acognizantv5releaseaugust312010

TableofContents

ABOUTTHEAUTHORTitlePageCopyrightPageDedicationEpigraph

ThaddeusThaddeus

Acknowledgements

PraiseforLightBoxes“ReadingthisbookmakesyourealizewhatourAmericanliteraturehasbeenmissing.Whollyoriginal,tremendouslyimaginative,writtenwiththedeftesthand,LightBoxesmakessenseofmodernlife

inthewayonlydreamscan.”

—JoeMeno,authorofTheGreatPerhaps

“Atlast,abookthatcriesouttoourinnerballoonists.ShaneJoneshasbuiltafablethatisfreshandsurprising,butalsofamiliarinthewaythattheoldeststoriesarefamiliar.Irecommendkeepinga

copyortwohandyatalltimes.”

—JedediahBerry,authorofTheManualofDetection

“InhisdebutnovelShaneJonesachievesaglitteringclearnessthatalliesittoBrautigan’sInWatermelonSugar.Thereissensethatcuriosityandhopearethequalitieswemostrequire,thatwe

mustresorttoinourperil.Balloonists,aloft!”

—JesseBall,authorofSameditheDeafness

“ShaneJonesisawriterwhodarestoplaymake-believeinthistiredagewhentoomuchfictionistiedtothatwhichisonlyreal.Readthisbook.Heeditsinventivewarnings.”

—PeterMarkus,authorofBob,orManonBoat

“ReadingLightBoxesmademefeellikeIwaswalkingthroughaseriesofstrange,interestingroomsthatI’dneverbeeninbefore.Italsomademefeelsad,especiallyattheendwhenitfinishedandI

wantedtocarryonreading.ShaneJonesisoneofmyfavoritenewwriters.”

—ChrisKillen,authorofTheBirdRoom

ABOUTTHEAUTHOR

Shane Joneswas born in February of 1980.His poetry and short fiction haveappeared in numerous literary journals, including New York Tyrant, Unsaid,TypoandPindeldyboz.HelivesinupstateNewYork.Thisishisfirstnovel.

PENGUINBOOKSPublishedbythePenguinGroup

PenguinGroup(USA)Inc.,375HudsonStreet,NewYork,NewYork10014,U.S.A.PenguinGroup(Canada),90EglintonAvenueEast,Suite700,Toronto,Ontario,CanadaM4P2Y3(adivisionofPearsonPenguinCanadaInc.)PenguinBooksLtd,80Strand,LondonWC2R0RL,EnglandPenguinIreland,25StStephen’sGreen,Dublin2,Ireland(adivisionofPenguinBooksLtd)PenguinGroup(Australia),250CamberwellRoad,Camberwell,Victoria3124,Australia(adivisionofPearson

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FirstpublishedintheUnitedStatesofAmericabyPublishingGeniusPress2009PublishedinPenguinBooks2010

Copyright©ShaneJones,2009

Allrightsreserved

PUBLISHER’SNOTEThisisaworkoffiction.Names,characters,places,andincidentseitheraretheproductoftheauthor’simaginationorareusedfictitiously,andanyresemblancetoactualpersons,livingordead,business

establishments,events,orlocalesisentirelycoincidental.

eISBN:978-1-101-42959-4

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ForMelanie

ThemostseriouschargewhichcanbebroughtagainstNewEnglandisnotPuritanismbutFebruary.

—JosephWoodKrutch,TheTwelveSeasons

Thaddeus

Wesatonthehill.Wewatchedtheflamesinsidetheballoonsheatthefabrictoneoncolors.Thechildrenplayed

