If I Stay

What would you do if you had to choose

On a day that started like any other…
Mia had everything: A loving family, a gorgeous, adoring boyfriend, and a bright future full of music and full of choices. Then, in an instant, almost all of that was all taken from her. Caught between life and death, between a happy past and an unknowable future, Mia spends one critical day contemplating the only decision she has left= the most important decision she’ll ever make. Will she stay or leave wait
I brianna can't see anything it's a
L blank and white
The choice How am I supposed to decide this? How can I possibly stay without Mom and Dad? How can I leave without Teddy? Or Adam? This is too much.
I don’t even understand how this works, why I’m here in the state that I’m in or how to get out of it if
I wanted to. If I were to say, I want to wake up I
,

would I wake up right now? I already tried snapping my heels to find Teddy and trying to beam myself to
Hawaii, and that didn’t work.This seems a whole lot more complicated. But in spite of that, I believe it’s true. I hear the nurse’s words again. I am running the show. Everyone is waiting on me. I decide. I know this now. And it terrifies me more than anything else that has happened to me.
The Realness Is real

7:09 A.M. and there is no school. Mia is not

surprised, even the smallest amount of snow in
Oregon is a humongous deal. So Mia, her brother
Teddy, her mom, and dad have breakfast, get ready for the day, and leave to go to there grandma and grandpa’s house to visit. They were having an ordinary car ride. Teddy wanted Spongebob, Mia wanted the classic station, Mom wanted NPR and
Dad wanted Frank Sinatra, after they decide on how it goes, Mia’s music is on and she practiced playing on an imaginary cello she laid her head on the window and closed her eyes. All of a sudden…

The impact of a four- ton pickup truck going sixty miles an hour plowing straight into the passenger side had the force of an atom bomb. It tore off the doors, sent the front-side passenger seat through the driver’s-side window. It flipped the chassis, bouncing it across the road and ripped the engine apart as if it were no stronger than a spiderweb. It tossed wheels and hubcaps deep into the forest. It ignited bits of the gas tank, so that now tiny flames lap at the wet road. There was so much noise. A symphony of grinding, a chorus of popping, an aria of exploding, and finally, the sad clapping of hard metal cutting into soft trees. Then it went quiet, except for this:

Beethoven’s