13 Reasons Why S1E8 Script

Tape 4, Side B (2017)

Some girls know all the lyrics to each other's songs.

They find harmonies in their laughter.

Their linked elbows echo in tune.

What if I can't hum on key?

What if my melodies are the ones nobody hears?

Whoo!

We're really freakin' high! Don't think about it.

Just remember, you gotta go slow if you want to climb fast.

All right.

So, what happened out there in the hallway?

I don't know. Tired, I guess.

Tired?

Tired of what?

Just tired.

Seems like you were angry.

At this school. About Hannah.

Aren't you?

Sure.

Angry about another needless death.

I'm sad for Hannah... and for all of us who... who cared about her.

So, are you gonna punish me or what?

Is that what you want me to do?

Do you get a lot of kids coming in here asking for punishment?

What do you think your punishment should be?

Isn't that your job?

I mean, it's not like you're trained to be a shrink or anything, right?

No.

But I like to think I can be helpful... to kids who are hurting, not in touch with what they're feeling, lonely...

I'm not lonely. Who may hurt themselves.

Not gonna hurt myself.

Find their way out... You don't know what you're talking about.

Hey, screw you!

Okay.

I'm sorry. No, that's okay.

You're hurting.

And I want to help.

I want to be there for you, Clay.

I'm not going to say I understand just what you're going through, but if you talk to me...

I'll try.

Everybody wants to talk.

No one wants to do anything.

What is it that you want to do?

I should get to class.

It all started because I was feeling lost.

I needed direction.

Any direction.

You have to be kidding me.

Get in the car.

I have something I have to show you.

Tell me how you know what you know.

Tell me what I did to Hannah.

See you, Tony.

Actually, I hope I don't.

Ever.

Clay, get in the car.

No.

What are you gonna do? You have no bike, buddy.

Why can't you leave me alone?

Release the tapes. Do whatever you have to do.

Just let me be.

I won't release them, if... if you get in the car and come with me.

Hi, I'm Kevin Porter. Hi.

And sometimes you take whatever way out you can find.

All right, just drive.

Where are we going? You'll see when we get there.

He's out of his fucking mind.

We played by Hannah's rules.

It's not fair if the tapes get out there because Clay went postal.

He's not gonna go public. It feels like he might.

He's just sad, okay? Let him be...

Are you getting your stomach things again, Alex?

Come sit down a minute. What stomach things?

He loved her, and she died.

Okay? He's going crazy.

Just give him a second.

He's not sad, okay? He's getting revenge.

It's not like we don't deserve it.

Alex, come sit down.

Dude, you're late.

I talked to Tony. He says he'll take care of it.

What does that even mean exactly?

Tony's a dick. He's not a dick.

He's a dick, he's a prick, and he's a cock.

Okay, those are the same things.

No, they're nuances of meaning.

Right. Yeah.

Look, Tony's not gonna do shit.

We have to take care of this.

End that little bastard once and for all.

That's insane.

I don't know.

What if we make it look like a suicide.

How tragic is that?

I mean, two star-crossed lovers or some shit like that.

Grow up, Justin.

Are you really telling me to grow up, Little Mama's Boy?

Yeah, I am.

Dude, go see a fuckin' doctor.

I've seen a dozen doctors, dude.

One thing.

If one thing had gone differently somewhere along the line... maybe none of this would have happened.

It's right over there.

Dream big, they say.

Shoot for the stars.

Then they lock us away for 12 years and tell us where to sit, when to pee, and what to think.

Is it enough to get refs from the principal and vice-principal?

Should I go to the superintendent?

Our school doesn't weigh our GPA, so I only have a 4.0.

Will this be a disadvantage?

Yo! You only have to maintain a C-minus average to play.

Look at the tits on this cheerleader!

Damn, didn't see that.

Then we turn 18, and even though we've never had an original thought, we have to make the most important decision of our lives.

Ready to begin your future?

Don't think I have much of a choice in that one, really.

How's your financial aid?

How's your GPA?

Could be better.

I haven't...

You haven't taken your PSAT yet?

No.

Interesting.

Well, I can tell you that our financial aid tends to go to students at the top of their class, with SATs above the 90th percentile.

Great. Thanks.

Of course.

And if you don't have the money and don't really have the grades, a lot of the decision gets made for you.

What future are you peddling?

I'll let you take the first guess.

Hoarder?

Close.

Librarian.

No way you're a librarian.

I know.

When people hear the term "librarian," they think 60-year-old white-haired woman with cankles.

