1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 where she went 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25S 26 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 Gayle Forman 20 21 22 23 24 25S d u t t o n b o o k s An imprint of Penguin Group (USA) Inc. 26 d u t t o n b o o k s A member of Penguin Group (USA) Inc. Published by the Penguin Group | Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, U.S.A. | Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto, Ontario M4P 2Y3, Canada (a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.) | Penguin Books Ltd, 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England | Penguin Ireland, 25 St Stephen’s Green, Dublin 2, Ireland (a division of Penguin Books Ltd) | Penguin Group (Australia), 250 Camberwell Road, Camberwell, Victoria 3124, Australia (a division of Pearson Australia Group Pty Ltd) | Penguin Books India Pvt Ltd, 11 Community Centre, Panchsheel Park, New Delhi - 110 017, India | Penguin Group (NZ), 67 Apollo Drive, Rosedale, North Shore 0632, New Zealand (a division of Pearson New Zealand Ltd.) | Penguin Books (South Africa) (Pty) Ltd, 24 Sturdee Avenue, Rosebank, Johannesburg 2196, South Africa | Penguin Books Ltd, Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. Copyright © 2011 by Gayle Forman, Inc. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system now known or to be invented, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer who wishes to quote brief passages in connection with a review written for inclusion in a magazine, newspaper, or broadcast. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third- party websites or their content. Epigraph: Copyright © 1931, 1958 by Edna St. Vincent Millay and Norma Millay Ellis. Reprinted with permission of Elizabeth Barnett, The Millay Society. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Forman, Gayle. Where she went / by Gayle Forman. — 1st ed. p. cm. Sequel to: If I stay. Summary: Adam, now a rising rock star, and Mia, a successful cellist, reunite in New York and reconnect after the horrific events that tore them apart when Mia almost died in a car accident three years earlier. ISBN 978-0-525-42294-5 (hardcover) [1. Interpersonal relations—Fiction. 2. Emotional problems—Fiction. 3. Rock music—Fiction. 4. Violoncello—Fiction. 5. New York (N.Y.) —Fiction.] I. Title. PZ7.F75876Wh 2011 [Fic]--dc22 2010013474 Published in the United States by Dutton Books, a member of Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 345 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014 www.penguin.com/youngreaders Designed by Abby Kuperstock Printed in USA | First Edition | 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1 1 2 3 4 f or m y pa r e n ts : 5 for saying I can. 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25S 26 1 2 3 4 It well may be that in a difficult hour, 5 Pinned down by pain and moaning for release, 6 Or nagged by want past resolution’s power, 7 I might be driven to sell your love for peace, 8 Or trade the memory of this night for food. 9 It well may be. I do not think I would. 10 11 12 Excerpt from “Love is not all: it is not meat nor drink.” 13 by edna st. vincent millay 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25S 26 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 where she went 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25S 26 1 2 3 4 ONE 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 Every morning I wake up and I tell myself this: It’s just 16 one day, one twenty-four-hour period to get yourself through. 17 I don’t know when exactly I started giving myself this 18 daily pep talk—or why. It sounds like a twelve-step 19 mantra and I’m not in Anything Anonymous, though to 20 read some of the crap they write about me, you’d think 21 I should be. I have the kind of life a lot of people would 22 probably sell a kidney to just experience a bit of. But 23 still, I find the need to remind myself of the temporari-24 ness of a day, to reassure myself that I got through yes-25S terday, I’ll get through today. 26 This morning, after my daily prodding, I glance at the minimalist digital clock on the hotel nightstand. It reads 11:47, positively crack-of-dawn for me. But the front desk has already rang with two wake-up calls, followed by a polite-but-firm buzz from our manager, Aldous. Today might be just one day, but it’s packed. I’m due at the studio to lay down a few final guitar tracks for some Internet-only version of the first single of our just-released album. Such a gimmick. Same song, new guitar track, some vocal effects, pay an extra buck for it. “These days, you’ve gotta milk a dollar out of every dime,” the suits at the label are so fond of reminding us. After the studio, I have a lunch interview with some reporter from Shuffle. Those two events are kinda like the bookends of what my life has become: making the music, which I like, and talking about making the music, which I loathe. But they’re flip sides of the same coin. When Aldous calls a second time I finally kick off the duvet and grab the prescription bottle from the side table. It’s some anti-anxiety thing I’m supposed to take when I’m feeling jittery. Jittery is how I normally feel. Jittery I’ve gotten used to. But ever since we kicked off our tour with three shows at Madison Square Garden, I’ve been feeling something else. Like I’m about to be sucked into something powerful and painful. Vortexy. 4 Is that even a word? I ask myself. 1 You’re talking to yourself, so who the hell cares? I reply, 2 popping a couple of pills. I pull on some boxers, and 3 go to the door of my room, where a pot of coffee is 4 already waiting. It’s been left there by a hotel employee, 5 undoubtedly under strict instructions to stay out of my 6 way. 7 I finish my coffee, get dressed, and make my way 8 down the service elevator and out the side entrance— 9 the guest-relations manager has kindly provided me 10 with special access keys so I can avoid the scenester pa-11 rade in the lobby. Out on the sidewalk, I’m greeted by a 12 blast of steaming New York air. It’s kind of oppressive, 13 but I like that the air is wet. It reminds me of Oregon, 14 where the rain falls endlessly, and even on the hottest 15 of summer days, blooming white cumulus clouds float 16 above, their shadows reminding you that summer’s heat 17 is fleeting, and the rain’s never far off. 18 In Los Angeles, where I live now, it hardly ever rains. 19 And the heat, it’s never-ending. But it’s a dry heat. Peo-20 ple there use this aridness as a blanket excuse for all of 21 the hot, smoggy city’s excesses. “It may be a hundred 22 and seven degrees today,” they’ll brag, “but at least it’s a 23 dry heat.” 24 But New York is a wet heat; by the time I reach the 25S studio ten blocks away on a desolate stretch in the West 26 5 Fifties, my hair, which I keep hidden under a cap, is damp. I pull a cigarette from my pocket and my hand shakes as I light up. I’ve had a slight tremor for the last year or so. After extensive medical checks, the doctors declared it nothing more than nerves and advised me to try yoga. When I get to the studio, Aldous is waiting outside under the awning. He looks at me, at my cigarette, back at my face. I can tell by the way that he’s eyeballing me, he’s trying to decide whether he needs to be Good Cop or Bad Cop. I must look like shit because he opts for Good Cop. “Good morning, Sunshine,” he says jovially. “Yeah? What’s ever good about morning?” I try to make it sound like a joke. “Technically, it’s afternoon now. We’re running late.” I stub out my cigarette. Aldous puts a giant paw on my shoulder, incongruously gentle. “We just want one guitar track on ‘Sugar,’ just to give it that little something extra so fans buy it all over again.” He laughs, shakes his head at what the business has become.