Chapter 3

Let me tell you one thing, I'm the most terrific liar you ever saw in your life. Like, if I'm on the way to buy a magazine and someone asks me where I'm going, I'd probably say I was on my way to the opera or some place like that. It's awful, it really is. When I told Spencer that I had to go and get some gym equipment - that was a complete lie. Boy, I can't help it.
Anyway, it was pretty nice to get back to my room after I'd left old Spencer, because everyone was still down at the game, and the heat was on in our room for a goddamn change. After a while I began reading a book that I took out of the library by mistake. It was them who gave me the goddamn wrong book and I didn't notice. I thought it was going to stink, but it was actually a very good book. I'm quite illiterate, but I do read a lot. My favourite author is D.B., my older brother who's out in Hollywood at the moment. Anyway, I'd only read about three pages of the book when I heard someone coming through the shower curtains. I knew straight away that it was Robert Ackey, this guy that roomed right next to me. About eighty-five times a day Ackley would barge in on me. He hardly ever went anywhere, he was probably the only guy apart from me who wasn't down at the game. He was a very perculiar guy. He was one of these extremely tall, round-shouldered guys - he was about six four - with lousy teeth. He was stood on the goddamn shower ledge taking a good look to see if Stradlater was around. He hated his guts. He damn near hated everybody's guts. After he'd walked around the room for a bit he started asking me about the goddamn fencing match. Boy, he can get on my nerves sometimes.
After he made himself at home, he started cutting his nails all over the goddamn floor! What's the hell is that about? Then I was trying to convince him that Stradlater wasn't the sunovabitch that he thought he was. Boy, he sure does have it in for him. All of a sudden Stradlater barged in as if he was in a big hurry. He was always in a big hurry. Soon after Ackley left - which didn't suprise me. Stradlater was asking me if he could borrow my goddamn hound's-tooth jacket for his goddamn date. He said he was going to have a quick shave, so he walked out the room with his toilet kit and towel under his arm. No shirt on or anything. He always walked around with no shirt on and a bare torso because he thought he had a damn good build. Which I have to admit, he did.