I walked out to the lobby, Holden thinking about Jane. Our families’ summer homes in Maine, we lived next door to one another, and I met her after my mother confronted her mother about a Doberman pinscher that frequently peed on our lawn. Jane and I became close—Jane was the only person that ever showed Allie’s baseball glove. One day, Jane’s alcoholic stepfather came out to the porch where Jane and I were playing checkers and asked Jane for cigarettes; Jane refused to answer him, and, when he left, she began to cry. I held her, kissing her face and comforting her. When i held Jane’s hand, I remember, “all you knew was, you were happy. You really were.” I suddenly felt upset, and I returned to my room. I noticed that the lights in the “perverts’” rooms were out. I was still wide awake, so I head downstairs and grabbed a taxi.