I slide open the junk drawer and pull out a pair of scissors. Then I run a scissor blade around the package and lift off its top. Inside the shoebox is a rolled-up tube of bubble-wrap. I unroll that and discover seven loose audiotapes. Each tape has a dark blue number painted in the upper right-hand corner, possibly with nail polish.
Each side has its own number. One and two on the first tape, three and four on the next, five and six, and so on.
The last tape has a thirteen on one side, but nothing on the back. Who would send me a shoebox full of audiotapes? No one listens to tapes anymore. Citations Publications citing this paper. Kristine E. If Zach had any idea what Hannah was going through You never know what someone is going through.
Not knowing isn't an excuse to be an ass I was terrified to read this. I found myself today in a position for which I am often critical of others I never thought I'd be in that position. We have a pretty open communication. I know that they have both watched or are currently watching the show based on this book. I always thought it was about a way to open communication about suicide.
I even bought my oldest the book, having never read it myself, because she liked the show. I decided to read it today for a Popsugar Reading Challenge prompt. So I read the reviews. I always read bad reviews first. And then I got worried What were my kids watching?
How was I so wrong about the content of this book? I read a lot of things that suggested it glorified suicide or that it was just petty revenge to make the people who were "mean to her" feel bad. It makes kids think there is nowhere to turn for help.
After all, she doesn't even talk to her parents once and it's not about opening a dialogue about mental health because they never even mention the word depression which is accurate, they never say the word. So I did what any parent would do: I confronted my kids.
I asked if these reviews were accurate. They assured me it doesn't glorify anything and, while it may be triggering a particular concern for me, since both have a history with self harm for some, they both knew they could talk to me at any point that they felt even a little triggered. I felt a little better, but still So I read the book. It took less than a day, because it's pretty short. I worked today and still had time to read the entire thing. It wasn't the best book I've ever read, but I liked it.
It was interesting. Despite what some people say, she was clearly dealing with at least some level of depression. There were some very superficial "reasons", but they all ended up being snowballed her word in to more and more "reasons". She eventually felt so overwhelmed and hopeless that she saw no other way out. That's what happens. Very minor things turn in to major things and eventually you start to think the only thing you have control over is whether or not you live that day. You wonder if everyone would be better without you, or if it will ever get better, or if Some days it's a physical battle to get out of bed and you have to make a conscious decision to live that day.
Eventually you get too tired to force yourself to live and give up. Is everyone's journey like that? Does everyone give up eventually? I still force myself to live every day. I gave up once. It didn't take. Now I fight. Some days are harder than others. This book didn't trigger me, but I saw where it could trigger others.
I got frustrated with Hannah in some areas, partly because I saw my girls in her, partly because I remember what it was to be that young and naive and just plain stupid. I don't feel like it glorified suicide. It was a sad day when it happened, it affected a few people, but mostly everyone went on about their lives just like real life.
And I saw people complain about the ending. It ended with hope. How is that a bad ending? How is at least one person recognizing he could have maybe done more, and seeing the signs in someone else, and running off to try to do better this time, a bad ending?
It has made me pay a bit more attention to what they are doing. They understand I do, occasionally, have to go in to full mom mode sometimes. I liked the book. I like how it ended. I don't feel it glorified anything. I don't feel like it was revenge.
I think she genuinely felt she had no option other than giving up. The only part that really pissed me off was her standing outside the counselor's office and seeing if he'd stop her. He should have, but he didn't, and she decided that was enough of a reason to give up. And for those of you criticizing her for sitting in the closet: She accepted her role in what happened. She admitted her guilt. And it's really easy to say what you would have done when you aren't in her shoes.
Fear does one of two things: It forces action, or it freezes action. She froze. Pass it on! Stay in Touch Sign up. We are experiencing technical difficulties. Please try again later. Become a Member Start earning points for buying books! Previous 1 2 3 4 5 6 … 20 Next. When I watched her give speeches during class, I had no idea what words came out of her mouth. I just watched those lips move up and down. Action number two: He grabbed my wrist then put his hand on my shoulder.