Prediction.Theypointedtoemptyholesintheskyandwaited.Sometimesalltheballoons

litupatonceandproduced thenightlyumbrellaeffectover the townbeneath,whosebuildingswerefillingwiththesadnessofFebruary.Nightslikethiswillsoondie,Selahwhisperedinmyear.Days became cooler, clouds thickened.We sat on the hill.Wewatched the

flamesinsidetheballoonsheatthefabrictoneoncolors.Nightslikethiswillsoondie,saidBianca.Sheranfromthewoods,whereshe

sawthreechildrentwistingtheheadsofowls.Nightslikethiswillsoondie,saidthebutchers,marchingdownthehill.Wesatthereforthelasttimetowatchtheballoons,theneoncolorsstitchedin

ourminds.Pigsshrieked,andwindowsshatteredacrossthetown.Asnout,massiveand

pink,tracedthesideofaballooninitsarc.Thefabricstretchedaroundthedarknostrilsandstoppedjustbeforetearing,anditstayedthere.Still the children stood in a linewith their lanterns raised towatch the first

snowfallofFebruarycoverthecropfields.Selahloweredherhead.Selahfoldedherhandsinherlap.Selahlookedatthe

backsofthechildren’sheadsandsawiceformknotsintheirhair.Wecanonlypray,whisperedSelah.IlookedatSelahandrememberedthedandelionsstuckinherteeth.Ithought

ofaburningsun,anice-bergmeltinginherfoldedhands.

Theyheldhands.Theyformed

dozens of circles around their deflated, smoldering balloons. Balloons, silken

globes in thecolorsmagenta,grassgreenandskyblue,weremud-strewn,wetwithholywaterandburnedblackthroughthestitching.Biancasaid,Idon’tunderstand.Thaddeussaid,Idon’teither.IsthisFebruary’sdoing,shesaid.Maybe,saidThaddeus,wholookedupatthesky.A scroll of parchment was nailed to an oak tree, calling for the end of all

things that could fly. Everyone in town gathered around to read it. Trumpetsmoaned from the woods. Birds dropped from branches. The priests walkedthroughtownswingingaxes.BiancaclutchedThaddeus’sleg,andhepickedherupunderthearmsandtoldhertoholdhimlikeababytreearoundtheneck,andThaddeusran.Backoutsidetheirhome,theballoonswerespreadoutontheground.Baskets

hackedbyaxes.Thepriestsdippedtheirlanternsintothefabricoftheballoons.Thaddeus,SelahandBiancaandothersfromtownformedacirclebyholding

hands.February,theyrepeateduntilitbecameachant.Untiltheyallimaginedalittle

treesproutingthroughthecenteroftheirburningballoon.

Thepriestswalkeddownthe

hillandintotownwheretheystoppedat thetownschoolandthetownlibrary.They confiscated textbooks, tore out pages about birds, flying machines,Zeppelins,witchesonbrooms,balloons,kites,wingedmythicalcreatures.Theycrumpleduppaperairplanesthechildrenhadfolded,andtheydumpedthepagesintoaburningpitinthewoods.Thepriestssanktheirrustyspikedshovelsintothemoundofdirtandrefilled

the hole. Some of the priests felt tears roll down their cheeks but didn’t feelsadness.Othersforcedtheirmindstounravelthememoryofwind.Theynailedasecond scroll of parchment to a second oak tree. It stated that all thingspossessingtheabilitytoflyhadbeendestroyed.Itsaidthatnoonelivinginthetownshouldspeakofflighteveragain.Itwassigned,February.

Thaddeus,BiancaandSelahpaintedballoonseverywheretheycould.Theypulledupfloorboardsandpaintedrowsof

balloons onto the dusty oak. Bianca drew tiny balloons on the bottoms ofteacups.Behindthebathroommirror,underthekitchentableandontheinsidesof cabinet doors, balloons appeared. And then Selah painted an intricateintertwining of kites on Bianca’s hands andwrists, the tails extending up herforearmsandaroundhershoulders.How longwill February last, Bianca asked, stretching her hands out to her

mother,whowasblowingonherarms.I reallyhaveno idea,saidThaddeus,whowatched thesnowfalloutside the

kitchenwindow.Inthedistancethesnowformedintomountainsontopofmountains.Finished,hermothersaid.Youwillhavetowearlongsleevesfromnowon.

