Thirteen Reasons Why (16 page)

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Authors: Jay Asher

BOOK: Thirteen Reasons Why
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Even though I stood too far away to actually read it, I assumed he'd only hold it up to prove that my name did in fact hold his top spot. Still, I thought he must've been kidding about getting together for Valentine's Day. So I thought I'd make him squirm a bit.
“Fine,” I said. “When?”
The cheerleader covered her face with both hands, but through her fingers I watched her skin blush.
I don't know, without her as an audience egging me on, I doubt I would have agreed to go out with him that fast. But I was playing it up. Giving her something to brag about at cheer practice.
Now it was Marcus's turn to blush. “Oh . . . um . . . Okay . . . well . . . How about Rosie's? You know, for ice cream.”
E-5. I saw that star on the map while riding the bus. I knew roughly where it was, just not which store specifically. But I should've guessed. The best ice cream and the greasiest burgers and fries around. Rosie's Diner.
My words came out sarcastic. “Ice cream?” But I didn't mean them that way. An ice cream date just sounded so . . . cute. So I agreed to meet him there after school. And with that, we hung up.
The cheerleader slapped her hands on the counter. “You have absolutely got to let me brag about this.”
I made her promise not to tell anyone until the next day, just in case.
“Fine,” she said. But she made me promise to spill every last detail afterward.
Some of you may know the cheerleader I've been talking about, but I'm not saying her name. She was very sweet and excited for me. She did nothing wrong.
Honestly. No sarcasm there. Don't strain yourselves reading into my words.
Before, I thought I knew who the cheerleader was. But now, remembering the day we all found out about Hannah, I'm sure of it. Jenny Kurtz. We had Biology together. By then, I'd already heard. But that's when she found out, scalpel in hand, an earthworm sliced down the middle and pinned open before her. She put down the scalpel and fell into a long, stunned silence. Then she got up and, without stopping by the teacher's desk for a pass, walked out of the room.
I kept looking for her the rest of that day, puzzled by her reaction. Like most people, I had no clue of her random connection to Hannah Baker.
Did I tell the cheerleader about what happened at Rosie's? No. Instead, I avoided her for as long as I could.
And you're about to find out why.
Of course, I couldn't avoid her forever. Which is why, in a little while, she'll make another appearance on these tapes . . . but with a name.
The cold air isn't the only reason I'm shivering anymore. With every side of every tape, an old memory gets turned upside down. A reputation twists into someone I don't recognize.
I felt like crying when I watched Jenny walk out of Biology. Every time I saw a reaction like that, with her, with Mr. Porter, it threw me back to the moment I found out about Hannah myself. When I did cry.
When instead, I should have been angry at them.
So if you want the full Hannah experience, go to Rosie's for yourself.
God. I hate not knowing what to believe anymore. I hate not knowing what's real.
E-5 on your map. Sit down on one of the stools at the counter. In a minute, I'll tell you what to do after seating yourself. But first, a little background on me and Rosie's.
I had never gone there before that day. I know, it seems crazy. Everyone's been to Rosie's. It's the cool, quirky place to hang out. But as far as I knew, no one ever went there alone. And every time someone invited me, for some reason or another, I was busy. Family visiting from out of town. Too much homework. Always something.
To me, Rosie's had an aura about it. A mystery. In the stories I heard, it seemed like things were always happening there. Alex Standall, his first week in town, had his first fight outside Rosie's front door. He told me and Jessica about it during our Monet's Garden Café period.
When I heard about that fight, it came as advice not to mess with the new kid. Alex knew how to throw, as well as take, a punch.
A girl, whose name I will not repeat, had her first under-the-bra experience at Rosie's while making out between the pinball machines.
Courtney Crimsen. Everyone knew about that. And it's not like Courtney tried to hide it.
With all the stories, it seemed that Rosie turned a blind eye to anything going on as long as cones were being filled and burgers were being flipped. So I wanted to go, but I was not about to go alone and look like a dork.
Marcus Cooley gave me the excuse I needed. And it just so happened that I was free.
Free, but not stupid.
I was a little wary of Marcus. A little suspicious. But not of him so much as the people he hung out with.
People like Alex Standall.
After peeling away from our olly-olly-oxen-free group at Monet's, Alex started hanging out with Marcus. And after the little stunt Alex pulled with the “Who's Hot / Who's Not” list, I didn't trust him.
So why would I trust someone he hangs out with?
You shouldn't.
Why? Because that's exactly what I wanted for me. I wanted people to trust me, despite anything they'd heard. And more than that, I wanted them to know me. Not the stuff they thought they knew about me. No, the real me. I wanted them to get past the rumors. To see beyond the relationships I once had, or maybe still had but that they didn't agree with. And if I wanted people to treat me that way, then I had to do the same for them, right?
