By Lauren Oliver
New York Times bestselling writer Lauren Oliver promises a gripping tale ideal for lovers of We have been Liars and I was once Here, approximately sisters inexorably altered by way of a poor accident.
Dara and Nick was inseparable, yet that was once sooner than the twist of fate that left Dara's appealing face scarred and the 2 sisters absolutely estranged.
When Dara vanishes on her birthday, Nick thinks Dara is simply fooling around. yet one other lady, nine-year-old Madeline Snow, has vanished, too, and Nick turns into more and more confident that the 2 disappearances are associated. Now Nick has to discover her sister, ahead of it truly is too late.
In this edgy and compelling novel, Lauren Oliver creates a global of intrigue, loss, and suspicion as sisters seek to discover themselves, and every other.
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Extra resources for Vanishing Girls
A bit of drained. i would cross lie down for it slow. ” She seems like she doesn’t fairly think me. fortunately, she doesn’t press. “I’ll be here,” she says. Upstairs, I head to Dara’s room—or what used to be Dara’s room, and now turns into a visitor room, fresh and impersonal and inoffensively embellished, with framed photos of Monet prints placing on partitions painted Eggshell #12. Already, it appears to be like a lot greater than it ever did, either since it has been cleared of all of Dara’s issues and likewise simply because Dara herself was once so enormous, so alive and indisputable. every little thing shrank round her. And but in just a number of hours we’ve controlled to erase her nearly fullyyt. All of her things—bought, bought, painstakingly chosen; her tastes and personal tastes; all of the random stuff collected over years—all of it taken care of, trashed, or packed up in under an afternoon. How simply we get erased. The air smells a bit like burned sage. I tug the open window even farther and suck a deep breath of the fresh air, the scent of summer time turning slowly into fall—growth turning to mulch, the vegetables and blues pale through solar into amber tones. As I stand there, hearing the wind sing during the withered leaves of the rosebushes, I realize a dash of shiny colour within the reduce branches of the oak tree, as if a child’s crimson balloon has turn into entangled there. crimson. My center skips as much as my throat. now not a balloon—a piece of material, knotted round a department. A flag. initially i feel i have to be incorrect. It’s a twist of fate, or a visible trick, a few piece of trash inadvertently blown into the branches. nonetheless, i locate myself working downstairs, ignoring my aunt, who calls out, “I proposal you have been taking a nap,” and bursting out front door. I’m midway to the oak tree sooner than I detect I didn’t even cease to place on footwear; the floor is chilly and rainy underneath my socks. while I achieve the oak tree and spot the FanLand T-shirt swaying, pendulum-like, at the breeze, I snicker out loud. The sound surprises me. I observe it’s been a protracted time—maybe weeks—since I laughed. Aunt Jackie’s correct. Parker’s domestic. He opens front door even earlier than i will knock, or even even though it's been merely months considering the fact that I’ve obvious him, I grasp again, unexpectedly shy. He appears to be like by some means varied, even if he’s donning one in all his traditional nerdy T-shirts (Make Love now not Horcruxes) and the delicate denims nonetheless traced with ink from the place he obtained bored in calc senior 12 months and began doodling. “You cheated,” is the very first thing he says. “I’m a bit too outdated to slot during the fence,” I say. “Understandable. I’m beautiful convinced the castle has been commandeered by means of outdated patio furnishings, besides. The chairs introduced a stunning significant offensive. ” There’s a beat of silence. Parker steps out onto the porch and closes the door in the back of him, yet there are nonetheless numerous toes among us and that i can suppose each inch. I tuck my hair at the back of my ears, feeling, for only one moment, the trend of imagined scars underneath my hands, how it felt to be her. Guilt, Dr. Lichme informed me matter-of-factly. On a few point you think you have been completely broken through the coincidence.