We are... rebranding.

No offense, but isn't it like a dying industry?

You know, like travel agencies and cupcake stores?

Let me guess, you own a Kindle.

Not in a million years.

No, I'm a... paperback, write-in-the-margins kind of girl.

A kindred spirit.

So, uh, other than the Dewey Decimal System, what else has the library got going on?

Well, I like to think we are a place where people can come together, find their tribe.

Do you write?

You look like you write.

I don't.

I do, but... I don't show anybody. Ever.

We've got a safe space.

We keep secrets, and we have an all-you-can-eat cookie platter.

Well, thanks.

I probably won't see you there, but thanks.

Sure thing.

Just take a brochure. They have scholarships.

I don't need a brochure, don't need your scholarship, and I don't need four years of wasted time.

I have skills.

And a sweet Mustang.

Thank you.

So, are you kidnapping me?

Did you kidnap Courtney?

I had a purpose.

So do I.

Alex.

Are you okay?

Yeah, yeah.

Don't worry about it.

It's all this shit with the tapes, isn't it?

If all that just went away, you'd be fine.

Yeah, but how does all that just go away?

What the hell, Jess? You coming or not?

In a minute. I'm talking to Alex.

Oh, about what?

About how much she misses me.

About how much better of a boyfriend I am than you.

How she wishes she never broke up with me.

How you smell bad. Alex, come on!

Fuck you, Alex. What? It's totally true.

She was like, "Justin smells bad." I was like, "I know."

I did not say that.

You're a funny guy, Standall. No, you're funny, Justin.

With the "Let's end the little bastard"? What is that about?

It's about protecting ourselves.

From what? From Hannah's lies.

But did she lie? 'Cause I'm really not sure.

'Cause she told the truth about me.

You know he's full of shit, right?

He's a fucking liar. He's not a liar.

He can be a pain in the ass, but he's a good person.

He's never lied to me.

Well, good for him.

I wanted a purpose... a reason for being on this planet.

But that poetry group looked like an AA meeting.

Or a support group.

I saw no one within decades of my age.

Until I saw you.

You were the only other high school kid in the room.

Ryan Shaver, Liberty High's resident intellectual, editor of Lost and Found, general selfish snob.

Welcome back, everybody.

Good to see our group growing a bit.

As usual, we begin by reminding everyone poetry is about honest expression.

And we all need to feel safe to share our deepest truths.

Nice to see a friendly face.

Friendly?

Familiar?

The sign-up sheet is making its way around.

Well, don't get used to it.

I think it's gonna be my first and last time if you're going to be here.

What? Why?

Please only sign up for slots you'll actually use.

You put me in your little zine?

Remember?

"Best ass."

That list was already going around.

Everyone was talking about it.

It was news.

It was wrong.

Now then, before we begin, Hannah, would you like to introduce yourself?

Hi, I'm Hannah.

Hi, Hannah.

I don't know a lot about poetry, but I'm very happy to be here.

We're very happy to have you here.

Let's begin.

I believe Linda is first on the sign-up list.

O!

A woman scorned Mother Earth O!

All may feel your wrath Majesty of Mother Earth...

Is this like your idea of some twisted version of wilderness therapy?

Not a nature lover?

I love nature, especially in pictures in books.

What's with the rope?

No, seriously, this is getting messed up.

So what, are you gonna tie me up to a tree and force me to listen to the rest of the tapes?

No, we're just going for a little walk.

How little is little?

Just up that hill.

No freaking way.

What the hell does this have to do with Hannah?

Don't you want to find out?

"O, tall mountains and Mother Earth" and all this other hooey.

I don't think I'm going back.

Well, I think it's fine if you don't want to, but maybe you should give it a chance.

You said you thought about a career as a writer.

Yeah, but no one has a career as a poet.

Damn it! If you could remind me to tell your father to call the alarm company.

I think this thing's broken.

Let me try.

You finish the deposit.

Well, how about uh... what about a poetry teacher?

Who would want to be a teacher? Kids are assholes.

Not all of them.

Okay, what about a journalist then?

Do those still exist?

Tell Dad this is broken.

You're a parent.

You're supposed to say things like, "Be practical, be a pharmacist."

I will never say that to you.

You know, before we opened this store, your father, he used to travel all the time for these snooze-fest pharmaceutical conventions.

So, I would write him love stories.

Mm-hmm. They were very, very dramatic... and sexy.

Fifty shades of my mother?

