Clay's POV
These doors seem so much bigger when you know all the secrets that have happened beyond them. After listening to the tapes Hannah Baker left as the last chapter to her life, I can never look at those 12 other people again, and a mirror will be twice as hard. Hannah may have said that I didn't belong with the others on the tapes, but I knew what she meant. I was on there for a reason all my own. I was a bystander. I had some moments, a lot, where I thought that something was bothering Hannah, that she wasn't all right. Usually I would have thought that everybody has done that at least once in their life, thought someone was hurting or worried about them. The difference between me and those other people, was that I never did anything about it. I asked her if everything was all right, but when she said she was fine and not to worry about her, I left it at that. I shouldn't have done that. Had I pushed her for what was truly on her mind and what was troubling her, maybe she would still be here today.
As I stood outside those large, looming school doors, I had another thought, branching off of my part of the tapes. My mind led me to who would be receiving the tapes last, Mr. Porter. He also fell into my class of blame. Hannah had tried to talk to him, but he didn't dig for an answer out of her, he just let her talk, never asked her what she was getting at or what she was planning to do. If he had done that he could have saved her precious life, but as could I.
"A little late are we?" my chemistry teacher asks, passing by in a hurry.
I just nod as he bustles off down a different hallway.
I finally collected my thoughts and some of my sanity and pushed through the doors and down the empty hallways, as I was late to school and first period had already started, and found my way to my locker. I quietly gathered my books for class, trying to buy myself time from walking into Mr. Porter's class, thinking of his part in the demise of Hannah Baker, and then seeing her empty desk still in the middle of the room and one row to the left. I inaudibly close my locker and shuffle to class.
I don't bother knocking when I get to the door with Mr. Porter's name above it. Either way, everybody will look up and see who it is and then go back to work or listening to a lecture, or goofing off. I walk to my corner of the room and take my seat, slouching down, making myself as invisible as physically possible.
"Did you hear that Justin Foley received tapes supposedly from Hannah Baker?!" whispered Samantha, the girl to my left. I looked in her direction and realized she was talking to me. "Apparently you are on there too, Clay." she adds, sending my heart into overdrive.
I didn't know how to respond so I just muttered the first words that came to me, "Umm... that's crazy, Hannah is dead, and what would she want with Justin?" I felt horrible, but I didn't know what else to say, I don't think Hannah wanted people to know about the tapes she left. They should only be known by the 12 who have received them, so I won't confirm or deny her suspicions.
"Well, according to Justin, she recorded them the day before she committed...you know...and then sent them out and came to school her last day," she said, and I could tell that she was just itching for more gossip to spread. I wasn't going to let that happen.
"She was just fine that day of school, clearly something had to have happened that day to push her over the edge, Justin is probably just looking to get his name around school again." I covered, knowing that Justin only did things for himself and it was a fairly conceivable hypothesis. "Do you really believe him?" I added just for good measure.
"Maybe, but why would he bring you into it?" she prodded, seeing a minor flaw in my lie and taking a pic axe to it.
"Just looking to juice up his story, make it more believable." I answered, packing my stuff as the bell rang, leaving my reply hang in the air.
As I left the room, I hung where Hannah and I exchanged our last words outside of the door. It wasn't much, just an exchange of everyday apologizes for bumping into one another. I took those apologies for granted, not knowing that she wished, for anything in the world, that just one of those 13 people her tapes had said it to her for the right reasons with real meaning behind it.
By the time I had gotten my books for my next class, the bell had already rung, and I was late again. Figuring this, I took my time getting to class, thinking about Hannah and how she had said that she was alone and nobody would help her. Thinking that if she had told me when I asked her, I would have helped her get through it, I could have spared her life. But that isn't the way it happened, not in the slightest.
As I round the corner, I spot Skye Miller, the girl from the bus in cassette 3, side A, on her way to class. She has always been quite, seeming normal and that all was good with the world, but then again, that is how Hannah looked to the many eyes of this school. I wasn't able to help Hannah but maybe, if I talk to her, I could help Skye. I pick up my pace and finally reach Skye.
"Skye, can we talk?" are the words that leave my lips, but she doesn't stop or turn around. She doesn't even slow down in the slightest possible way. She doesn't hear me, because after I sent the tapes off to Jenny Kurtz, I went home. I locked myself in my bathroom with just a razor and myself.
As I kneel, I think about the last words Hannah and I exchanged and utter the words that could have saved her, "I'm sorry."
