The sun glares through the panes of my bedroom window, bringing me awake from the warm pull of sleep. I bring my hand up over my eyes as a deep groan escapes me, shoving the comforting blankets off my body.

I launch myself out of bed and run to my closet, grabbing my favorite t-shirt and holding it up into the light for a better look. Memories flood through my brain, and I throw the shirt deep into my closet, slamming the doors behind it.

"Shut up, I do not!" I giggled and threw my head forward in laughter, hitting my friend Hannah in the shoulder.

We had been friends since the day she came to Liberty High and I had given her a tour. We bonded over our mutual hate of Justin Foley and our crushes on our new teacher. She became a sister to me in the first week we met.

Her curls cascaded down her shoulder as she fell backwards, clutching her knees in laughter on the floor. "You so do, Izzy! Look!"

Her using my nick name proved we were close, since I only let my family and those close to me use it. She grabbed my phone and opened Snapchat, gathering her breath in shallow gasps.

"He's your top best friend, and look at the username!"

My vision was blurry and my head was pounding from the tequila we had too much of, so the glare of the screen cut through me like a knife. As my eyes adjusted, I began to make out the words "Clay 💞" next to the words "Hannah" and my ex, "Justin," both with no additions to their names.

Clay and I had been snapchatting back and forth, but it was entirely PG. I knew about his love for Hannah, and that I could never be her. He was always going to see me as Justin's ex-girlfriend, the basic dumb cheerleader with a bad reputation. She was so much more beautiful in every way, and no matter how much of a good guy he was, I knew that it would always matter. Yet still, every time I saw the little heart out of the corner of my eye, I lunged for my phone. And every time I saw him with Hannah, I could feel my heart fall into my stomach. His eyes would light up when he saw her, and they would skim right over me to find her.

Realizing I was in deep shit, I tried to get my way out of her questioning eyes. "I don't like him! He's like a brother to me."

Hannah rolled her eyes, all laughter drained from her face. "Yeah, a brother you'd like to fuck."

I grew suddenly aware of my hands, and started furiously tapping them together, not knowing what to do with myself.

"Hannah, that's not true," I said, knowing full well she was right. She didn't know that it was more personal than just physically, that I hadn't been able to look into his eyes the same ever since that night with Justin.

Forcing that memory out of my mind, I stood up and shook out my hands as Hannah rose to her feet to meet my eye level.

"Don't even try to lie to me, Isabelle." I winced as she used my full name, backing it with a tone of pure venom. "You of all people know I can't fucking stand it when people lie to me."

Meeting her gaze, I was shocked to find genuine hurt in her eyes. I had always expected her to be a little judgmental, which was why I had never told her. But now she looked on the edge of tears with her fingers still clutched around my phone.

Finally summoning the courage to speak, I hoarsely whispered, "Hannah listen —"

"No! You fucking listen!" she screamed. I jumped back, trembling as her volume sent waves of pain through my hungover mind. "You and Clay are the only things in my life I actually want to stay here for! Don't you get it? I have nothing except you two, no one! And now, because of you, I don't have anything!"

Mascara and tears streamed down her cheeks as I stood huddled in the corner of her bedroom, barely able to breathe from the shock of her outburst.

"I have never done anything about it!" I yelled, my voice shaky and fragile. "I know Clay likes you so I pushed it away. I would never purse anything with him, I swear to you, Hannah. You're my best friend, please." I fell to my knees. "I would never do that to you. I would never ruin what we have over a stupid boy."

Hannah stood over me and wiped the tears away from her face. "Please just leave," she whispered weakly, throwing my phone back at me.

"Hannah —" I said softly, trying to reason with her.

"Go."

That night was the moment the world fell apart. In the span of six hours, she hooked up with Clay, my big brother Jeff died, and I lost my closest friend over a boy. After that night, I became tape number #10, and my life was never the same.

Feeling the rise of tears in my throat, I grab a tight, white crop top and an even tighter pale blue skirt.

Though my style is more hoodies and sweatpants, I try to force myself to be more confident as summer grows nearer. With the pressure of the court trials and cameras constantly near me, I know that it doesn't hurt to look more put together.

Running to my mirror, I hurriedly apply mascara and a thin coat of blush. Though I wish it wasn't true, I hear the tiny voice in the back of my head telling me that Clay always liked it when Hannah wore highlighter. Shame fills my body as I gently sweep a light film of highlighter over my cheeks.

I fix my hair and throw on a pair of Vans, and catch a glance in the mirror as I head out the door. My body freezes and I stare into my reflection, suddenly unable to move.