Butyou’llneverforgetflight.Youcanwearbeautifuldresses—that’swhatyoucanwear.Bianca studied her arms. The kiteswere yellowwith black tails. The color

meltedintoherskin.Abreezeblewoverthefreshinkandthroughherhair.

Thaddeus

I kept a kite hidden in my workshop where the priests couldn’t find it. Iunfolded thekite fromitsdustyboxand toldBiancashecouldfly it fora fewminutes. I tried to see if the priests were in the woods but only saw owlssidesteppingthroughthesnow.Isaidtotryagainafterthekitefailedtotakeoff.Ahandpushedthekitetothe

ground.She trieda fewmore times, and thekite slammeddownward. I sawacloudshaped likeahand. I thoughtofBiancaandherhappiness likebricks inmud.It’sFebruary,saidBianca.Isaid,I’msorrythisdidn’tworkout.Wecantryagain.What’sthepoint,shesaid.It’stheendofflight.It’sFebruary.Thepoint,Isaid,istokeeptryingforthesakeoftrying.Thatweekweattemptedtoflythekiteeachnight.Butwhatfelt likeawind

gust on my skin wasn’t enough to carry the kite. I went into my workshop,grabbedsomeglass jars,andbackoutsideIhanded themtoBianca. I took thekiteandranasfast Icould. I ran likeamadman,mymouthopen inasadair-swallowingattempt,heardBianca laughing in thedistance, lookeddreamedofSelah andBianca holding handswithAugust, carried the kite atmy shoulderuntilIletitgoandfeltitcollapseonmyback.Ifellface-firstontheground,atesnowandmud,toremykneeopenonarock.Backupthehill,Biancaswirledtheglassjarsthroughtheair.Thekitesonher

armstwitched.Here, she said, handingme the jarswith careful, kite-stringed fingers.They

are full now.Maybe theProfessor can figureoutwhat iswrongwithour sky.MaybewecanfigureoutFebruary.

Bianca

When I was really little,my father came intomy bedroomwith a sheet offabrichesaidwouldonedayflyinthesky.I’llshowyou,hesaid,sittingdownontheedgeofthebed,thenslidingtoward

themiddle,whereIsatwithmylegscrossed.Through my bedroom window, I watched a tree lose a branch under the

weight of snow that had been falling for months. Before the branch hit theground,asheetofyellowfabricfloateddownovermyeyes.Itfeltlikesilkandsmelledofoilandstreamwater.Iheardtheclankofmetal,andthenahotflamenearthebackofmyneck,and

then the fabric lifted from my face, and it bloomed into a giant flower thattouchedtheceilingandgrewtowardthecornersofmybedroom.Whatdoesthisfeellike,myfathersaid.It’slikebeinginsideoneofthoseglobestheshopkeepersmakeintown,Isaid,

now standing on the bed, fingertips reaching toward the flower. It feelswonderful.Itfeelslikehappiness.Itwillbecalled,myfathersaid,aballoon.

Inthecropfield,fourpeoplearefoundstandingwiththeirheadstiltedbackandarms frozen to their sides.Eyes closed, theirmouths stretchedopen and filledwithsnow.

ThaddeuswasbuyingappleswhenheoverheardthegroupofformerballoonistsknownastheSolution.Howmuch can we put up with. Howmany days will this dreadful season

extenditself.OurtownisaplaceofnoflightandallsnowbecauseofFebruary.Therewerefiveofthem,tallandthin,wearinglongbrowncoatsandblacktop

hats.Theyhadthinplasticmasksovertheirfaces.Eachmaskwaspaintedasadifferent-coloredbird.You,saidoneofthemembers,whograbbedThaddeus’sshoulderandturned

himaround.Thaddeus faced the Solution, holding his basket of apples tight against his

chest.

We’re startinga rebellion, awar, saidayellowbirdmask, againstFebruaryandwhatitstandsfor.Awar,repeatedThaddeus.Yes,awar,awar,awar,theSolutionrepeated.Anorangebirdmaskcontinued,We’re sickofFebruary,whowebelieve is

responsiblenotonlyforaseasonofendlessgrayandsnowbuttheendofflight.A blue bird mask lurched forward and placed a square of parchment in

Thaddeus’scoatpocket.HeknockedoneofThaddeus’sapplesoutofthebasketandintoapileofsnow.Rememberus,saidtheSolution.Andtheydisbanded,walking,dreamingofflying,inseparatedirections.

