With my forehead still pressed against the metal, I turn my head just enough to look into the nearest hallway, toward the always-open door to first period. Mr. Porter’s room.
Right there, outside his door, is where I last saw Hannah Baker alive.
I close my eyes.
Who am I going to see today? Besides me, eight people at this school have already listened to the tapes. Eight people, today, are waiting to see what the tapes have done to me. And over the next week or so, as the tapes move on, I’ll be doing the same to the rest of them.
In the distance, muffled by a classroom wall, comes a familiar voice. I slowly open my eyes. But the voice will never sound friendly again.
“I need someone to take this to the front office for me.”
Mr. Porter’s voice creeps down the hall straight at me. The muscles in my shoulders feel tight, heavy, and I pound my fist into the locker.
A chair squeaks, followed by footsteps leaving his room. My knees feel ready to crumble, waiting for the student to see me and ask why I’m not in class.
From a bank of lockers further up, someone clicks a locker shut.
Coming out of Mr. Porter’s class, Steve Oliver nods his head at me and smiles. The student from the other locker rounds the corner into the hall, almost colliding into Steve.
She whispers, “I’m sorry,” then moves around him to get by.
Steve looks down at her but doesn’t respond, just keeps up his pace, moving closer to me. “All right, Clay!” he says. Then he laughs. “Someone’s late for class, huh?”
Beyond him, in the hallway, the girl turns. It’s Skye.
The back of my neck starts sweating. She looks at me, and I hold her gaze for a few steps, then she turns to keep walking.
Steve walks up close, but I don’t look at him. I motion for him to move to the side. “Talk to me later,” I say.
Last night, on the bus, I left without talking to Skye. I wanted to talk with her, I tried to, but I let her slide out of the conversation. Over the years, she’s learned how to avoid people. Everyone.
I step away from my locker and watch her continue down the hall.
I want to say something, to call her name, but my throat tightens.
Part of me wants to ignore it. To turn around and keep myself busy, doing anything, till second period.
But Skye’s walking down the same stretch of hall where I watched Hannah slip away two weeks ago. On that day, Hannah disappeared into a crowd of students, allowing the tapes to say her good-bye. But I can still hear the footsteps of Skye Miller, sounding weaker and weaker the further she gets.
And I start walking, toward her.
I pass the open door to Mr. Porter’s room and, in one hurried glance, pull in more than I expected. The empty desk near the center of the room. Empty for two weeks and for the rest of the year. Another desk, my desk, empty for one day. Dozens of faces turn toward me. They recognize me, but they don’t see everything. And there’s Mr. Porter, facing away, but starting to turn.
A flood of emotion rushes into me. Pain and anger. Sadness and pity. But most surprising of all, hope.
I keep walking.
Skye’s footsteps are growing louder now. And the closer I get to her, the faster I walk, and the lighter I feel. My throat begins to relax.
Two steps behind her, I say her name.
“Skye.”
13 Inspirations
JOAN MARIE
for saying, “I do,”
and when I almost gave up because I thought
I’d never sell a book,
for saying, “You will.”
ROBIN MELLOM & EVE PORINCHAK
“The road to publication is like a churro-
long and bumpy, but sweet.”
You two made it sweet.
(Disco Mermaids forever!)
MOM & DAD & NATE
for encouraging my creative pursuits from the beginning…
no matter how ridiculous.
LAURA RENNERT
for saying, “I can sell this.”
KRISTEN PETTIT
for saying, “Can I buy this?”
Your editorial guidance brought this book to a whole new level.
S.L.O.W. FOR CHILDREN
(my critique group)
for being so critical…in a good way.
LIN OLIVER & STEPHEN MOOSER AT SCBWI
for years of professional support and encouragement
(the Work-In-Progress grant was nice, too).
ROXYANNE YOUNG AT SMART WRITERS.COM
for believing in this book from the beginning
(the Grand Prize designation was nice, too).
KATHLEEN DUEY
for mentoring me through the early stages of this creative pursuit.
CHRIS CRUTCHER
for writing Stotan!, the first teen novel I ever read.
and for encouraging me to finish this, the first teen novel
I ever wrote.
KATE O’SULLIVAN
Your excitement about this novel kept me excited
about this novel.
THE LIBRARIANS & BOOKSELLERS OF SHERIDAN, WYOMING & SAN LUIS OBISPO, CALIFORNIA
Not just co-workers, but friends.
