adminComment(0) KB. The Unexpected Everything - Morgan . Rea Recca, I can't download Since You've been gone. Can you resend me?. Page 1. Epub Since You've Been Gone ^[email protected]#. DETAIL Author: Morgan Matson Publisher: Simon & Schuster Books for Young. Since You've Been Gone Click button below to download or read this book Book Details Author: Morgan Matson Pages: Binding.

Since Youve Been Gone Morgan Matson Epub

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May 8, Since You've Been Gone by Morgan Matson pdf epub mobi download. Emily is about to take some risks and have the most unexpected summer ever. says, Basically I couldnt be more in love with this book,” from. Since You've Been Gone (Paperback) Morgan Matson 6 Copy Backlist Pack ( Multiple copy pack / Other) Amy & Roger's Epic Detour (EPUB ebook).

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On Special. Firm Sale. Internationally Sourced. In your basket. Sloane loved when stores had Since Youve Been Gone 5. Not that she was a huge fan of puns, but shed always said she liked to picture the owners thinking them up, and how pleased with themselves they must have been when they landed on whatever theyd chosen.

I immediately made a mental note to tell Sloane about the motto, and then, a moment later, realized how stupid this was. Three guys got out of the truck and headed for the back of it, two of them starting to lift down the equipment. They looked older, like maybe they were in college, and I stayed frozen on the steps, watching them. I knew that this was an opportunity to try and get some information, but that would involve talking to these guys.

Id been shy from birth, but the last two years had been different. With Sloane by my side, it was like I suddenly had a safety net. She was always able to take the lead if I wanted her to, and if I didnt, I knew she would be there, jumping in if I lost my nerve or got flustered.

And when I was on my own, awkward or failed interactions just didnt seem to matter as much, since I knew Id be able to spin it into a story, and we could laugh about it afterward. Without her here, though, it was becoming clear to me how terrible I now was at navigating things like this on my own.

I jumped, realizing I was being addressed by one of the landscapers. He was looking up at me, shielding his eyes against the sun as the other two hefted down a riding mower.

You live here? The other two guys set the mower down, and I realized 6 Morgan Matson. I knew one of them; hed been in my English class last year, making this suddenly even worse. No, I said, and heard how scratchy my voice sounded. I had been saying only the most perfunctory things to my parents and younger brother over the last two weeks, and the only talking Id really been doing had been into Sloanes voice mail.

I cleared my throat and tried again. I dont. The guy whod spoken to me raised his eyebrows, and I knew this was my cue to go. I was, at least in their minds, trespassing, and would probably get in the way of their work. All three guys were now staring at me, clearly just waiting for me to leave. But if I left Sloanes houseif I ceded it to these strangers in yellow T-shirtswhere was I going to get more information?

Did that mean I was just accepting the fact that she was gone? The guy whod spoken to me folded his arms across his chest, looking impatient, and I knew I couldnt keep sitting there. If Sloane had been with me, I would have been able to ask them.

If she were here, she probably would have gotten two of their numbers already and would be angling for a turn on the riding mower, asking if she could mow her name into the grass. But if Sloane were here, none of this would be happening in the first place. My cheeks burned as I pushed myself to my feet and walked quickly down the stone steps, my flip-flops sliding once on the leaves, but I steadied myself before I wiped out and made this more humiliating than it already was.

I nodded at the guys, then looked down at the driveway as I walked over to my car. Since Youve Been Gone 7. Now that I was leaving, they all moved into action, distributing equipment and arguing about who was doing what.

I gripped my door handle, but didnt open it yet. Was I really just going to go? Without even trying? So, I said, but not loudly enough, as the guys continued to talk to each other, none of them looking over at me, two of them having an argument about whose turn it was to fertilize, while the guy from last years English class held his baseball cap in his hands, bending the bill into a curve.

So, I said, but much too loudly this time, and the guys stopped talking and looked over at me again. I could feel my palms sweating, but I knew I had to keep going, that I wouldnt be able forgive myself if I just turned around and left. I was just. I let out a shaky breath. My friend lives here, and I was trying to find her. Do you I suddenly saw, like I was observing the scene on TV, how ridiculous this probably was, asking the landscaping guys for information on my best friends whereabouts.

I mean, did they hire you for this job? Her parents, I mean? Milly or Anderson Williams? Even though I was trying not to, I could feel myself grabbing on to this possibility, turning it into something I could understand. If the Williamses had hired Stanwich Landscaping, maybe they were just on a trip somewhere, getting the yard stuff taken care of while they were gone so they wouldnt be bothered.

