The New York Times bestselling “taut, sophisticated thriller” ( BCCB , starred review) packed with twists and turns that will leave you breathless. They say Delia burned herself to death in her stepfather’s shed. They say it was suicide. But June doesn’t believe it. June and Delia used to be closer than anything. Best friends in that way that comes before everyone else—before guys, before family. It was like being in love, but more. They had a billion secrets, binding them together like thin silk cords. But one night a year ago, everything changed. June, Delia, and June’s boyfriend Ryan were just having a little fun. Their good time got out of hand. And in the cold blue light of morning, June knew only this—things would never be the same again. And now, a year later, Delia is dead. June is certain she was murdered. And she owes it to her to find out the truth…which is far more complicated than she ever could have imagined. Sexy, dark, and atmospheric, Suicide Notes from Beautiful Girls will keep you guessing until the very last page. "Weingarten keeps the tension taut; every time June resolves to answer a question, it raises two more. The novel is quietly suspenseful; readers will be draw to the well-written and well-rounded characters—even the supporting players. Thoughtful and provocative, this will be a hard book for teen readers to put down until the thrilling, twisted end." ― School Library Journal “Simultaneously a pulse-pounding, breathtakingly twisty thriller and a complex, unflinching, heart-breaking examination of female friendship, Suicide Notes From Beautiful Girls is a story of love, damage, and an all-consuming relationship with the power to save or destroy--and it's unforgettable." -- Robin Wasserman "Twisted and intense in all the right ways, Suicide Notes from Beautiful Girls will keep you guessing (and your pulse racing) until its stark, shocking conclusion." -- Micol Ostow, author of the NYPL Favorite Spooky Tale AMITY "A taut, sophisticated thriller." ― BCCB, starred review Lynn Weingarten is a writer and editor. She is the author of Wherever Nina Lies , The Secret Sisterhood of Heartbreakers , The Book of Love , Suicide Notes from Beautiful Girls , and Bad Girls with Perfect Faces . She lives in Brooklyn, New York. Suicide Notes from Beautiful Girls Chapter 1 I’d forgotten what it was like to be that alone. For the ten days of winter break, I drove. I made my way past the crumbling houses in my neighborhood, the mansions a few miles away, out toward the hills and then back again through stretches of cold, flat land. Up and down the Schuylkill River and up and down the Delaware, I cranked the radio and sang loud. I needed to hear a live human voice, and I was my own best hope. But now break is over. I’m walking up toward school from the far lot, and I’m happy because I’m here, because it’s done. I know you’re supposed to like vacation, but it was lonely, that’s the thing, like I was floating off into space, tethered to nothing. My phone buzzes in my pocket. I fish it out, a text from Ryan who I haven’t seen yet because he only got home last night: by the way got somehting in vermont I want to give you. Then a second later another one: not herpes. I write back: good because it would be really awkward if we got each other the same present. I click send with one frozen finger. Warm puffs of air escape through my smile. I walk into homeroom, and Krista looks up like she’s been waiting for me. “Oh my God, June,” she says. Her eyes are half open, and she’s wearing a pair of red plastic glasses instead of her usual contacts. “Is it possible, medically, that I’m still hungover from Tuesday? That was two entire days ago!” She takes her big orange purse off the chair next to her so I can sit. “Given everything, yeah, that seems likely,” I say. She grins as though I mean this as a compliment. The only thing I did over break, other than drive, was go to a party at Krista’s boyfriend’s house, which is a little weird since we’re not close friends or anything. But we talk in homeroom sometimes, and neither of us has a lot of other options, is I guess the truth of it. When I got the text about her boyfriend’s party, I’d been alone for so many days that I just said yes. Her boyfriend, Rader, lives thirty-five minutes away, right at the edge of Philly, in a run-down apartment that he shares with friends. He’s older, and his friends are too, some of them in their twenties. The party was mostly guys and the air was hazy with a few kinds of smoke. When I walked in, Krista was already trashed and going upstairs to Rader’s bedroom. And I felt all these guys turn and give me the up-down. And I suddenly understood why I’d been invited—not for her, but for them. I spent the whole night leaning against the wall, not really talking to anyone, watching the party like a movie. “Rader asked me to get your number for Buzzy,” she says. She rubs her eyes.