I took the elevator up to my apartment. Luckily for me, the regular elevator operator is gone, and I convince the new one, who doesn’t recognize me, that I wanted to visit the Dicksteins, who live across the hall from the me.

I snuck into my apartment and looked for Phoebe, but she wasn’t in her room. I tiptoed to D. B.’s room, because Phoebe likes to sleep there when D. B. is in Hollywood. There Phoebe was sleeping peacefully, children, unlike adults, always look peaceful when they are asleep. As I watched Phoebe sleep, I read through her schoolbooks. She has signed her name “Phoebe Weatherfield Caulfield,” even though her middle name is Josephine. I enjoyed reading the notes to friends, the curious questions, and the random imaginative jottings she had scribbled on the pages.

I woke Phoebe up, and she was glad to see me. Bursting with energy, she talked about one thing after another: her school play (in which she plays Benedict Arnold), a movie she has just seen, a movie D. B. is working on, a boy at school who bullies her, and the fact that mum and dad were at a party and won’t come home until later. But after her enthusiastic flurry of conversation, she realized that I was at home two days early and must have been kicked out of school. Over and over, she repeats that father will “kill” me. I tried to justify my behaviour, but she refused to listen and covered her head with a pillow. I left the room to get some cigarettes.