I thought they were pretty good, you know.

I don't know, I might have some of them.

I could find them. Oh, God, Mom, please no.

Okay, listen to me.

I'm just saying... allow yourself... to dream a little.

I mean, hell, dream big.

About all the things that... you could be.

Don't settle.

Mmm?

We're closed. Go away. Hannah!

Mom, he's not a customer.

Oh. Oh, I see.

I'm gonna go get my coat.

Um...

It's in the back, so...

What do you want, Ryan? We're legitimately closed.

I have something for you.

A peace offering.

Take it.

Your thoughts deserve a decent place to live.

Come on, I know you're a journal girl.

Wow.

You do a really convincing imitation of a thinking, feeling human.

Hannah...

I'm sorry.

I didn't mean to make you feel embarrassed or humiliated.

I know what that's like.

You do?

I'm a skinny faggot who writes poems. I mean, please.

I don't think you're supposed to use that word.

Mmm. You're not. I'm allowed.

Just come back to the library, Hannah.

Come back to the poetry.

Maybe.

I'll take maybe.

Thanks... for the journal.

Honey?

Honey?

You okay?

I was just thinking it's a bad sign that we're... running out of "Buy One, Get One Free" stickers.

We can look at it as a bad sign or we can consider it the world telling us we can never discount our way to Walplex prices.

I've got more stickers back here somewhere.

Oh, Olivia.

Olivia.

I'm so sorry I didn't come in sooner.

How are you holding up?

Um...

We're managing.

You look great.

Oh, Olivia, Hannah was such a special girl.

Zach said so many nice things about her.

How is Zach?

Well, he's just great.

Every college is looking at him for basketball, but... he wants to be a marine biologist.

Can you believe it? A marine biologist.

A marine biologist.

I wonder if you've been thinking about your future.

You know, your grades have been slipping a bit.

You started out the school year really strong... but your grades have steadily dropped.

I would really focus on ending the school year strong... if you have your eyes on a good four-year college.

I've been thinking about NYU or Columbia.

Wow, those are some highly competitive schools.

So, either you're going to have to make some changes next year, or... maybe think smaller.

Maybe like a state school.

You never met with Hannah?

Once, in the spring of her sophomore year last year.

We start the sophomores thinking of college.

And do you recall what she was thinking of college?

I think if memory serves, she had some unrealistic goals.

And I tried to help her find some options.

Did you have a sense of how she felt about your interaction?

She didn't say.

But did you have a sense?

Mrs. Jensen.

Lainie. Lainie.

Please.

I know this is not the subject of our meeting, but do you know where your son is right now?

I assume he's in class.

He isn't.

He walked out of school this morning and hasn't come back.

I may be crazy, but I am not that crazy.

People free solo it all the time.

People who climb things, people who climb rocks... which is a ridiculous thing to do if you aren't being chased by something.

It's for beginners.

I used to climb it with my brothers when we were kids.

Here.

Take this, clip it on.

It's chalk.

Put it on your hands, like this.

Or you'll slip.

What?

Come on, are you a man or not?

Not!

Most definitely not. I grant you that, no question.

I, uh...

I don't like heights.

It's an easy climb.

All the answers you seek are at the top of the cliff.

The drag of your hand across my chest Sparks a blaze my lips cannot extinguish You, stubborn inferno You drive fast, and damn the red lights for slowing you down You see my veins shake at your first touch The power to move my blood on your own accord The definition of heart And after the stick shift jerk I beg my skin to do tricks Like forget how good it feels to lose control Between the burning house Of your hands

Whoo!

Hey.

That was... intense.

Um... Thank you?

Yes, thank you.

I want to write like you.

Seriously, can you teach me?

Really?

You make people feel the things you're feeling.

I want to be able to do that.

A couple of hours a couple of nights a week.

Chips and salsa on me.

"Stephie Moore is mean.

She..."

Sic.

"She so stupid."

Third grade!

I was in third grade!

Don't get what my grade school diaries have to do with anything.

Well...

First, there's a bunch of gifted child drama I won't get into.

The main thing is, you have to tell the truth in poetry.

Your truth.

But... No buts.

Ex nihilo nihil fit.

"Out of nothing comes nothing."

I just don't like it when people read my... things.

Every poem you write should be like someone reading your things.

It should be terrifying and incredibly embarrassing.

"How does Amber Holloway have boobs already?"

You're an asshole!

Yes! Yes!

Be terrified.

Good.

Now try and slow your breath down.

