Thirteen Reasons Why(22)

Until the night of the party.

Until the night you needed me again.





I need a moment to catch up. I can’t listen anymore till I do that.

I slip off the headphones and hang them around my neck. The girl I took Wood Shop with walks around with a plastic tub, gathering mugs and plates from empty tables. I look away toward the dark window when she clears the place next to me. Her reflection glances my way several times, but I don’t turn around.

When she leaves, I sip my coffee and try my hardest not to think. I just wait.

Fifteen minutes later, a bus drives by the front door of Monet’s and the waiting is over. I grab the map, toss my backpack over my shoulder, and run out the door.

The bus is stopped at the far corner. I race down the sidewalk, up the bus steps, and find an empty seat near the middle.

The driver looks at me in the rearview mirror. “I’m ahead of schedule,” he says. “We’ll be sitting here a couple minutes.”

I nod, press the headphones into my ears, and look out the window.





Let me tell you that there is a much bigger, more important party later in the tapes.

Is that it? Is that where I come in?

But this is the party that brings Courtney into the mix.

I was at school, backpack on my shoulder, heading out of first period when you grabbed my hand.

“Hannah, wait up,” you said. “How are you?”

Your smile, your teeth…flawless.

I probably said, “Fine,” or, “Good. How are you?” But truthfully, I didn’t care, Courtney. Every time our eyes caught each other in a crowded hall and I watched your gaze jump to someone else, I lost a little more respect for you. And sometimes I wondered how many people in that one hallway felt the same.

You went on to ask if I’d heard about the party later that night. I said that I had, but that I didn’t feel like going and wandering around looking for someone to talk to. Or I didn’t feel like wandering around looking for someone to save me from talking to someone else.

“We should go together,” you said. And you tilted your head to the side, flashed your smile, and—though I’m probably imagining this—I think I even saw you bat your eyes.

Yeah, that’s Courtney. No one can resist her, and she flirts with everyone.

“Why?” I asked. “Why should we go to a party together?”

That obviously took you by surprise. I mean, you are who you are and everyone wants to go to a party with you. To at least be seen entering a party with you. Everyone! Boys. Girls. It doesn’t matter. That’s the kind of admiration people have for you.

Have? Or had? Because I have a feeling that’s about to change.

Most of them, unfortunately, don’t realize how carefully you plan that image.

You repeated my question. “Why should we go to a party together? Hannah, so we can hang out.”

I asked why you wanted to hang out after ignoring me for so long. But of course, you denied ignoring me at all. You said I must have misread things. And the party would be a good chance to get to know each other better.

And although I was still suspicious, you are who you are and everyone wants to go to a party with you.

But you knew, Hannah. You knew, but you still went. Why?

“Great!” you said. “Can you drive?”

And my heart tumbled a bit.

But I pulled it back up and ignored my suspicions once again. “Sure, Courtney,” I said. “What time?”

You flipped open your notebook and ripped out a piece of paper. In tiny blue letters you wrote your address, the time, and your initials: C.C. You handed me the paper, said, “This is going to be great!” then gathered up your stuff and left.

The bus door slides shut and we pull away from the curb.

Guess what, Courtney? On your way out the door, you forgot to say good-bye.

So here’s my theory as to why you wanted to go to a party with me: You knew I was pissed at being ignored by you. At the very least, you knew I was hurt. And that was not good for your flawless reputation. That had to be fixed.

D-4 on your map, everybody. Courtney’s house.

I reopen the map.

When I pulled up to the curb, your front door flew open. Out you came, bounding off the porch and down the walkway. Your mom, before shutting the front door, bent down to get a good look inside my car.

Don’t worry, Mrs. Crimsen, I thought. No boys in here. No alcohol. No drugs. No fun.

Why do I feel so compelled to follow her map? I don’t need to. I’m listening to the tapes, every single one, front and back, and that should be enough.

But it’s not.

You opened the passenger door, sat down, and buckled up. “Thanks for the lift,” you said.

I’m not following the map because she wants me to. I’m following it because I need to understand. Whatever it takes, I need to truly understand what happened to her.

A lift? Already having doubts about why you invited me, that was not the hello I wanted to hear.

D-4. It’s only a handful of blocks from Tyler’s house.

I wanted to be wrong about you, Courtney. I did. I wanted you to see it as me picking you up so we could go to a party together. And that is very different from me giving you a lift.

At that moment, I knew how the party would play out for us. But how it ended? Well, that was a surprise. That…was weird.