It was just a long trip, and they had gone somewhere with no cell reception or e-mail service. That was all.

The guys looked at each other, and it didnt seem like any of these names had rung a bell. Sorry, said the guy whod first spoken to me. We just get the address. We dont know about that stuff.

I nodded, feeling like Id just depleted my last reserve of hope. Thinking about it, the fact that landscapers were here was actually a bit ominous, as I had never once seen Anderson show the slightest interest in the lawn, despite the fact that the Stanwich Historical Society was apparently always bothering him to hire someone to keep up the property. Two of the guys had headed off around the side of the house, and the guy from my English class looked at me as he put on his baseball cap.

Hey, youre friends with Sloane Williams, right? Yes, I said immediately. This was my identity at school, but Id never minded itand now, Id never been so happy to be recognized that way. Maybe he knew something, or had heard something.

JUNE One Year Earlier

Sloanes actually who Im looking for. This is her house, so.


The guy nodded, then gave me an apologetic shrug. Sorry I dont know anything, he said. Hope you find her. He didnt ask me what my name was, and I didnt volunteer it. What would be the point? Thanks, I managed to say, but a moment too late, as hed already joined the other two.

I looked at the house once more, the house that somehow no longer even felt like Sloanes, and Since Youve Been Gone 9. I didnt head right home; instead I stopped in to Stanwich Coffee, on the very off chance that there would be a girl in the corner chair, her hair in a messy bun held up with a pencil, reading a British novel that used dashes instead of quotation marks.

But Sloane wasnt there. And as I headed back to my car I realized that if she had been in town, it would have been unthinkable that she wouldnt have called me back.

It had been two weeks; something was wrong. Strangely, this thought buoyed me as I headed for home. When I left the house every morning, I just let my parents assume that I was meeting up with Sloane, and if they asked what my plans were, I said vague things about applying for jobs. But I knew now was the moment to tell them that I was worried; that I needed to know what had happened. After all, maybe they knew something, even though my parents werent close with hers.

The first time theyd met, Milly and Anderson had come to collect Sloane from a sleepover at my house, two hours later than theyd been supposed to show up. And after pleasantries had been exchanged and Sloane and I had said good-bye, my dad had shut the door, turned to my mother, and groaned, That was like being stuck in a Gurney play. I hadnt known what hed meant by this, but I could tell by his tone of voice that it hadnt been a compliment.

But even though they hadnt been friends, they still might know something. Or they might be able to find something out. I held on to this thought tighter and tighter as I got closer to my house.

We lived close to one of the four commercial districts scattered throughout Stanwich. My neighborhood was pedestrian-friendly and walkable, and there was always lots of traffic, both cars and people, usually heading in the direction of the beach, a ten-minute drive from our house.

Stanwich, Connecticut, was on Long Island Sound, and though there were no waves, there was still sand and beautiful views and stunning houses that had the water as their backyards.

Our house, in contrast, was an old Victorian that my parents had been fixing up ever since wed moved in six years earlier. The floors were uneven and the ceilings were low, and the whole downstairs was divided into lots of tiny roomsoriginally all specific parlors of some kind. But my parentswho had been living, with me, and later my younger brother, in tiny apartments, usually above a deli or a Thai placecouldnt believe their good fortune. They didnt think about the fact that it was pretty much falling down, that it was three stories and drafty, shockingly expensive to heat in the winter and, with central air not yet invented when the house was built, almost impossible to cool in the summer.

They were ensorcelled with the place. The house had originally been painted a bright purple, but had faded over the years to a pale lavender. It had a wide front porch, a widows walk at the very top of the house, too many windows to make any logical sense, and a turret room that was my parents study.

Since Youve Been Gone I pulled up in front of the house and saw that my brother was sitting on the porch steps, perfectly still. This was surprising in itself. Beckett was ten, and constantly in motion, climbing up vertiginous things, practicing his ninja moves, and biking through our neighborhoods streets with abandon, usually with his best friend Annabel Montpelier, the scourge of stroller-pushing mothers within a five-mile radius. Hey, I said as I got out of the car and walked toward the steps, suddenly worried that I had missed something big in the last two weeks while Id sleepwalked through family meals, barely paying attention to what was happening around me.

But maybe Beckett had just pushed my parents a little too far, and was having a time-out. Id find out soon enough anyway, since I needed to talk to them about Sloane. You okay? I asked, climbing up the three porch steps. He looked up at me, then back down at his sneakers. Its happening again.