I can feel Marcus's hands grabbing me by the waist, and hear the whispers about me only inches away from my ear. It's like I'm back in that clubhouse, with Bryce's camera flashing, the unknown hands crawling on my back and thigh, and the feeling of drifting in and out of consciousness coming back to me in waves.

Shaking my head to clear my mind, I run to my car and break at least five different laws as I speed to school. I get to class at the last second, sliding into my seat just as the bell rings. I hurriedly finish my homework before she collects it and try to put everything out of my mind.

Struggling not to fall asleep, I push through the class and almost cry with relief when the bell to end class finally rings. My neck screams from the weight of my backpack as I shove my way through the hallway.

I keep my head down to avoid eye contact when my shoulder slams into someone, and I am thrown to the side of the hall. Gasping for breath, I pull myself off the floor and my eyes search for the culprit.

A gasp escapes me as I find myself only inches away from the maddeningly blue eyes of Clay Jensen. He towers over me in height, and his strong arms are crossed self-consciously as he stares down at me worriedly. His forehead is decorated with a huge cut, and headphones sit lazily on his neck.

I can hear the quiet voice of Hannah Baker in them, so quiet that only those who have her tapes engraved in their brain can hear it.

"Fuck, Isabelle, I'm so sorry," he says, swiping a piece of lint off my shoulder. I shiver slightly as his hands brush the exposed skin on my shoulder, as his deep, caring voice sounds right by my ear.

"Here we are, the tenth tape. Double digits."

I hear her voice from the headphones drowning out his low apologies, no matter how deathly quiet she is.

"If you've gotten this far, you know it may seem like I've never had any real friends. Well, it turns out that I used to. You're about to hear why it's a thing of the past."

Panic rises from my chest to my throat, and the look of sympathy in Clay's eyes turn to confusion. I flatten myself against the wall with my hands over my ears. He doesn't know yet.

"This one goes out to my ex best friend, the most perfect girl in school. The rich, pretty girl who could never hurt someone, right? Wrong."

"Hey, what's wrong?" Clay takes a step back and tries to catch my eyes, but my face burns as I keep them trained on the ground. "You okay?" He reaches out for my hand but I swat him away as her voice gets louder in my head.

"You see, some girls don't want to share. Some do. And some just want whatever they can't have. Little Miss Perfect, with the rich daddy and the dead brother. You've all heard her sob story."

People are beginning to stare and talk, and I feel the tears falling from my face onto my shirt. "Isabelle, did something happen?"

I finally make eye contact with him, and watch as his eyebrows furrow in confusion.

How can he not know?

"Make her stop," I whisper, quieter than the tape playing from his headphones.

Though Clay isn't tall compared to the other boys, he towers over my small body, and fear grows in my chest as I realize he is about to hear my tape.

"This tape is for you, Isabelle Atkins, and listen closely, cause I'm never going to repeat myself."

Clay freezes as Hannah says my name, and he looks down at me. His blue eyes, full of sympathy only seconds ago, turn icy cold. They clash into mine as they fill with pain, and my heart aches as I watch the change in how he looks at me, from friendly blue eyes to an icy glare.

"No fucking way." His voice is a whisper, which only makes me more scared.

He slams his hand into the wall next to me, and I squeak in fright.

"What did you fucking do?" Yelling now, he gets closer to my face, anger filling every inch of his gaze.

I could never think this of Clay Jensen. I had seen him squeak when the loudspeaker came on and apologize to desks he bumped into; this is a new Clay. This is Clay after Hannah. And no matter how scared of him I am, how terrible I feel, all I can think about is what it would be like to kiss him right now. That was all I'd wanted to do for a year now. I know I can never do it; he's in love with a dead girl, and after hearing my tape, he will never look at me that way again.

Clapping my hand to my mouth, I run through the halls, tearing my way through the crowd. Tears blind my vision and I can't even remember what class I'm supposed to be going to, but my feet keep churning, running far away from this new, terrifying person.

Why can't I stop thinking about him? Why did Hannah have to give him the tapes? Did she tell him on purpose, just to get the very last word?

I sob into my hand as I burst open the school doors and fall into my car, curling up into a ball and crying pathetically into the steering wheel.

I wish she never fucking existed.

No, you don't. I think again, shaking my head in awe of how terrible that sounded. I try my hardest to take a breath, sweat and tears pouring down my face.

Was Hannah right? I wonder as I sit in my Jeep. Do I really just want what I can't have? I'm sitting in a car I got for my sixteenth birthday, wearing expensive clothes and new shoes. Evergreen is a rich town, but am I really just like Bryce, taking what I can't get? Do I even actually like Clay?

Exhaustion fogs my brain, and I put the car seat down to lay down. I unwillingly slip into a deep sleep, my eyes glued together from tears.