And when this guy saw me upset, did he apologize? Instead, he got aggressive. Then, in the most condescending way, he told me to relax. If you touch a girl, even as a joke, and she pushes you off, leave. Just stop. Your touch does nothing but sicken her. The rest of Angela was nowhere near as mesmerizing as her lips. Not bad, just not mesmerizing. And I refused to let the game end till my spin landed on Angela.
Or till her spin landed on me. When that happened, 1 pressed my lips, agonizingly slowly and precisely, against hers. Later on, Angela and I made out on her back porch. All because of a list. My name was in the Hot column.
You held Jessica up for ridicule. Jessica, my dear. I pop open the Walkman and pull out the first tape. In the smallest pocket of my backpack, I find the next tape. The one with a blue number three written in the comer. I drop that into the deck and snap the door shut. One foot in front of the other. Across the street, behind the buildings, the sun continues its fall.
All the streetlamps are on, up and down the block. I grab the Butterfmger from my knee, the soda from beside me, and stand up. Things get better, or worse, depending on your point of view. I drop the unwrapped Butterfmger into it, unable to imagine my stomach holding down anything solid, and walk away. Alex Standall and Jessica Davis. And while we never became close friends, we did rely on each other those first few weeks of school. I twist the top off my orange soda.
It hisses and I take a sip. With one week left of summer vacation, Ms. A little new-student orientation, she said. Antilly was the guidance counselor for students with last names beginningAthrough G. Later that year, she moved to another school district. I remember she was replaced by Mr. An English teacher as well as a guidance counselor. Which is very unfortunate, as it turns out. But that is for a later tape. An icy sweat breaks across my forehead.
Does he have something to do with this? The world around me tilts and spins. I grab onto the trunk of a skinny sidewalk tree. I mean, what if we had nothing in common? Or what if I thought we had nothing in common but she, the other student, thought we did?
So many things could have gone so horribly wrong. I press my forehead against the smooth bark and try to calm my breathing. We both expected Ms. Antilly to spew a bunch of psychobabble at us. What it means — what it Page 29 takes — to be a great student. How this school is made up of the best and the brightest in the state.
But instead, she gave each of us a buddy. I close my eyes. Porter asked our class why he kept hearing her name mentioned in the halls. He looked nervous. Almost sick. Like he knew the answer but wanted someone to convince him otherwise. Antilly told us why we were there, Jessica and I turned to each other. Her lips parted as if she wanted to say something. But what could she say with me sitting right there?
She felt blindsided. Lied to. Two short, drawn-out words. Was it pain on Mr. Or was it fear? Through her desk. And no one said a word, but we looked around. At each other. Then he left. Did he know? And here, to the best of my memory, is what we said. Jessica: Me, neither. I mean. And then the three of us laughed. Jessica and I had very similar laughs, which made us laugh even harder. She claimed to have never tried matching up friends before, and was doubtful she ever would again.
But guess what. After the meeting, Jessica and I did hang out. Very sneaky, Ms. Veeeeeery sneaky. We left campus and, at first, the conversation felt awkward. But it was nice having someone to talk to Page 30 other than my parents.
A city bus pulls up to the curb in front of me. Silver with blue stripes. So we continued walking until we reached downtown. I found out later that she did the same thing, walked past the street where she lived in order to keep talking with me.
So where did we go? E-7 on your map. The bus door wheezes open. Neither of us were coffee drinkers, but it seemed like a nice place to chat. Through the foggy windows I see that almost all the seats are empty. We both got hot chocolate. She ordered it thinking it would be funny. But me? I always order hot chocolate. Never had a reason to.
I move right by the driver without either of us saying a word to each other. I make my way down the center aisle, buttoning my jacket against the cold, giving each button more attention than required.