Are you sure? I crossed the porch to the door and pulled it open. I was hoping Beckett was wrong; after all, hed only experienced this twice before. Maybe he was misreading the signs. Beckett followed behind me, stepping into what had originally been an entry parlor, but which we had turned into a mudroom, where we dropped jackets and scarves and keys and shoes. I walked into the house, squinting in the light that was always a little too dim.

I called, crossing my fingers in my jean shorts pockets, hoping that Beckett had just gotten this wrong. But as my eyes adjusted, I could see, through the open door of the kitchen, an explosion of stuff from the warehouse store one town over. Piled all over the kitchen counters were massive quantities of food and supplies in bulkinstant mac and cheese, giant boxes of cereal, gallons of milk, a nearly obscene amount of mini micro cheesy bagels.

As I took it in, I realized with a sinking feeling that Beckett had been totally correct. They were starting a new play. Told you, Beckett said with a sigh as he joined me. My parents were a playwriting team who worked during the school year at Stanwich College, the local university and the reason we had moved here. My mom taught playwriting in the theater department, and my dad taught critical analysis in the English department.

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They both spent the school year busy and stressedespecially when my mom was directing a play and my dad was dealing with his thesis students and midtermsbut they relaxed when the school year ended. They might occasionally pull out an old script theyd put aside a few years earlier and tinker with it a little, but for the most part, they took these three months off.

There was a pattern to our summers, so regular you could almost set your calendar to it. In June, my dad would decide that he had been too hemmed in by society and its arbitrary regulations, and declare that he was a man. Basically, this meant that he would grill everything we ate, even things that really shouldnt be grilled, like lasagna, and would start growing a beard that would have him looking like a mountain Since Youve Been Gone My mother would take up some new hobby around the same time, declaring it her creative outlet.

One year, we all ended up with lopsided scarves when she learned to knit, and another year we werent allowed to use any of the tables, as theyd all been taken over by jigsaw puzzles, and had to eat our grilled food off plates we held on our laps.

And last year, shed decided to grow a vegetable garden, but the only thing that seemed to flourish was the zucchini, which then attracted the deer she subsequently declared war on.

But by the end of August, we were all sick of charred food, and my dad was tired of getting strange looks when he went to the post office.

My dad would shave, wed start using the stove inside, and my mother would put aside her scarves or puzzles or zucchini. It was a strange routine, but it was ours, and I was used to it. But when they were writing, everything changed.

It had happened only twice before. The summer I was eleven, they sent me to sleepaway campan experience that, while horrible for me, actually ended up providing them with the plot of their play. It had happened again when I was thirteen and Beckett was six. Theyd gotten an idea for a new play one night, and then had basically disappeared into the dining room for the rest of the summer, downloading food in bulk and emerging every few days to make sure that we were still alive.

I knew that ignoring us wasnt something either of them intended to do, but theyd been a playwriting team for years before theyd had us, and it was like 14 Morgan Matson. But I really didnt want this to be happening right now not when I needed them. I called again.

Since You've Been Gone by Morgan Matson

My mother stepped out of the dining room and I noticed with a sinking feeling that she was wearing sweatpants and a T-shirtwriting clothesand her curly hair was up in a knot on top of her head. She looked around. Wheres your brother? Um, here, Beckett said, waving at her from my side.

Oh, good, my mother said. We were just going to call you two. We need to have a family meeting. Wait, I said quickly, taking a step forward. I needed to talk to you and Dad. Its about Sloane Family meeting! His voice was deep, very loud, and it was the reason he was always getting assigned the eight a. That was fast. Dad, I said, hoping I could somehow get in front of this.

I needed to talk to you guys.

We need to talk to you, too, my mother said. Your father and I were chatting last night, and we somehow got onScott, how did we start talking about it? It was because your reading light burned out, my dad said, Since Youve Been Gone And we started talking about electricity.

Right, my mother said, nodding.

Since You've Been Gone

So we started talking about Edison, then Tesla, and then Edison and Tesla, and We think we might have a play, my dad finished, glancing into the dining room. I saw they already had their laptops set up across the table, facing each other. Were going to bounce around some ideas. It might be nothing. I nodded, but I knew with a sinking feeling that it wasnt nothing.

My parents had done this enough that they knew when something was worth making a bulk supermarket run.

I knew the signs well; they always downplayed ideas they truly saw promise in. But when they started talking excitedly about a new play, already seeing its potential before anything was written, I knew it would fizzle out in a few days. So we might be working a bit, my mother said, in what was sure to be the understatement of the summer. We bought supplies, she said, gesturing vaguely to the kitchen, where I could see the jumbo-size bags of frozen peas and microwave burritos were starting to melt.

