Harper woke up the next morning in a weird sort of haze where she didn't quite know what day it was at first. She blinked off the sleepiness and took in the room around her. Right, she was at the Bakers'. Harper fumbled for her phone on the couch for a minute before discovering that it had fallen to the floor during the night. Once she'd located it, she picked it up and checked her messages. One from Tony, asking he how she was doing like he did every morning, but nothing else. Figures. Not even an ounce of concern from Colleen. Harper hardly even bothered to call her 'mom' anymore. She hadn't acted like a mother since Harper had turned thirteen.

Harper realized however, that she'd have to head home. It wasn't that far, and it was still early. It was still a few minutes before seven in the morning. Hannah got up off the couch and stretched, folding the blanket she'd used and placing it over the back of the couch.

Going into the bathroom to grab her clothes from last night, which now hung dry over the shower, Harper texted Tony back. I'm alright. I'll see you later. She decided not to mention that she'd spent the night over at the Bakers' house. He'd probably say she was crossing some sort of line and she wasn't in the mood to defend herself. It's not like she had planned it.

Harper checked over her belongings, figuring that she had everything she came with, and left before Olivia got up, feeling a bit guilty for not saying goodbye. Her walk home was quiet, most people still at home, possibly even still in bed, save for the odd jogger that passed her by. Harper opened her front door, the loud creak giving her away, but luckily her mother was not yet awake enough to care it seemed. Harper quickly dressed into her favorite yellow t shirt and pair of skinny jeans, pulled on her beat up tennis shoes, a light jacket, put her backpack back on and made for the door as quickly as possible.

"Where the hell were you last night," her mother's grating voice shouted as she reached the door.

Harper winced and paused about a foot from the door. She hadn't quite made her escape as smoothly as she hoped. "Friend's house," Harper replied noncommittally.

"You don't have any more of those, remember," her mother shot back.

"I came home, okay? Clearly I didn't get kidnapped or murdered. Is that not good enough for you?" Not wanting to even wait for an answer, Harper went out and slammed the door behind her. She tried not to wear a sour expression for the duration of her walk to Liberty High, but it was harder than she imagined.

There was hardly anyone in the halls when she'd arrived around seven-thirty. A few of the more academically dedicated students were headed to the library for a zero hour study session, but that was about it. Harper made her way to her own locker, pausing for a brief glance at Hannah's on the opposite side of the hall, exactly across from hers. She remembered when she and Hannah had reached across the hallway, one hand on their respective lockers, the others reaching out to touch their fingers in the middle, claiming that they were locker buddies only separated by the width of a hallway. Harper smiled at the memory as she entered her locker combination.

When the door popped open she was greeted with the sight of a beat up old shoebox, one that she knew hadn't been there the day before. On it was a note. Don't ask, just listen. Then pass them on. - Ryan. Harper pulled the box out of her locker, took the note off and crumpled it in her hand. Somehow she just knew this had something to do with Hannah. Without taking her backpack off, Harper closed the locker again and took off, box in hand, down the hallway and to the exit.

She walked at a brisk pace, all the way to Eisenhower Park. There she sat on a bench, put the box next to her and with a deep breath in, lifted the lid. There laid a map and under it, a set of seven cassette tapes. Harper then turned to take her backpack off, and rummaged through it until she found her old portable cassette player that she'd bought at an antique store on a whim. Hannah had been fascinated when she showed her the device for the first time. Now she was actually going to use it to listen to something other than outdated pop albums from her mother's youth. Harper plugged her earbuds into it and put in the first tape, which had the number one written on it in permanent marker. She pressed play.

"Hey, it's Hannah. Hannah Baker. That's right. Don't adjust your...whatever device you're hearing this on. It's me, live and in stereo. No return engagements, no encore, and this time, absolutely no requests. Get a snack. Settle in. Because I'm about to tell you the story of my life. More specifically, why my life ended. And if you're listening to this tape you're one of the reasons why. I'm not saying which tape brings you into the story. But fear not, if you received this lovely little box, your name will pop up. I promise."

Harper hit stop and pulled the earbuds out of her ears as if they'd burned her. This couldn't be real. It just couldn't. Harper brought her knees up and hugged them to her chest, staring at the cassette player, willing it to disappear and have this all be a bad dream. It didn't go anywhere. Of course not, what did she think this was, a movie? No, this ghost story was very real, and it was starring her and the girl she'd thought was her best friend. She supposed there wasn't any avoiding it, so she put the earbuds back in and hit play again.

She sat there in Eisenhower Park for several hours that morning, listening to tape after tape. Each time she put a new one in, she felt nauseous. Hers was coming, but when? She made it all the way to tape number eight, which was Ryan's. She paused it there, and realized, if he had been the one to give her the tapes, that meant she was next, right? Tape number nine was going to be hers?

Harper finished Ryan's tape before packing them all up and sliding the shoebox into her backpack. She couldn't sit in the park for this one. It felt too out in the open, too vulnerable. Dropping her feet to the ground and getting up, Harper reached for her backpack and slung it over one shoulder, adjusting it so it could be on both as she walked.

She couldn't go anywhere public, there'd be too many questions as to why she wasn't in school. She couldn't exactly tell the truth, and she didn't want to have to make up a lie. So that left home as her only real option. She could hole up in her room and start the next tape. Her tape, her own brain reminded her, as if it was taunting her.

Harper turned the key in the door and walked in, hoping her mother had gone elsewhere today. Harper breathed a sigh of relief when she was nowhere in sight. Still, she went to her bedroom and locked the door. She couldn't have any interruptions, should her mother come home and want to question her. Her door was always shut, so as long as Harper kept quiet, her mother would never know she'd come back.

She pulled the box of tapes out of her backpack after she'd situated herself cross legged on her bed. Moment of truth, she found herself thinking. She was about to know why Hannah had considered her one of the thirteen reasons for her ending her life. She felt another wave of nausea hit her as she picked up the fifth tape and looked at it, the sharpied number nine glaring back at her. Now or never, she thought, better strap in.