A Separate Peace.pdf - Southwest High School

43trembling, goaded egotism he could no longer contain, the furious arrogance which sprang outnow at the mere hint of opposition from someone he had at last found whom he could considerinferior to himself. I realized that all this explained him, and it wasn't the words he said whichangered me. It was only that he was so ignorant, that he knew nothing of the gypsy summer,nothing of the loss I was fighting to endure, of skylarks and splashes and petal-bearing breezes,he had not seen Leper's snails or the Charter of the Super Suicide Society; he shared nothing,knew nothing, felt nothing as Phineas had done."You, Quackenbush, don't know anything about who I am." That launched me, and I had togo on and say, "or anything else.""Listen you maimed son-of-a-bitch . . ."I hit him hard across the face. I didn't know why for an instant; it was almost as though Iwere maimed. Then the realization that there was someone who was flashed over me.Quackenbush had clamped his arm in some kind of tight wrestling grip around my neck, andI was glad in this moment not to be a cripple. I reached over, grasped the back of his sweatshirt, wrenched, and it came away in my hand. I tried to throw him off, he lunged at the sametime, and we catapulted into the water.The dousing extinguished Quackenbush's rage, and he let go of me. I scrambled back ontothe float, still seared by what he had said. "The next time you call anybody maimed," I bit offthe words harshly so he would understand all of them, "you better make sure they are first.""Get out of here, Forrester," he said bitterly from the water, "you're not wanted around here,Forrester. Get out of here."I fought that battle, that first skirmish of a long campaign, for Finny. Until the back of myhand cracked against Quackenbush's face I had never pictured myself in the role of Finny'sdefender, and I didn't suppose that he would have thanked me for it now. He was too loyal toanything connected with himself—his roommate, his dormitory, his class, his school, outwardin vastly expanded circles of loyalty until I couldn't imagine who would be excluded. But itdidn't feel exactly as though I had done it for Phineas. It felt as though I had done it for myself.If so I had little profit to show as I straggled back toward the dormitory dripping wet, withthe job I had wanted gone, temper gone, mind circling over and over through the whole souredafternoon. I knew now that it was fall all right; I could feel it pressing clammily against my wetclothes, an unfriendly, discomforting breath in the air, an edge of wintery chill, air thatshriveled, soon to put out the lights on the countryside. One of my legs wouldn't stoptrembling, whether from cold or anger I couldn't tell. I wished I had hit him harder.Someone was coming toward me along the bent, broken lane which led to the dormitory, alane out of old London, ancient houses on either side leaning as though soon to tumble into it,cobblestones heaving underfoot like a bricked-over ocean squall—a figure of great heightadvanced down them toward me. It could only be Mr. Ludsbury; no one else could pass overthese stones with such contempt for the idea of tripping.