Professor

At the entrance to our town stands the Peter statue. Peter initiated the birdmigration.Thisledtotheageofflight,whichisararetimeofrecordedjoyforour town.Theskywasa landofballoontravel,birdflightpatternsandflying-machineexperiments.Theafternoonswerehot,theeveningscoolwhenwewentto the topof thehill towatch thenightlyumbrellaeffect.Wewalkedbarefootthroughstreams.Thechildrenexplodedinpilesofcorduroyleaves.WenamedthechangesinweatherSpring,Summer,FallandFebruary.Peterbelievedinthelifeofflightevenwhenhewasboundwithtwinetohis

balloonbythepriestsandsenttoadeadlyaltitude.PeterbelievedthatthemonthofFebruaryshouldbeeliminated,thatitwaspossibletomovecloudswithlongpolesandextendtheseasonsofSpringandSummer.Hesaiditcouldbetakenfurther,thatutopiaincludedatownthatknewonlyJuneandJuly.HewroteonarchivedparchmentthatifFebruarywereallowedtoexpand,itwouldinfestourmoodsandkidnapourchildren.

Thaddeus

TheSolutioncametomywindowlastnight.Theyhadontheirbirdmasksandblack top hats. They wore a single brown scarf around their necks. I said IunderstoodtheneedtorebelandprotectourtownagainstFebruary.Iremindedthemofthetacticsusedlastyear.Mostimportant,theysaid,thinkofyourdaughter,Bianca.I saw that some snow had gathered in a corner on the ceiling. I grabbed a

broomtosweepitaway.WhenIturnedbackaround,theSolutionwaswalkingawayintothesnowfall.

Itlookedliketheywereskipping.Iclosedmyeyes.IimaginedSelahandBiancainacanoesonarrowtheyhad

to lie downwith their arms folded on their stomachs, their heads at oppositeends,theirtoestouching.Idreamedtwominiaturesuns.Isetoneeachupontheirforeheads. I dreamed a waterfall and a calm lake ofmy arms below to catchthem.

Bianca

I know itwas important to get up, butmybody felt tooheavy.Myparentsstood next to my bed and spoke slowly and moved slower. They said theirbladderswerebeingfilledwithleadandsoonitwouldriseintotheirchests.Myfather smiled and ran in place, a tactic used against February last year, but Icould see tears in his eyes, and then he stopped, shoulders slouched forward,headnearhisknees.Leadpouredfromhismouth.Myparentsclimbed intobedwithme.Thesmellofmintmademystomach

hurt.Theyheldme and toldmeeverythingwouldbe fine, that sadnesswouldrise fromourbonesandevaporate insunlight thewaymorningfogburnedofftheriverinsummer.Mymotherrubbedthekitesonmyhandsandarmsandtoldmetothinkofmylungsasballoons.Ijustwanttofeelsafe,Isaid.

Thaddeus

TheProfessortoldusthattoprotectBiancaweshouldfeedhermintleaves.Intherarewarmmonths,wegrewasmuchaswecould,takingpreciouscropspacetoharvesthugebushelsofmintweuseinthenightlytea,bathwaterandSELAH’SMINTSOUP

8cupschickenstock2cupsmintleaves3largeeggs½teaspoonsalt¼teaspoonblackpepperAtnightSelahrubsmintleavesintomybeardandpatsmylipsdrywithmintleaves.IbraidmintleavesintoSelah’shair.Iwhisperintoherear,Youaremysparrow.ThroughthenightwecheckonBianca.WhenBiancaawakesscreamingagainstFebruary,SelahpicksherupandholdsherandtellsBiancatothinkofcloudlessskies,amooselettingherhangbyonehandfromhisnose.

