Thirteen Reasons Why Read Online Free PDF

don’t know which one is the most popular. But I do know which is the least popular.
    The truth.
    Now, the truth is the one you won’t forget.
    I can still see Justin huddled among his friends at school. I remember Hannah walking by, and the whole group stopped talking. They averted their eyes. And when she passed, they started laughing.
    But why do I remember this?
    Because I wanted to talk to Hannah so many times after Kat’s going-away party, but I was too shy. Too afraid. Watching Justin and his friends that day, I got the sense that there was more to her than I knew.
    Then, later, I heard about her getting felt up at the rocket slide. And she was so new to school that the rumors overshadowed everything else I knew about her.
    Hannah was beyond me, I figured. Too experienced to even think about me.
    So thank you, Justin. Sincerely. My very first kiss was wonderful. And for the month or so that we lasted, and everywhere that we went, the kisses were wonderful. You were wonderful.
    But then you started bragging.
    A week went by and I heard nothing. But eventually, as they always will, the rumors reached me. And everyone knows you can’t disprove a rumor.
    I know. I know what you’re thinking. As I was telling the story, I was thinking the same thing myself. A kiss? A rumor based on a kiss made you do this to yourself?
    No. A rumor based on a kiss ruined a memory that I hoped would be special. A rumor based on a kiss started a reputation that other people believed in and reacted to. And sometimes, a rumor based on a kiss has a snowball effect.
    A rumor, based on a kiss, is just the beginning.
    Turn the tape over for more.
    I reach for the stereo, ready to press Stop.
    And Justin, honey, stick around. You’re not going to believe where your name pops up next.
    I hold my finger over the button, listening to the soft hum in the speakers, the faint squeak of the spindles winding the tape, waiting for her voice to return.
    But it doesn’t. The story is over.

    When I get to Tony’s, his Mustang is parked against the curb in front of his house. The hood is propped open, and he and his dad are leaning over the engine. Tony holds a small flashlight while his dad tightens something deep inside with a wrench.
    â€œDid it break down,” I ask, “or is this just for fun?”
    Tony glances over his shoulder and, when he sees me, drops the flashlight into the engine. “Damn.”
    His dad stands up and wipes his oily hands across the front of his greased-up T-shirt. “Are you kidding? It’s always fun.” He looks at Tony and winks. “It’s even more fun when it’s something serious.”
    Scowling, Tony reaches in for the flashlight. “Dad, you remember Clay.”
    â€œSure,” his dad says. “Of course. Good to see you again.” He doesn’t reach forward to shake my hand. And with the amount of grease smeared onto his shirt, I’m not offended.
    But he’s faking it. He doesn’t remember me.
    â€œOh, hey,” his dad says, “I do remember you. You stayed for dinner once, right? Big on the ‘please’ and ‘thankyous’.”
    I smile.
    â€œAfter you left, Tony’s mom was after us for a week to be more polite.”
    What can I say? Parents like me.
    â€œYeah, that’s him,” Tony says. He grabs a shop rag to clean his hands. “So what’s going on, Clay?”
    I repeat his words in my head. What’s going on? What’s going on? Oh, well, since you asked, I got a bunch of tapes in the mail today from a girl who killed herself. Apparently, I had something to do with it. I’m not sure what that is, so I was wondering if I could borrow your Walkman to find out.
    â€œNot much,” I say.
    His dad asks if I’d mind getting in the car and starting it for them. “The key’s in the ignition.”
    I sling my backpack over to the passenger seat and slide in behind the