Thirteen Reasons Why Read Online Free PDF Page A

closer . . . and closer . . . and . . . I wake up.
    Every night for a week I woke up in the exact same about-to-be-kissed spot. But now, Justin, I would finally be meeting you. At that park. At the bottom of that slide. And damn it, you were going to kiss the hell out of me whether you liked it or not.
    Hannah, if you kissed back then like you kissed at the party, trust me, he liked it.
    I told you to meet me there in fifteen minutes. Of course, I only said that to make sure I got there before you. By the time you walked into the park, I wanted to be inside that rocket and all the way up, just like in my dreams. And that’s how it happened . . . minus the dancing trees and funky feet.
    From my viewpoint at the top of the rocket, I saw you come in at the far end of the park. You checked your watch every few steps and walked over to the slide, looking all around, but never up.
    So I spun the steering wheel as hard as I could to make it rattle. You took a step back, looked up, and called my name. But don’t worry, even though I wanted to live out my dream, I didn’t expect you to know every single line and tell me to stop playing with the trees and come down.
    â€œBe right down,” I said.
    But you told me to stop. You’d climb up to where I was.
    So I shouted back, “No! Let me take the slide.”
    Then you repeated those magical, dreamlike words, “I’ll catch you.”
    Definitely beats my first kiss. Seventh grade, Andrea Williams, behind the gym after school. She came over to my table at lunch, whispered the proposition in my ear, and I had a hard-on for the rest of the day.
    When the kiss was over, three strawberry-lip-gloss seconds later, she turned and ran away. I peeked around the gym and watched two of her friends each hand her a five-dollar bill. I couldn’t believe it! My lips were a ten-dollar bet.
    Was that good or bad? Probably bad, I decided.
    But I’ve loved strawberry lip gloss ever since.
    I couldn’t help smiling as I climbed down the top ladder. I sat myself on the slide—my heart racing. This was it. All my friends back home had their first kisses in middle school. Mine was waiting for me at the bottom of a slide, exactly as I wanted it. All I had to do was push off.
    And I did.
    I know it didn’t really happen like this, but when I look back, it all happens in slow motion. The push. The slide. My hair flying behind me. You raising your arms to catch me. Me raising mine so you could.
    So when did you decide to kiss me, Justin? Was it during your walk to the park? Or did it simply happen when I slid into your arms?
    Okay, who out there wants to know my very first thought during my very first kiss? Here it is: Somebody’s been eating chilidogs.
    Nice one, Justin.
    I’m sorry. It wasn’t that bad, but it was the first thing I thought.
    I’ll take strawberry lip gloss any day.
    I was so anxious about what kind of kiss it would be— because my friends back home described so many types—and it turned out to be the beautiful kind. You didn’t shove your tongue down my throat. You didn’t grab my butt. We just held our lips together . . . and kissed.
    And that’s it.
    Wait. Stop. Don’t rewind. There’s no need to go back because you didn’t miss a thing. Let me repeat myself. That . . . is . . . all . . . that . . . happened.
    Why, did you hear something else?
    A shiver races up my spine.
    Yes, I did. We all did.
    Well, you’re right. Something did happen. Justin grabbed my hand, we walked over to the swings, and we swung. Then he kissed me again the very same way.
    Then? And then, Hannah? What happened then?
    Then . . . we left. He went one way. I went the other.
    Oh. So sorry. You wanted something sexier, didn’t you? You wanted to hear how my itchy little fingers started playing with his zipper. You wanted to hear . . .
    Well, what did you want to hear? Because I’ve heard so many stories that I