ทดลองอ่านหนังสือฟรี ⊙﹏⊙ since you've been gone

ทดลองอ่าน since you've been gone

THE LIST

The list arrived after Sloane had been

gone two weeks.

I wasn’t at home to get it because I

was at Sloane’s, where I had gone yet

again, hoping against hope to find her

there. I had decided, as I’d driven over

to her house, my iPod off and my hands

gripping the steering wheel, that if she

was there, I wouldn’t even need an

explanation. It wouldn’t be necessary for

her to tell me why she’d suddenly

stopped answering her phone, texts, and

e-mails, or why she’d vanished, along

with her parents and their car. I knew it

was ridiculous to think this way, like I

was negotiating with some cosmic

dealer who could guarantee this for me,

but that didn’t stop me as I got closer

and closer to Randolph Farms Lane. I

didn’t care what I had to promise if it

meant Sloane would be there. Because if

Sloane was there, everything could start

making sense again.

It was not an exaggeration to say that

the last two weeks had been the worst of

my life. The first weekend after school

had ended, I’d been dragged upstate by

my parents against my wishes and

despite my protests. When I’d come

back to Stanwich, after far too many

antique shops and art galleries, I’d

called her immediately, car keys in my

hand, waiting impatiently for her to

answer so that she could tell me where

she was, or, if she was home, that I

could pick her up. But Sloane didn’t

answer her phone, and she didn’t answer

when I called back an hour later, or later

that night, or before I went to bed.

The next day, I drove by her house,

only to see her parents’ car gone and the

windows dark. She wasn’t responding to

texts and still wasn’t answering her

phone. It was going right to voice mail,

but I wasn’t worried, not then. Sloane

would sometimes let her battery rundown

 until the phone shut off, and she

never seemed to know where her

charger was. And her parents, Milly and

Anderson, had a habit of forgetting to

tell her their travel plans. They would

whisk her off to places like Palm Beach

or Nantucket, and Sloane would return a

few days later, tan, with a present for me

and stories to tell. I was sure that’s what

had happened this time.

But after three days, and still no

word, I worried. After five days, I

panicked. When I couldn’t stand being in

my house any longer, staring down at my

phone, willing it to ring, I’d started

driving around town, going to all of our

places, always able to imagine her there

until the moment I arrived to find it

Sloane-free. She wasn’t stretched out in

the sun on a picnic table at the Orchard,

or flipping through the sale rack at

Twice Upon a Time, or finishing up her

pineapple slice at Captain Pizza. She

was just gone

for more ebook

Anna and the french kiss

the maze runner

why men marry bitches