13 Reasons Why (Paperback)

A small printer clicks one out anyway.I watch her tear the slip across the serrated plastic and drop it into a wastebasket. There's only one post office in town. I wonder if the same clerk helped the other people on the list, those who got this package before me. Did they keep their receipts as sick souvenirs? Tuck them in their underwear drawers? Pin them up on corkboards? I almost ask for my receipt back. I almost say, “I'm sorry, can I have it after all?” As a reminder. But if I wanted a reminder, I could've made copies of the tapes or saved the map. But I never want to hear those tapes again, though her voice will never leave my head. And the houses, the streets, and the high school will always be there to remind me. It's out of my control now. The package is on its way. I leave the post office without the receipt.
Deep behind my left eyebrow, my head is still pounding. Every swallow tastes sour, and the closer I get to school, the closer I come to collapsing.I want to collapse. I want to fall on the sidewalk right there and drag myself into the ivy. Because just beyond the ivy the sidewalk curves, following the outside of the school parking lot. It cuts through the front lawn and into the main building. It leads through the front doors and turns into a hallway, which meanders between rows of lockers.