morals, if I say. True ethics that can be applied everywhere. Understand?” He looked into my eyes, and slowly repeated the word, “A-B-S-O-L-U-T-E.”

Fuck up. There’s nothing such like A-B-S-O-L-U-T-E morals. Morals may be partly true, but it isn’t all true. Maybe in the world there are some people who don’t give a damn to kill their wife or knock off banks. So how many people will not give a damn for not keeping trivial-as-hell rules, such as “You should return to your dorm before 7PM”, “You should not sleep during self-study period time”, or “You should open all the doors of your wardrobe before houseparent comes for cleaning inspection”? Foolish rules. But anyway, I nodded my head. “Yes, sir, rules.” I smiled gently, in hope that he would just shut up and let me leave this fucking room. But – as expected – he was not going to stop there.

“What’s the matter with you, girl?” old Sung said. He said it pretty tough, too, for him. “How many penalty points did you receive this month?”

“Well… I’m not sure, but I remember something like twenty-eight, I guess.”

“Twenty-eight. And your total point is?”

“I guess eighty-nine, sir.” I moved my ass a little bit. The chair was damn rocky.

“I decided to withdraw you from the school because you knew absolutely nothing about community life and importance of rules.”

“I know that, sir. I’m a total ass. You couldn’t help it.”

“Absolutely nothing.” He muttered. Then he muttered again, “A-B-S-O-L-U-T-E-L-Y nothing.” I hope he just stops repeating the same phrase over and over. Damn sarcastic for Sung, let us give a warm applaud for him

“Don’t you have anything to say about this, girl? That you are regretful, or you have anything that you newly learned about social life, like that…?”

I know what a bullshit he wants to hear from me, so I started to shot the bull for a while. That I was a real moron, I have no caring mind for people living with me, I think that I started to understand how Sung feel about me and how Sung wants to help me get out of this swamp of sin… (Boy, Sung really loved that praise. Swamp of sin. What a grand word.) That kind of stuff. The old bull.

The funny thing is, though, I was sort of thinking of something else while I shot the bull. I was thinking about tree saplings that I planted along the road when I received special training for gaining forty penalty points. I was suddenly curious; what was the name of that tree? Hope that I can someday see those saplings fully grown. Thinking about those trees was quite helpful to bear Sung’s presence. It’s funny that I don’t need to think too hard when talking to teachers. All of a sudden, though, Sung interrupted my bullshit.

“How do you feel about all this, girl? I’d be very interested to know. Very interested.”

“Well, I’m not sure… All this is not yet familiar to me. Maybe next Sunday, I’d realize the situation much clearly… When I don’t need to come back to school. But well, right now, I think I cannot give you clear answer.” Then I shrugged my shoulder. I knew that this wasn’t the sugary kind Sung would love to hear, but I was getting irritated about continuing inquisitions. I glanced the display stand next to me. I suddenly had this strong feeling to kick the stand and let all those glittering trophies fall to the floor. But I judged it would be wiser not to do so.

Sung sighed. That sigh made me unable to bear more; it was me, not him, who wanted to make that goddam sigh. “I gotta go, sir. My mother will be here within two hours. I need to pack my things and get prepared to leave.” I stood up and walked toward the door. Sung sighed again. What the hell.

After I shut the door and started my way to the dorm, I think I heard something. Maybe Sung shouted, “Be good girl!” Hope that I heard wrong. Be a good girl as hell. I’ll never yell “Be good girl!” to anybody, even to a three-years-old sniffling lady. It sounds terrible, when you think about it.