Free Thirteen Reasons Why by Jay Asher

turn comes.
    Because my turn is coming. I know that. And I want it to be over with.
    What did I do to you, Hannah?

    While I wait for her first words, I stare out the window. It’s darker outside than in here. When I pull my gaze back and focus my eyes, I can see my own reflection in the glass.
    And I look away.
    I glance down at the Walkman on the table. There’s still no sound, but the Play button is pressed. Maybe the tape didn’t lock in place.
    So I hit Stop.

    Then Play again.

    Nothing.
    I roll my thumb over the volume dial. The static in the headphones gets louder so I turn it back down. And I wait.
    Shh! . . . if you’re talking in the library.
    Her voice, it’s a whisper.
    Shh! . . . in a movie theater or church.
    I listen closer.
    Sometimes there’s no one around to tell you to be quiet . . . to be very, very quiet. Sometimes you need to be quiet when you’re all alone. Like me, right now.
    Shh!
    At the crowded tables that fill the rest of the room, people talk. But the only words I understand are Hannah’s. The other words become a muffled background noise occasionally tipped by a sharp laugh.
    For example, you’d better be quiet—extremely quiet—if you’re going to be a Peeping Tom. Because what if they heard?
    I let out a breath of air. It’s not me. Still not me.
    What if she . . . what if I . . . found out?
    Guess what, Tyler Down? I found out.
    I lean back in my chair and close my eyes.
    I feel sorry for you, Tyler. I do. Everyone else on these tapes, so far, must feel a little relieved. They came off as liars or jerks or insecure people lashing out at others. But your story, Tyler . . . it’s kind of creepy.
    I take my first sip of coffee.
    A Peeping Tom? Tyler? I never knew.
    And I feel a little creepy telling it, too. Why? Because I’m trying to get closer to you, Tyler. I’m trying to understand the excitement of staring through someone’s bedroom window. Watching someone who doesn’t know they’re being watched. Trying to catch them in the act of . . .
    What were you trying to catch me in the act of, Tyler? And were you disappointed? Or pleasantly surprised?
    Okay, a show of hands, please. Who knows where I am?
    I set down my coffee, lean forward, and try to imagine her recording this.
    Where is she?
    Who knows where I’m standing right now?
    Then I get it and shake my head, feeling so embarrassed for him.
    If you said, “Outside Tyler’s window,” you’re right. And that’s A-4 on your maps.
    Tyler’s not home right now . . . but his parents are. And I really hope they don’t come outside. Fortunately, there’s a tall, thick bush just below his window, similar to my own window, so I’m feeling pretty safe.
    How are you feeling, Tyler?
    I can’t imagine what it was like for him to mail out these tapes. To know he was sending his secret into the world.
    There’s a meeting of the yearbook staff tonight, which I know involves a lot of pizza and gossip. So I know you won’t be home until after it gets all nice and dark. Which, as an amateur Peeping Tom, I appreciate very much.
    So thank you, Tyler. Thanks for making this so easy.
    When Tyler heard this, was he sitting here at Monet’s, trying to look calm while sweating up a storm? Or was he lying in bed staring bug-eyed out his window?
    Let’s take a peek inside before you get home, shall we? The hallway light’s on so I can see in pretty well. And yes, I see exactly what I expected—there’s a bunch of camera equipment lying around.
    You’ve got quite a collection here, Tyler. A lens for every occasion.
    Including nightvision. Tyler won a statewide contest with that lens. Firstplace in the humor category. An old man walking his dog at night. The dog stopped to pee on a tree and Tyler snapped the picture. Nightvision made it look like a green laser beam blasting out of the dog’s crotch.
    I know, I know.