Thirteen Reasons Why(19)

But I’m talking about Tyler now. And I’m still on Tyler’s street. His dark and empty street. He just doesn’t know I’m here…yet. So let’s wrap this up before he goes to bed.

At school the next day, after Tyler’s visit to my window, I told a girl who sat in front of me what happened. This girl’s known for being a good listener, and sympathetic, and I wanted someone to be afraid for me. I wanted someone to validate my fears.

Well, she was definitely not the girl for that job. This girl’s got a twisted side that very few of you know about.

“A Peeping Tom?” she said. “You mean, a real one?”

“I think so,” I told her.

“I always wondered what that’d be like,” she said. “Having a Peeping Tom is kind of…I don’t know…sexy.”

Definitely twisted. But who is she?

And why do I care?

She smiled and raised an eyebrow. “Do you think he’ll come back?”

Honestly, the thought of him coming back never occurred to me. But now it was freaking me out. “What if he does?” I asked.

“Then you’ll have to tell me about it,” she said. And then she turned back around, ending our conversation.

Now, this girl and I had never hung out. We took a lot of the same electives, we were nice to each other in class, and sometimes we talked about hanging out, but we never did.

Here, I thought, was a golden opportunity.

I tapped her on the shoulder and told her that my parents were out of town. How would she like to come over and catch a Peeping Tom?

After school I went home with her to grab her stuff. Then she came over to my house. Since it was a weeknight and she was probably going to be out late, she told her parents we were working on a school project.

God. Does everyone use that excuse?

We finished our homework at the dining room table, waiting for it to get dark outside. Her car was parked out front as bait.

Two girls. Irresistible, right?

I squirm a little, shifting in my seat.

We moved into my bedroom and sat cross-legged on the bed, facing each other, talking about everything imaginable. To catch our Peeping Tom, we knew we needed to keep the talking quiet. We needed to hear that first… Click.

Her mouth dropped open. Her eyes, I’ve never seen them that happy.

She whispered for me to keep talking. “Pretend you didn’t hear. Just play along.”

I nodded.

Then she covered her mouth and ad-libbed. “Oh my God! You let him touch you where?”

We “gossiped” for a couple minutes, trying to hold back any inappropriate laughter—the kind that would’ve given us away. But the clicking stopped and we were running out of things to gossip about.

“You know what I could use?” she asked. “A nice, deep, back massage.”

“You’re evil,” I whispered.

She winked at me, then got up on her knees and worked her hands forward like a cat stretching until she was all the way down on my bed. Click.

I sincerely hope you burned or erased those pictures, Tyler. Because if they get out, even if it’s not your fault, I’d hate to think what might happen to you.

I straddled her back. Click.

Pushed aside her hair. Click.

And began rubbing her shoulders. Click. Click.

She turned away from the window and whispered, “You know what it means if he stops taking pictures, right?”

I told her I didn’t.

“It means he’s doing something else.” Click.

“Oh well,” she said.

I kept rubbing her shoulders. In fact, I thought I was doing a pretty good job because she stopped talking and her lips curled into a beautiful smile. But then she whispered a new idea. A way to catch this pervert in the act.

I told her no. One of us should just leave the room, say we need to use the bathroom, and call the cops. We could end it right there.

But that didn’t happen.

“No way,” she said. “I’m not leaving until I find out if I know him. What if he goes to our school?”

“What if he does?” I asked.

She told me to follow her lead, then she rolled out from under my legs. According to her plan, when she said “three,” I was to charge the window. But I thought the Peeping Tom might have left—might have gotten scared—because there hadn’t been a click since I climbed off of her.

“It’s time for some body lotion,” she said. Click.

That sound sent my anger through the roof. Okay. I can play this game, I thought. “Look in my top drawer.”

She pointed to the drawer nearest the window and I nodded.

Beneath my arms, my shirt is slightly damp. I shift uncomfortably in my seat again. But, God, I can’t stop listening.

She pulled open the drawer, looked inside, and covered her mouth.

What? There was nothing in my drawer worthy of a reaction like that. There was nothing in my whole room worthy of that.

“I didn’t know you were into this,” she said, nice and loud. “We should use it…together.”

“Um, okay,” I said.

She reached into the drawer, pushed some things around, then covered her mouth again. “Hannah?” she said. “How many of these do you have? You are definitely a naughty girl.” Click. Click.