I take a deep breath.

As the stories go by, one by one, I find myself relieved when my name isn’t mentioned. Followed by a fear of what she hasn’t yet said, of what she’s going to say, when my turn comes.

Because my turn is coming. I know that. And I want it to be over with.

What did I do to you, Hannah?

While I wait for her first words, I stare out the window. It’s darker outside than in here. When I pull my gaze back and focus my eyes, I can see my own reflection in the glass.

And I look away.

I glance down at the Walkman on the table. There’s still no sound, but the Play button is pressed. Maybe the tape didn’t lock in place.

So I hit Stop.

Then Play again.

Nothing.

I roll my thumb over the volume dial. The static in the headphones gets louder so I turn it back down. And I wait.

Shh!…if you’re talking in the library.

Her voice, it’s a whisper.

Shh!…in a movie theater or church.

I listen closer.

Sometimes there’s no one around to tell you to be quiet…to be very, very quiet. Sometimes you need to be quiet when you’re all alone. Like me, right now.

Shh!

At the crowded tables that fill the rest of the room, people talk. But the only words I understand are Hannah’s. The other words become a muffled background noise occasionally tipped by a sharp laugh.

For example, you’d better be quiet-extremely quiet-if you’re going to be a Peeping Tom. Because what if they heard?

I let out a breath of air. It’s not me. Still not me.

What if she…what if I…found out?

Guess what, Tyler Down? I found out.

I lean back in my chair and close my eyes.

I feel sorry for you, Tyler. I do. Everyone else on these tapes, so far, must feel a little relieved. They came off as liars or jerks or insecure people lashing out at others. But your story, Tyler…it’s kind of creepy.

I take my first sip of coffee.

A Peeping Tom? Tyler? I never knew.

And I feel a little creepy telling it, too. Why? Because I’m trying to get closer to you, Tyler. I’m trying to understand the excitement of staring through someone’s bedroom window. Watching someone who doesn’t know they’re being watched. Trying to catch them in the act of…

What were you trying to catch me in the act of, Tyler? And were you disappointed? Or pleasantly surprised?

Okay, a show of hands, please. Who knows where I am?

I set down my coffee, lean forward, and try to imagine her recording this.

Where is she?

Who knows where I’m standing right now?

Then I get it and shake my head, feeling so embarrassed for him.

If you said, “Outside Tyler’s window,” you’re right. And that’s A-4 on your maps.

Tyler ’s not home right now…but his parents are. And I really hope they don’t come outside. Fortunately, there’s a tall, thick bush just below his window, similar to my own window, so I’m feeling pretty safe.

How are you feeling, Tyler?

I can’t imagine what it was like for him to mail out these tapes. To know he was sending his secret into the world.

There’s a meeting of the yearbook staff tonight, which I know involves a lot of pizza and gossip. So I know you won’t be home until after it gets all nice and dark. Which, as an amateur Peeping Tom, I appreciate very much.

So thank you, Tyler. Thanks for making this so easy.

When Tyler heard this, was he sitting here at Monet’s, trying to look calm while sweating up a storm? Or was he lying in bed staring bug-eyed out his window?

Let’s take a peek inside before you get home, shall we? The hallway light’s on so I can see in pretty well. And yes, I see exactly what I expected-there’s a bunch of camera equipment lying around.

You’ve got quite a collection here, Tyler. A lens for every occasion.

Including nightvision. Tyler won a statewide contest with that lens. Firstplace in the humor category. An old man walking his dog at night. The dog stopped to pee on a tree and Tyler snapped the picture. Nightvision made it look like a green laser beam blasting out of the dog’s crotch.

I know, I know. I can hear you now. “Those are for the yearbook, Hannah. I’m the student-life photographer.” And I’m sure that’s why your parents were fine spending that kind of cash. But is that the only way you use this stuff? Candid shots of the student body?

Ah, yes. Candid shots of the student body.

Before coming out here, I took the initiative to look up “candid” in the dictionary. It’s one of those words with many definitions, but there’s one that’s most appropriate. And here it is, memorized for your pleasure: Relating to photography of subjects acting naturally or spontaneously without being posed.

So tell me, Tyler, those nights you stood outside my window, was I spontaneous enough for you? Did you catch me in all my natural, unposed…

Wait. Did you hear that?

I sit up and lean my elbows on the table.

A car coming up the road.

I cup my hands over both ears.

Is it you, Tyler? It sure is getting close. And there are the headlights.

I can hear it, just under Hannah’s voice. The engine.

My heart definitely thinks it’s you. My God, it’s pounding.

The car’s turning up the driveway.

Behind her voice, tires roll across pavement. The engine idles.

It’s you, Tyler. It’s you. You haven’t stopped the engine so I’m going to keep talking. And yes, this is exciting. I can definitely see the thrill.

It must have been terrifying for him to hear this. And it must be hell knowing he’s not the only one.

Okay, listeners, ready? Car door…and…

Shh!

A long pause. Her breathing is soft. Controlled.

A door slams. Keys. Footsteps. Another door unlocks.

Okay, Tyler. Here’s the play-by-play. You’re inside the house with the door shut. You’re either checking in with Mom and Dad, saying everything went great and this is going to be the best yearbook ever, or they didn’t buy enough pizza and you’re heading straight for the kitchen.

As we wait, I’m going to go back and tell everyone how this all began. And if I’m wrong with the timeline, Tyler, find the other people on these tapes and let them know that you started peeping way before I caught you.

You’ll do that, right? All of you? You’ll fill in the gaps? Because every story I’m telling leaves so many unanswered questions.

Unanswered? I would’ve answered any question, Hannah. But you never asked.

For example, how long were you stalking me, Tyler? How did you know my parents were out of town that week?

Instead of asking questions, that night at the party, you started yelling at me.

Okay, confession time. The rule around my house when the parents are away is that I’m not allowed to date. Their feeling, though they won’t bring themselves to say it, is that I might enjoy the date too much and ask the boy to come inside.

In previous stories, I told you that the rumors you’ve all heard about me weren’t true. And they’re not. But I never claimed to be a Goody Two-Shoes. I did go out when my parents weren’t home, but only because I could stay out as long as I wanted. And as you know, Tyler, on the night this all began, the boy I went out with walked me all the way to my front door. He stood there while I pulled out my keys to unlock the door…then he left.

I’m afraid to look, but I wonder if people in Monet’s are staring at me. Can they tell, based on my reactions, that it’s not music I’m listening to?

Or maybe no one’s noticed. Why would they? Why should they care what I’m listening to?

Tyler ’s bedroom light is still off, so either he’s having a detailed conversation with his parents or he’s still hungry. Fine, have it your way, Tyler. I’ll just keep talking about you.

Were you hoping I’d invite the guy in? Or would that have made you jealous?