Any excuse to avert my eyes from the other passengers. I know how I must look to them. In the process of being crushed. I choose a bench that, as long as no one else boards, is situated between three or four empty seats all around. The blue vinyl cushion is ripped down the middle, with the yellow stuffing inside about to burst out. I slide over to the window. The glass is cold, but resting my head against it helps relax me. Do you, Jessica? Because when I close my eyes, everything happens in a kind of montage.
Trying hard not to spill our drinks. Waving our hands while we talk. The glass cools one side of my overheated face. Then, at one point, you lean across the table. I want to push Stop on the Walkman and rewind their whole conversation.
To rewind into the past and warn them. Or prevent them from even meeting. Alex blushed. And when he opened his mouth to deny it, Jessica cut him off. Which one of us were you checking out? Most of the shops are closed for the night. But the restaurants and bars remain open. Silently, I thanked Ms. Antilly for introducing us. Alex stuttered and Jessica leaned over, letting her fingers fall gracefully onto his table.
Poor Alex just wanted to be a part of our conversation. So we let him. And I thi nk we talked for at least another hour — probably more. Or eating lunch alone. Getting lost alone. Not that it matters, but where is this bus going? Does it leave our town for another one? Or does it loop endlessly through these streets? How many nights had I fallen asleep terrified, thinking of that first day of school? Too many. Now, I was excited. And just so you know, I never thought of Jessica or Alex as friends.
Page 32 And I know they felt the same way, because we talked about it. We talked about our past friends and why those people had become our friends. We talked about what we were searching for in new friends at our new school. Back in the garden, at the far table to the right. Jessica and I always drank hot chocolate. Over time, Alex made his way through the entire menu. Yes, we were cheesy. Add to shelf. Already read. Report an error in the book.Skip to search form Skip to main content You are currently offline. Some features of the site may not work correctly. Save read thirteen reasons why online free Library. Create Alert. Launch Research Feed. Share This Onlins. Citations Publications citing this paper. Kristine E. PytashDenise N. MorganKatherine Elizabeth Batchelor Psychology Tombs History read thirteen reasons why online free S RoshanaraS. Ramya Psychology Jeffrey A. Adalarasu Dean Psychology Related Papers. TH1RTEEN R3ASONS WHY TH1RTEEN R3ASONS WHY A NOVEL BY JAY ASHER Thirteen Reasons Why RAZORBILL Published by the Penguin Group. Thirteen Reasons WhyOnline read: Thirteen Reasons Why Jay Asher YESTERDAY ONE HOUR AFTER SCHOOL A shoebox-sized package is propped against. Semantic Scholar extracted view of "Thirteen Reasons Why" by Jay Asher. Reading Power: Female Sexuality, Bullying, and Power Relations in Young Adult. Thirteen Reasons Why Jay Asher THIRTEEN R3AS0NS WHY THIRTEEN R3AS0NS WHY A I tilted my head so I could read the upside-down title of the paper:FRESHMAN CLASS Then we'd listen, sipping drinks with our free hands. Read “Thirteen Reasons Why”, by Jay Asher online on Bookmate – “Eerie, beautiful, and devastating.” —Chicago Tribune It's free and confidential. Find more. “Thirteen Reasons Why will leave you with chills long after you have finished reading. Thirteen Reasons Why by Jay Asher, read by Debra Wiseman, Joel. Pages·· MB·3, Downloads·New! games in the book. I also became a master, and this book is a significant part of the reason why. Read Thirteen Reasons Why by Jay Asher with a free trial. Read unlimited* books and audiobooks on the web, iPad, iPhone and Android. Read THIRTEEN REASONS WHY. And then, if you're like What is your review of 13 Reasons Why Season 2? 45, Views answer views. read free chap 1. 13 reasons why book. I set down my coffee, lean forward, and try to imagine her recording this. Every night for a week I woke up in the exact same about-to-be-kissed spot. I slowly open my eyes. The stories must be bad. Till now. The empty desk near the center of the room. In the distance, muffled by a classroom wall, comes a familiar voice. So I hit Stop. Her breathing is soft. It seemed like weeks went by before you finally asked for my number. Really bad. It must have been terrifying for him to hear this.