And theres always emergency money in the conch. The conch shell had served as a prop during the Broadway production of Bug Juice, my parents most successful play, and now, in addition to being where we kept household cash, served as a bookend for a listing pile of cookbooks.

Becketts going to be at day camp during the week, so 16 Morgan Matson. Annabels going too, my mother said, maybe noticing Becketts scowl.

What about camping? Well still go camping, my dad said. Maybe seeing my alarmed look, he added, Just your brother and me. The Hughes men in the wilderness. Beckett looked into the dining room, his brow furrowed. My dad waved this away. We arent going until July, he said. And Im sure this idea wont amount to much anyway.

What about you, Em?

Do you have your summer plans worked out? I bit my lip. Sloane and I had made plans upon plans for this summer. We had concert tickets downloadd, she had told me she had mapped out something called a pizza crawl, and I had decided we should spend the summer seeking out Stanwichs best cupcake. Sloane had a plan for both of us to find summer boys, but she had been vague on just how we were going to accomplish this. Wed blocked off the weekends we would drive upstate to the various flea markets shed spent the last few months scouting, and Id already gone through the drive-in calendar and decided which nights we needed to block off for the double features.

Shed planned on making friends with someone who had a pool, and had decided this would be the summer Since Youve Been Gone I wanted to learn the zombie dance from Thriller and she wanted to learn the dance from ondon Moores new video, the one that had sparked all sorts of protests from parents groups. At some point, we were going to need to get jobs, of course.

But wed decided it was going to be something unchallenging that we could do together, like we had the summer before, when wed waitressed at the Stanwich Country ClubSloane earning more tips than anyone else, me getting a reputation for being an absolute whiz at filling the ketchup bottles at the end of the night.

Wed also left lots of time unscheduledthe long stretches of hours wed spend at the beach or walking around or just hanging out with no plan beyond maybe getting fountain Diet Cokes. It was Sloaneyou usually didnt need more than that to have the best Wednesday of your life.

I swallowed hard as I thought about all these plans, the whole direction Id planned for my summer to go, just vanishing. And I realized that if Sloane were here, suddenly having my parents otherwise occupied and not paying attention to things like my curfew would have meant we could have had the most epic summer ever.

I could practically see that summer, the one I wanted, the one I should have been living, shimmering in front of me like a mirage before it faded and disappeared. She was in the same room with me, she was technically looking at me, but I knew when my parents were present and when their minds were on their play.

For just a moment, I thought about trying to tell them about Sloane, trying to get them to help me figure out what had happened. But I knew that theyd say yes with the best of intentions and then forget all about it as they focused on Tesla and Edison. Sounds good, my dad said, nodding. My mom smiled, like Id given her the answer shed wanted, even though I hadnt told them anything concrete. But it was clear they wanted this off their plates, so they could consider their children more or less sorted, and they could get to work.

They were both edging toward the dining room, where their laptops glowed softly, beckoning. I sighed and started to head to the kitchen, figuring that I should get the frozen stuff into the freezer before it went bad. Oh, Em, my mother said, sticking her head out of the dining room. I saw my father was already sitting in his chair, opening up his laptop and stretching out his fingers.

A letter came for you. My heart slowed and then started beating double-time. There was only one person who regularly wrote to me. And they werent even actually lettersthey were lists.

Microwave, my mother said. She went back into the Since Youve Been Gone I pushed aside the twelve-pack of Kleenex and saw it. It was leaning up against the microwave like it was nothing, next to a bill from the tree guy. But it was addressed to me. And it was in Sloanes handwriting.

I asked. Sloane looked over at me sharply, almost dropping the sunglassesoversize green framesthat shed just picked up. I held out the paper in my hands, the letter Id seen propped up by the microwave as I headed down that morning, on my way to pick her up and drive us to the latest ea market shed found, an hour and change outside of Stanwich.

Though there hadnt been a return addressjust a heartId recognized Sloanes handwriting immediately, a distinctive mix of block letters and cursive.

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Its what happens when you go to three different schools for third grade, shed explained to me once. Everyone is learning this at different stages and you never get the fundamentals. Sloane and her parents lived the kind of peripatetic existencepicking up and moving when they felt like it, or when they just wanted a new adventurethat Id seen in 20 Morgan Matson. Id learned by now that Sloane used this excuse when it suited her, not just for handwriting, but also for her inability to comprehend algebra, climb a rope in PE, or drive.