CaldorClemens

ThaddeusLowe!Theguywhofliesballoons.Ispentmydayscollectingsapfrom the trees. Still do.Always covered in sap, tree bark splintered undermynails.I’d be in thewoods loosening the buckets and I’d hear the sky hissing. I’d

look up. I’d see a scrawny guy with a beard in a basket that had a balloonfastenedaboveit.Theballoonwasyellowwithgreenstitching.Hecouldn’thavebeenmorethanafewfeetabovethetallesttree.Atonepointthebasketbrushedtheheadsofthetreesandpineconesraineddown.Gavemeanastygashonmynose.Itastedblood,butthatwasnobother.Iwentupinaballoononcewithmysistersandwewatchedthesunrollacross

the horizon, clouds going red and pink, colors swirling around us in amist. Ishouldn’tbethinkingaboutthatanymore,becauseflightisover.SomepeopleinthistownsaythemorethoughtsyouhaveaboutflighttheworseFebruaryhauntsyou. And then there’s the priests, who have locked away believers of flightsomeplace at the edge of town. But that’s just a dumb rumor. Could be true,though. Ifgiven the chance, I’dbreakopen the skull ofFebruary. I’d swinganicebigbucket of sap right into the sideof his head andwatch the iceof hismindexplodelikeconfetti.Lastnighteveryoneintowndreamedthecloudsfellapartlikewetpaperintheirhands.

SixReportsfromthePriests1.TheSolutionattemptedtoflytoday.2.Theyfailed.3.TohellwithFebruary,onemembershouted.Therestcheered.Theyarealoudbunch.Theywearbirdmasks.Theythrowapplesthroughclouds.

4.Theballooncollapsedononeside.Theflamesshotup.Theflamesspilledoutandcrawledacrossthefieldandupthebirchtrees,whereflightlessbirdsburned.

5.Thesnowcontinuestofall.6.Therehasbeentalkofawar.

WhenThaddeusarrivedhome

hetoldSelahaboutawaragainstFebruary.ShebathedBiancainmintwater,ranaclothincirclesaroundherback.Idon’tknowifawarwillhelpanything,shesaid.It’stheSolution,saidThaddeus.Theyhavenothingtolose.Idon’tknow.It’s

somethingweshouldconsider.Forhersake.HetiltedhisheadtowardBianca.Come, said Selah, and Thaddeus followed her voice as if the word were a

hookthrownfromthebathwater.Hekneltdownbesidethetubandplacedhisfaceinthemintwater.Biancafelt

himclosetoherback.Thewaterrosetoherchin.SherememberedwhatitwasliketoswimintheriverwithJune.Thedraininthetubwasafishbitinghertoe.Thaddeus held his face in the water long enough for the mint to be fullyabsorbedintohisbeard.There,saidSelahtuggingupwardwithafistfulofThaddeus’shair.Waterpouredfromhisbeard.Thaddeuswalked into thekitchenandmadea

cupoftea, thenwentbackintothebathroom.HewatchedhiswifecontinuetobatheBianca.HemadesuretotiptheteacuphighenoughwhenhesippedsothatBiancacouldseetheballoonpaintedonthebottom.

Biancawhispersintothebathwater.

Maybethepriestsaren’treallypriests.Lookatthewaytheirsillyrobesmove.

Iwanttobesafe.Iwanttoliveinsideaturtleshell.

Thaddeustugsonhisbeard.

Alittlemintwaterdripsonhispalm.Herubshishandstogether.HewalksintoBianca’sbedroomandsoothesherarmsandlegswithhishands.Theideaisthatanysadnessthatoccursduringsleepcanbedecreasedbyinfusingmintintotheskin,intothelungsandheart.ThaddeusandSelahtaketurns,applyingthemintthroughoutthenight.Before daybreak, Thaddeus smells honey and smoke coming fromBianca’s

bedroom.Inherroomhenoticesthatthewindowisopenandsnowisblowingin.Hethrowsthecoversoffthebed.Helooksaroundtheroom.Helooksunderthebed.Helooksinthecloset.Helooksinthehallway.Helooksathisfeet.Helooksatthebed.Helooksatthebed.Bianca’sbedisamoundofsnowandteeth.Biancaisgone.

