Items related to I Was Here

I Was Here - Softcover

Forman, Gayle

  • 3.73 out of 5 stars
    69,242 ratings by Goodreads
 
9780147514035: I Was Here

Synopsis

From the #1 New York Times bestselling author of If I Stay comes an “irresistible tear jerker” (The New York Times) where a small-town girl seeks the truth behind her best friend’s suicide.

“An unflinchingly honest portrait of the bravery that it takes to live after devastating loss.”—Stephen Chbosky, author of the #1 New York Times bestselling The Perks of Being a Wallflower

It’s like she was my sun and then my sun went out . . .

When her charismatic best friend, Meg, drinks a bottle of industrial-strength cleaner alone in a motel room, a piece of Cody dies, too. Meg was everything to her. How could Cody not know? Determined to find out what really happened, Cody begins a dangerous search to the shadowy fringes of Meg’s life where she discovers some unsettling truths about friendship, secrets, forgiveness, and love.

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About the Author

Gayle Forman is an award-winning, internationally bestselling author and journalist. She is the author of Just One Day and Just One Year, and the companion e-novella Just One Night, as well as the New York Times bestsellers If I Stay and Where She Went. She lives in Brooklyn, New York, with her husband and daughters.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

Chapter 1

The day after Meg died, I received this letter:

I regret to inform you that I have had to take my own life. This decision has been a long time coming, and was mine alone to make. I know it will cause you pain, and for that I am sorry, but please know that I needed to end my own pain. This has nothing to do with you and everything to do with me. It’s not your fault.

Meg

She emailed copies of the letter to her parents and to me, and to the Tacoma police department, along with another note informing them which motel she was at, which room she was in, what poison she had ingested, and how her body should be safely handled. On the pillow at the motel room was another note—instructing the maid to call the police and not touch her body—along with a fifty-dollar tip.

She sent the emails on a time delay. So that she would be long gone by the time we received them.

Of course, I didn’t know any of that until later. So when I first read Meg’s email on the computer at our town’s public library, I thought it had to be some kind of joke. Or a hoax. So I called Meg, and when she didn’t answer, I called her parents.

“Did you get Meg’s email?” I asked them.

“What email?”

*****

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