How do I do that?

By breathing slower.

What do I do about my heart, which is about to explode out of my chest?

Shit.

You brought your phone on a climb?

No, I brought my phone on a walk.

That's my mom's ring.

Be a good son or plunge to the rocks below.

Yeah. Thanks for the perspective.

It must be possible to swim in the ocean of the one you love without drowning.

It must be possible to swim without becoming water yourself.

I keep finding stones tied to my feet.

Sorry, I just...

Just keep going, keep going.

Jess, I... What?

What? I...

I-I can't right now.

No, no, it's okay.

Maybe if I helped a little?

Oh, Jess, come on, look. I just...

Maybe later. I just don't want to right now.

I don't do it for you anymore.

That's not it. It has to be.

You don't think I'm pretty anymore.

Jess.

God, no, Jess.

You're so beautiful.

What's happening to us?

It'll all be fine, okay?

Once these stupid fucking tapes are done.

Can we at least get high?

You don't even smoke. Yeah, I do.

Okay.

We are really freaking high.

Don't think about it.

Chalk your hands if they're sweaty.

I can't really feel my arms.

You gotta shake 'em out, one at a time.

Get the blood moving, all right?

Whoo!

Good. Good.

We're getting closer.

Remember, you gotta go slow if you want to climb fast.

All right.

Oh, shit! Ow! Gah!

Shit!

Oh, shit!

What? What? I can't see!

I lost a handhold.

Give me a sec, I've got to figure this out.

Clay! Clay, are you here?

Lainie?

He's not here. He isn't here.

Okay. Okay, calm down. What's going on?

I left you a detailed message.

The department secretary is 90.

He walked out of school and disappeared.

I'm sure he didn't disappear.

He is not answering his cell, Matt.

So he skipped school to play basketball or go for a ride.

He's missing, Matt!

He's playing hooky. He's not missing.

If you minimize this, I will lose it.

Okay, okay.

We'll find him.

He can't have gone far.

All right, I'm gonna throw this. Grab it, pull yourself up.

Tony, I can't. Of course you can.

One foot at a time.

Come on.

Oh...

Whoa! Ah! Okay. All right, you got it.

There you go.

There you go!

There you go!

Oh, shit!

Oh, man!

Whoa! That was freaking amazing.

Was it? Or was it fucking amazing?

That was fucking amazing.

Like... I thought I was gonna die!

But you didn't, did you?

Fuck!

Fuck!

Fuck!

Yeah.

I saw this YouTube video once where this guy in Spain was walking on this crane.

He had to be at least 15 stories.

He's walking, walking, walking.

And then he slips. He lets out this loud scream.

Seconds later, wham!

Wham what?

The camera went black, but I'm pretty sure he died.

Shit, Clay.

Fuck.

I never totally realized, that's a really great word.

It is, huh?

Uh...

You're bleeding.

Fuck.

Wow, this is scary.

Today I am wearing lacy black underwear For the sole purpose of knowing I am wearing them

And underneath that I am absolutely naked

And I've got skin Miles and miles of skin I've got skin to cover all my thoughts like Saran Wrap That you can see through to what leftovers are inside from the night before And despite what you might think My skin is soft And smooth And easily scarred

But that doesn't matter, right?

You don't care about how soft my skin is You just want to hear about what my fingers do in the dark

But what if all they do is crack open windows So I can see lightning through the clouds?

What if all they crave is a jungle gym to climb For a taste of fresher air?

You promised me the secrets are at the top of this rock.

I risked my life to get here. You wouldn't have died.

You'd break a bunch of shit.

I never thought about it.

Dying.

Until this year.

Have you ever seen a dead body?

I've been to a few funerals.

Have you ever seen a crime scene?

Well, like...

CSI and Law & Order, all that.

No, no. Like a... a real one.

Have you?

Yeah.

Once.

What was that like?

Quiet.

Not silent or anything, just... no excitement.

No big noise.

Just cops walking around doing their jobs.

Like it was nothin'.

How old were you?

Seventeen.

What was the crime?

Suicide.

You were there.

You saw her.

You should publish this.

Oh, no. No way. This does not leave the safe space.

People need to see this. It will change them.

No, they don't.

The whole point of creative expression is to hold up a mirror to the world so hopefully these god-awful people can start to see themselves and make connections to help them get through their dreary-ass lives.

Your pain... your pain is important to other people.

But is that why you really did it?

So you could help me touch just one person?

What?

I doubt it.