Thaddeus

I’ve been spendingmore time alone on the hill. I can’t remember it beingcolderthanitisnow.Thegroundisfrozenandblack,thetownwindowswebbedinsnowandice.WhenIsparkafirefromfoundbranchesasnowballfallsfromtheskyanddousestheflame.Ilookupatthesky,thegraywavesrollingalong.Iamgrowingtiredandsadatthedisappearanceofmydaughteranditstirsdeepinsideme.Isnapoffatreebranch.Iwhirlitaroundinhugecirclesbeforelettingitflyskyward.It fliesup,muchhigher thanI imagined,and,climbinghigherandhigher, it

ripsthroughacloud’sleg,peaksinflight, thendescendsagain, tearinganotherholethroughtheshoulderofacloud.In thefirsthole, there’sapairoffeetdanglingfromtheedge. In thesecond

hole, there’s amanwalking aroundadark room. I call down to thehouse forSelah who is shaking out Bianca’s bedsheet, which disintegrates into a littleblizzard.Am I dreaming right now, I shout. Can you check the bed to see if I’m

sleeping.No,you’renotdreaming,sheyellsbackaftergoinginsidetocheckourbed.

You’restandingoutsidebyyourselfwithyourthoughts.Yourdaughterhasbeenkidnapped and your thoughts are torturing you. Sometimes you wake in themiddleofthenightfromterribledreams,butrightnowyouareawake.Iwatchthetwoholesintheskyuntilanewbreakingofgrayrollsacross.Mymindisice.Selahyells,Iwantourdaughterback.Deerrunagainsttheedgeofthewoods.Twistedthroughtheirantlersisalong

quilt, a banner. The quilt says, WAR AGAINST FEBRUARY NOW WARAGAINST FEBRUARY NOW WAR AGAINST FEBRUARY NOW. TheSolutionwavesfromunderthepinetrees.Amaniscollectingsap.Ihesitatebutwaveback.

ThaddeustoBianca

Iclimbontheroof.Yourbedroomisbeneathme.Icloseoneeyeandreachmyhandoutandtearopenthehorizon.Ipulltheskyupandtowardmelikeoldwallpaper. I see you sleeping in a bedof duck feathers. I close both eyes andfinishthedreamofusinaballoon.Thenewskysmellsliketheocean.Itfeelslike crushed velvetwhen you push against it to send the balloon toward yourmotherwaitingonthehill.

Questions

Thaddeus asks the children twisting the heads of owls if they have seen asmallgirlnamedBiancainyellowpajamas.Thethreechildrensitagainstanoaktreewiththeirlegsstretchedout,snowasablankettotheirwaists.Dotheyellowpajamashaveflowersprintedatthehem,asksthemiddlechild.Yes,Thaddeussays.Does the little girl havedarkhair that smells of honey and smoke, asks the

childtotheleft.Thaddeus shakes his head. No, he thinks, she never smelled of honey and

smoke.Buttheroomdid.Yes,theroom.Theroomsmelledofhoneyandsmoke.Biancahasdarkhair.Herhairdoesn’t

smellofhoneyandsmoke,buttheroomdid.Does the littlegirlhaveadrawingofkitesonherhandsandarms, asks the

childtotheright.Yes, saysThaddeus.Hermotherpainted thosekites.Where ismydaughter.

Whathashappenedtomydaughter.Thechildrengobacktoconcentratingontwistingtheheadsoftheowls.No,wehaven’tseenher,theysay.Idon’tunderstand,though,yousaid,Thaddeussays.Now,ifyoudon’tmind,

sir,wearemuchenjoyingourselvesbyplayingwiththeseowls.Ihopeyoufindthelittlegirl.Shesoundsverycuteandverybeautiful.FortherestofthedayThaddeusaskseverypersonintowniftheyhaveseen

hisdaughter.Everyonesaysno.TheSolutionwalkspastThaddeus.Wecouldhelp,theysay,smiling.Theonewith thebluebirdmaskhandsThaddeusanapple,apologizes, then

runstocatchuptothegroup.

