If I Stay

The critically acclaimed, bestselling novel from Gayle Forman, author of Where She Went, Just One Day, Just One Year, and I Was Here.

In the blink of an eye everything changes. Seventeen ­year-old Mia has no memory of the accident; she can only recall what happened afterwards, watching her own damaged body being taken from the wreck. Little by little she struggles to put together the pieces- to figure out what she has lost, what she has left, and the very difficult choice she must make. Heart-wrenchingly beautiful, this will change the way you look at life, love, and family. Now a major motion picture starring Chloe Grace Moretz, Mia's story will stay with you for a long, long time.

Auteur

Gayle Forman

Texte du rabat

Everything can change in an instant.

When aspiring cellist Mia and her family go for a winter drive, what should be a relaxing day turns to tragedy. Mia's family is killed and she is left hanging on to life, her subconscious weighing the options between staying and letting go. Staying would mean life without parents and her little brother, Teddy; letting go would mean losing her rocker boyfriend, Adam, and her dreams for a music career. Heartwrenchingly raw and heartbreakingly romantic, Gayle Forman's international bestseller asks the ultimate question: What would you do if you had to choose?

Résumé
The critically acclaimed, bestselling novel from Gayle Forman, author of Where She Went, Just One Day, Just One Year, and I Was Here.
 
In the blink of an eye everything changes. Seventeen ­year-old Mia has no memory of the accident; she can only recall what happened afterwards, watching her own damaged body being taken from the wreck. Little by little she struggles to put together the pieces- to figure out what she has lost, what she has left, and the very difficult choice she must make. Heart-wrenchingly beautiful, this will change the way you look at life, love, and family. Now a major motion picture starring Chloe Grace Moretz, Mia's story will stay with you for a long, long time.

Échantillon de lecture
7:09 A.M. Everyone thinks it was because of the snow. And in a way, I suppose that s true.

I wake up this morning to a thin blanket of white covering our front lawn. It isn t even an inch, but in this part of Oregon a slight dusting brings everything to a standstill as the one snowplow in the county gets busy clearing the roads. It is wet water that drops from the sky and drops and drops and drops not the frozen kind.

It is enough snow to cancel school. My little brother, Teddy, lets out a war whoop when Mom s AM radio announces the closures. Snow day! he bellows. Dad, let s go make a snowman.

My dad smiles and taps on his pipe. He started smoking one recently as part of this whole 1950s, Father Knows Best retro kick he is on. He also wears bow ties. I am never quite clear on whether all this is sartorial or sardonic Dad s way of announcing that he used to be a punker but is now a middle-school English teacher, or if becoming a teacher has actually turned my dad into this genuine throwback. But I like the smell of the pipe tobacco. It is sweet and smoky, and reminds me of winters and woodstoves.

You can make a valiant try, Dad tells Teddy. But it s hardly sticking to the roads. Maybe you should consider a snow amoeba.

I can tell Dad is happy. Barely an inch of snow means that all the schools in the county are closed, including my high school and the middle school where Dad works, so it s an unexpected day off for him, too. My mother, who works for a travel agent in town, clicks off the radio and pours herself a second cup of coffee. Well, if you lot are playing hooky today, no way I m going to work. It s simply not right. She picks up the telephone to call in. When she s done, she looks at us. Should I make breakfast?

Dad and I guffaw at the same time. Mom makes cereal and toast. Dad s the cook in the family.

Pretending not to hear us, she reaches into the cabinet for a box of Bisquick. Please. How hard can it be? Who wants pancakes?

I do! I do! Teddy yells. Can we have chocolate chips in them?

I don t see why not, Mom replies.

Woo hoo! Teddy yelps, waving his arms in the air.

You have far too much energy for this early in the morning, I tease. I turn to Mom. Maybe you shouldn t let Teddy drink so much coffee.

I ve switched him to decaf, Mom volleys back. He s just naturally exuberant.

As long as you re not switching me to decaf, I say.

That would be child abuse, Dad says.

Mom hands me a steaming mug and the newspaper.

There s a nice picture of your young man in there, she says.

Really? A picture?

Yep. It s about the most we ve seen of him since summer, Mom says, giving me a sidelong glance with her eyebrow arched, her version of a soul-searching stare.

I know, I say, and then without meaning to, I sigh. Adam s band, Shooting Star, is on an upward spiral, which, is a great thing mostly.

Ah, fame, wasted on the youth, Dad says, but he s smiling. I know he s excited for Adam. Proud even.

I leaf through the newspaper to the calendar section. There s a small blurb about Shooting Star, with an even smaller picture of the four of them, next to a big article about Bikini and a huge picture of the band s lead singer: punk-rock diva Brooke Vega. The bit about them basically says that local band Shooting Star is opening for Bikini on the Portland leg of Bikini s national tour. It doesn