She was the only person our age I knew who didnt have a license. She claimed that in all her moves, shed never quite been the right age for a permit where they were, but I also had a feeling that Milly and Anderson had been occupied with more exciting things than bringing her to drivers ed and then quizzing her every night over dinner, geeking out on trafc regulations and the points system, like my dad had done.

Whenever I brought up the fact that she lived in Stanwich now, and could get a Connecticut license without a problem, Sloane waved it away.

I know the fundamentals of driving, shed say. If Im ever on a bus that gets hijacked on the freeway, I can take over when the driver gets shot. No problem. And since Sloane liked to walk whenever possiblea habit shed picked up living in cities for much of her life, and not just places like Manhattan and Boston, but London and Paris and Copenhagenshe didnt seem to mind that much. I liked to drive and was happy to drive us everywhere, Sloane sitting shotgun, the DJ and navigator, always on top of telling me when our snacks were running low.

An older woman, determined to check out the selection of tarnished cufinks, jostled me out of the way, and I stepped aside. We were technically here looking for boots for her, but as soon as wed paid our two dollars apiece and entered the middle school parking lot that had been converted, for the weekend, into a land of potential treasure, she had made a beeline to this stall, which seemed to be mostly sunglasses and jewelry.

Since Id picked up the letter, Id been waiting for the right moment to ask her, when Id have her full attention, and the drive had been the wrong timethere was music to sing along to and things to discuss and directions to follow. Sloane smiled at me, even as she put on the terrible green sunglasses, hiding her eyes, and I wondered for a moment if she was embarrassed, which Id almost never seen.

You werent supposed to get that until tomorrow, she said as she bent down to look at her reection in the tiny standing mirror.

I was hoping it would be there right before you guys left for the airport. The mail here is too efcient. But what is it? I asked, ipping through the pages. Emily Goes to Scotland! Try haggis. Call at least three people lassie. Say, at least once, You can take my life, but youll never take my freedom!


Say this out loud and in public. The list continued on, over to the next page, lled with thingslike y-shing and asking people if they knew 22 Morgan Matson. Rowlingthat I did not intend to do, and not just because I would only be gone ve days. One of my parents plays was going into rehearsals for the Edinburgh Fringe Festival, and they had decided it would be the perfect opportunity to take a family trip.

I suddenly noticed that at the very bottom of the list, in tiny letters, shed written, When you nish this list, nd me and tell me all about it. I looked up at Sloane, who had set the green pair down and was now turning over a pair of rounded cat-eye frames. Its stuff for you to do in Scotland!

She frowned at the sunglasses and held up the frames to me, and I knew she was asking my opinion. I shook my head, and she nodded and set them down. I wanted to make sure you got the most of your experience. Well, Im not sure how many of these Ill actually do, I said as I carefully folded the letter and placed it back in the envelope. But this is awesome of you. Thanks so much.

She gave me a tiny wink, then continued to look through the sunglasses, clearly searching for something specic. She had spent most of the spring channeling Audrey Hepburnlots of winged black eyeliner and stripes, skinny black pants and atsbut was currently transitioning into what she was calling seventies California, and referencing people like Marianne Faithfull and Anita Pallenberg, who Id never heard of, and Penny Lane in Almost Famous, who Since Youve Been Gone I had.

Today, she was wearing a owing vintage maxi dress and sandals that tied around her ankles, her wavy darkblond hair spilling over her shoulders and down her back. Before Id met Sloane, I didnt know that it was possible to dress the way she did, that anyone not heading to a photo shoot dressed with that much style. My own wardrobe had improved immeasurably since wed become friends, mostly stuff shed picked for me, but some things Id found myself and felt brave enough to wear when I was with her, knowing that she would appreciate it.

She picked up a pair of gold-rimmed aviators, only slightly bent, and slipped them on, turning to me for my opinion. I nodded and then noticed a guy, who looked a few years younger than us, staring at Sloane.Sure, I said easily as I walked a few steps away from 24 Morgan Matson her, making my way up toward the register, pretending to be interested in a truly hideous pair of earrings that seemed to be made out of some kind of tinsel. I didnt care what I had to promise if it meant Sloane would be there.

It was like she was giving me the opportunity to do some things over again, and differently this time. Now customize the name of a clipboard to store your clips. I let out a shaky breath. Unwanteds 6: Without even trying? I heard the low rumble of an engine and looked up, fast, pushing my hair out of my face, feeling hope flare once more in my chest.

I hadnt known what hed meant by this, but I could tell by his tone of voice that it hadnt been a compliment.

We had concert tickets downloadd, she had told me she had mapped out something called a pizza crawl, and I had decided we should spend the summer seeking out Stanwichs best cupcake.

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