People like you don't make selfless moves.

Oh, my God, dude, this shit is crazy!

"Today I am wearing lacy black underwear with the sole purpose of knowing that I am wearing it."

I wonder who's the skank who wrote this! I don't even know what this means.

It's a bitch who's been burned, I know that.

You knew the shit I shared was personal.

You knew where it came from, and that it would get people talking.

I realize now I was desperate for someone to listen... and you listened.

And then you made my most private thoughts a public spectacle.

It's her writing.

I can totally recognize it.

Why would she write something like this?

So humiliating.

It has been brought to my attention that Ryan's publication now includes poetry.

And since we're doing sonnets this semester, and since you're all going to be distracted by it anyway, I thought we would take a minute to parse the work of this poet.

Hannah.

There's a sort of naked vulnerability to it that I like.

It's quite intimate.

"Intimate" is not a dirty word.

"Today I am wearing lacy black underwear for the sole purpose of knowing..."

So you bear your heart to one person and everybody ends up laughing.

"I've got skin, miles and miles of skin.

I've got skin to cover all my thoughts like Saran Wrap."

I can see her through the window.

She walks up to the door, she leaves this box.

And goes.

I didn't get up.

I figured if it was important, she would have knocked.

Rang the doorbell or something, right?

And I...

I should have gone out there.

I should have talked to her.

But...

Look, I liked Hannah.

She was a friend.

But the girl was a lot. She was drama.

And I was apparently the only guy at Liberty who didn't grab her ass or stare at her tits.

And so I always got to hear about it... and on that particular day, I didn't want to deal, so I let her walk away.

Jesus, Tony.

Half hour... forty-five minutes later, I get the box, open 'em, and there's these tapes, and a letter.

"Please take care of these. Listen, and you'll know how."

I started listening to the first tape.

And then...

I try calling the Bakers. They don't answer. I speed to her house.

The ambulance is already there.

And the cops.

And the front door's open. I run inside.

Her parents are there.

And she's...

They've got her in a body bag.

I remember thinking, "There's no handles on that bag.

How are they gonna pick her up? How are they gonna carry her?"

And they just grabbed the bag... and threw her in the ambulance.

Just like that.


Do the other kids know?

Why you're taking care of Hannah like you are?

Of course not.

You needed to know.

You're my friend.

What the hell, Ryan?

Hannah. What's so secret you couldn't speak to me at school?

You know damn well. How could you do that to me?

The poem?

I did you a favor, Hannah. You're a beautiful poet.

Your work deserved to be heard.

You're a self-serving, egotistical fuckwad.

One day... you will look back on this and know that I was right.

What you wrote, you can't teach that. You have to live it.

Well, it's my life, Ryan, it's not yours.

Get your own.

There was a path the whole time?

We could have just walked up there?

Yes. But what's the fun in that?

Everything you told me, you could have told me anywhere.

In Monet's the other night.

Would you have been ready to hear it?

Yeah.

No. I don't know.

I wish I had known, though.

Why you cared so much about Hannah.

I kept trying to figure it out.

I thought maybe...

I thought maybe you were in love with her.

Clay... you know I'm gay, right?

What?

No, I didn't know that. How was I supposed to know that?

I thought everyone knew it.

I don't think everyone knows.

A lot of people know it.

Wait, wait, wait, wait.

Did you think that I was, like... just friends with Ryan?

Well, yeah, I guess so.

You think I would be friends with a guy like Ryan.

Yeah, would think you would be 'cause apparently you went out.

They're different things. Trust me.

So that guy Brad... is he your boyfriend now?

I hope he's still my boyfriend.

He's been pretty annoyed lately because...

I've been spending all my time with another guy.

You.

Oh.

Right.

You mean with the tapes and all, not in a romantic way.

Sure.

Alex Standall.

S-T-A-N-D-A-L-L.

Yes. It's filled. Ready to go.

Okay, with this, you want to take one every night before bed, with water, with or without food.

This one can make you dizzy...

I know. I've been taking it for a while now.

Oh.

We have this as new.

I used to go to Walplex.

I could have them send your history over, if you like.

Yeah, that'd be great, thank you.

There you go. Thanks.

I, uh...

I was friends with Hannah.

You were?

Yeah. Um...

I'm really sorry about what happened.

Thank you, Alex.

Yeah.

Thank you.


Apparently your mom called my dad.

Oh, Jesus.

My mom. I'll text her.

We do not need that particular hysterical phone call at this moment.