So I walked into Rosie's and sat at the counter. And when you go there, if you go there, don't order right away.
The phone in my pocket starts vibrating.
Just sit and wait.
And wait a little more.
It's Mom.
I answer the phone, but even the simplest words catch in my throat and I say nothing.
“Honey?” Her voice is soft. “Is everything all right?”
I close my eyes to concentrate, to speak calmly. “I'm fine.” But does she hear it?
“Clay, honey, it's getting late.” She pauses. “Where are you?”
“I forgot to call. I'm sorry.”
“It's okay.” She hears it, but she won't ask. “Do you want me to pick you up?”
I can't go home. Not yet. I almost tell her I need to stay till I'm done helping Tony with his school project. But I'm almost done with this tape and I only have one more with me.
“Mom? Can you do me a favor?”
No response.
“I left some tapes on the workbench.”
“For your project?”
Wait! But what if she listens to them? What if, to see what they are, she slides a tape into the stereo? What if it's Hannah talking about me?
“It's okay. Never mind,” I say. “I'll get them.”
“I can bring them to you.”
I don't answer. The words aren't caught in my throat, I just don't know which ones to use.
“I'm heading out anyway,” she says. “We're out of bread and I'm making sandwiches for tomorrow.”
I exhale a tiny laugh and I smile. Whenever I'm out late she makes a sandwich for my school lunch. I always protest and tell her not to, saying I'll make my own when I get home. But she likes it. She says it reminds her of when I was younger and needed her.
“Just tell me where you are,” she says.
Leaning forward on the metal bench, I say the first thing that comes to mind. “I'm at Rosie's.”
“The diner? Are you getting work done there?” She waits for an answer, but I don't have one. “Doesn't it get loud?”
The street is empty. No cars. No noise. No commotion in the background. She knows I'm not telling the truth.
“When are you going to leave?” I ask.
“As soon as I get the tapes.”
“Great.” I start walking. “I'll see you soon.”
Listen to the conversations around you. Are people wondering why you're sitting there alone? Now glance over your shoulder. Did a conversation stop? Did their eyes turn away?
I'm sorry if this sounds pathetic, but you know it's true. You've never gone there by yourself, have you?
I haven't.
It's a totally different experience. And deep down you know the reason you've never gone alone is the reason I just explained. But if you do go, and you don't order anything, everyone's going to think the same thing about you that they thought about me. That you're waiting for someone.
So sit there. And every few minutes, glance at the clock on the wall. The longer you wait—and this is true—the slower the hands will move.
Not today. When I get there, my heart will be racing as I watch the hands spin closer and closer to Mom walking through the door.
I start to run.
When fifteen minutes are up, you have my permission to order a shake. Because fifteen minutes is ten minutes longer than it should take even the slowest person to walk there from school.
Somebody . . . isn't coming.
Now, if you need a recommendation, you can't go wrong with the banana-and-peanut-butter shake.
Then keep waiting, however long it takes to finish your shake. If thirty minutes go by, start digging in with your spoon so you can get the hell out of there. That's what I did.
You're an ass, Marcus. You stood her up when you never even had to ask her out to begin with. It was a fund-raiser for Cheer Camp. If you didn't want to take it seriously, you didn't have to.
Thirty minutes is a long time to wait for a Valentine's date. Especially inside Rosie's Diner by yourself. It also gives you plenty of time to wonder what happened. Did he forget? Because he seemed sincere. I mean, even the cheerleader thought he meant it, right?
I keep running.
Calm down, Hannah. That's what I kept telling myself. You're not setting yourself up for a fall. Calm down. Does that sound familiar to anyone else? Isn't that how I convinced myself not to pull my survey out of the box?
Okay, stop. Those were the thoughts running through my head after waiting thirty minutes for Marcus to show up. Which probably didn't put me in a good frame of mind for when he finally did show up.
My running slows. Not because I'm out of breath or my legs are ready to collapse. I'm not physically tired. But I'm exhausted.
If Marcus didn't stand her up, then what?
He sat down on the stool next to me and apologized. I told him that I'd almost given up and left. He looked at my empty milkshake glass and apologized again. But in his mind, he wasn't late. He wasn't sure I would even be there.
And I'm not going to hold that against him. Apparently, he thought we were joking about the date. Or he assumed we were joking about the date. But halfway home, he stopped, thought about it, and headed to Rosie's just in case.
And that's why you're on this tape, Marcus. You turned around just in case. Just in case I, Hannah Baker—Miss Reputation—was waiting for you.
And sadly, I was. At the time, I just thought it might be fun.
At the time, I was stupid.
There's Rosie's. Across the street. At the far end of the parking lot.
See, when Marcus came into Rosie's, he wasn't alone. No, Marcus came into Rosie's with a plan. Part of that plan was to move us away from the counter to a booth near the back. Near the pinball machines. With me on the inside.
Me, sandwiched between him . . . and a wall.

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