Maybe if you didn't keep all those secrets from her...

Oh, fuck you, with your secrets.

Could I, uh...

Could I get those tapes back sometime?

Sure thing.

So, what, was this your plan the whole time?

Maybe I helped it along, but...

I knew sooner or later you'd want the tapes back.

You knew? Yeah.

You haven't heard yours yet.

It's delicious, but... not another bite.

Thank you.

This was a good idea.

Oh.

Honey, you can't do that.

I'm so sorry.

Oh, no. She's totally fine.

He was due for a new hairstyle anyway.

What's your name?

It's okay, sweetie. You can tell her.

Sarah.

Sarah.

You're very cute, Sarah.

Say thank you, Sarah.

No.

Sarah. That's not nice.

Oh, please, don't worry about it. I have a daughter too.

No wonder you're such a pro. How old is she?

Seventeen. Seventeen.

Yeah, it flies by.

Before you know it, she'll be applying for colleges.

Hannah's already looking.

Hannah's such a pretty name.

She wants to go to New York.

Good luck.

Let's go back to dinner.

It's a horrible story, Matt.

She was a beautiful... sweet girl, and she's gone.

Of course, we're supposed to tear her apart.

Go after her reputation, her boyfriends, anything she's ever written or said.

So don't do it. Don't go after her.

You always said that's why you did law.

If it didn't always serve justice, it could serve the truth.

Right?

So find out the truth.

What if it hurts our son?

I believe he'll survive.

The traveler returns.

You think that Tony's a good influence?

My sense of him is that he's a very good influence.

But that's not our concern at the moment, right?

Nope. I know.

I am on board.

I'm sorry.

I'm... really.

Tony and I had to talk, and we lost track of time.

And I know this was really not like me, believe me.

And I'm sorry.

Oh, God, I must be in huge trouble.

No.

But next time, a text would be appreciated before you go, and not on the way home.

No, right, of course.

I couldn't reach my phone for a while.

But, yes.

And you can ground me for a month.

No groundings.

We're just... glad you're alive.

Me too, Dad.

You didn't say much on the way home.

I wasn't sure what to say.

I didn't lie to that woman.

I'm still a mother.

And to not be the mother of a dead girl for a few minutes!

Should we move?

What?

Should we move? Should we go somewhere and start new?

And... give up the store?

I'll give up the store, give up the house, everything...

if I have you.

But you do.

You do have me.

Okay.

Good.

Shit.

Damn it.

I thought you had poetry workshop tonight.

Didn't go.

Never going back.

And we need to move.

Four hundred and thirty a month, and that's before the false alarms, which they charge you for, even though it's their fault.

You should have told me you canceled. I was on hold with them for an hour!

You know we need to cut expenses.

We should have discussed it first.

We live in the safest town in America!

That is not the point. Honey, honey.

I'm just trying to make ends meet.

And I'm not? We're either in this together, or we are not.

We can't be penny wise and pound foolish.

Right now we can't afford to be penny foolish.

Okay. I don't even know what that means, honestly.

Means we're wasting money on things we don't need.

Sometimes the future doesn't unfold the way you think it will.

Shit happens, and people suck.

Maybe that's why I stopped writing... and eventually started making tapes.

Listen. Andy, no.

Some girls know all the lyrics to each other's songs.

They find harmonies in their laughter.

Their linked elbows echo in tune.

- What if I can't hum on key? "What if I can't hum on key?

What if my melodies are the ones nobody hears?"

Is everyone reading that stupid magazine?

I'm kind of addicted to it.

You never read it? No.

Listen to this:

"Some people can recognize a tree, a front yard, and know they've made it home."

That sounds like shit. You think so?

I think it feels really real.

"How many circles can I walk in before I give up looking?

How long before I'm lost for good?

It must be possible to swim in the ocean of the one you love without drowning.

It must be possible to swim without becoming water yourself.

But I keep swallowing what I thought was air.

I keep finding stones tied to my feet."

I mean, damn.

I wonder who wrote it.

I know, right?

One dark human being, that's for sure.

I mean, I like her poem, I think, but I'm not sure I'd want to hang out with her.

Well... duty calls.


Hi, Clay.

Hey, Mrs. Baker.

I'm sorry to bother you at work.

I wanted to give you something.

It's from Hannah.

Well, it's not Hannah's, but there's a poem... that she wrote.

It's really good. I mean, even our English teacher said so.

Page seven.


It's her handwriting.

Yeah.

I know that now.