SelahandThaddeusdon’tsleep

forseveraldays, inwhichtheydecidethatawaragainstFebruaryisneededtocuretheirsadness.TheyinvitetheSolutiontotheirhome,whotalkforhoursonstrategy to destroyFebruary.When they drink their tea, they lift up their bird

masks to expose their blue-wintered lips. Thaddeus tries not to cry when ayellowbirdpasseshima list ofmissing children and asksThaddeus topleaseaddBianca’snamewherethereisroom.Hereadsthelistover.Hiseyesfillwithtears.HewritesdownBianca’sname.Willawarbringmydaughterback,asksThaddeus.Thebirdsalllookatoneanother.It’spossible,theysay.Anythingispossiblewhenyoustartawar.Iwantmydaughterback,saysThaddeus.Iwantherback,andIwantmywife

tobesafe.Heholdsherhand.

TheCatalogofMissingChildrenEvie Rhodes—taken from her bed on February the 127thCandace Smith—disappeared while feeding birds on February the 175th Adam Johnston—vanished while playing in a closet on February the 112th John Smith—alsodisappearedwhilefeedingbirdsonFebruarythe175thDanielHill—consideredlostinthewoodsonFebruarythe212thJoyceAikey—drownedwhiledivingforturtlesonFebruarythe188thJosephMendler—takenfromhisbedonFebruarythe 139th Estrella Roberts—vanished during a game of hide-and-seek onFebruarythe144thEmilyBoyce—drownedduringasnowballfightonFebruarythe222ndSarahLock—disappearedinablizzardonFebruarythe247thBiancaLowe—taken from her bed on February the 255thPeterTuner—never camehome from school onFebruary the 199thJessicaChambers—vanishedwhilewalkingwithherdogsonFebruarythe312thSuzyPeck—takenfromherbedonFebruarythe322nd

CaldorClemens

IwasThad’snumber-oneguyduringthewaragainstFebruary.That’sright,numberone.Therighthandman.Topwolf.Ortopdog.Whatever.I thoughtThadwascrazedbecauseof thekidnappingofBianca.Butafter I

noticedachangeinthewaysofthetownduringtheseasonofFebruary,Iwentto his housewith the Solution to talk about thewar. Eachweekwe recruitedmore andmore people from the town, awholemess of us cramped up there.Everyonedrankteaorsomeshit.Idrankvodkawithmud.BeforeThadspoke,theSolutiontoldmehewastheonetheywerelookingfor

toleadthewar.Hewastheirguy.Hewastheirwolftoleadthiswar.Allright,Ithought,let’sseewhatthisguyhasgottosay.Theone thing that reallymademewant tobeapartof thewar,besides the

factthatitwasbloodyexciting,waswhatThadandtheProfessorshowedusonenight. Itwas called amood chart. It explained howourmoods change by theseasons.Now, I’mnot theProfessor, but itwas real clear that somethingwashappeningtousduringtheseasonofFebruary.Thesadnessquotientpeaked,orwhateverit’sactuallycalled.Thadpointedtoachartwithanascendinglineandafrowningface.AndtohearabouthispoorlittlegirlmissingandtoseemyownkidsknockingtheirheadsagainstawallallFebruarylong,itmademesoangrythatIdecidedIwouldgivemyheart,myblood,fortheWarEffort.

ThefirstattackonFebruary

occurs.Thaddeus,Selah,CaldorClemensandtheSolutiondeviseaplantotrickFebruarybypretendingit’ssummer.Thementaketheirshirtsoffandrolltheirpants into a ring at their kneecaps and call them shorts. Selah wears a thinsummerdress,theonesheworewhileonherfirstballoontripwithThaddeus.Itsmellslikecedarandgrassclippingsfromthefloorofhisworkshop.Therestofthewomenwearskirts.Theyunbuttontheirblousesanduntietheirbonnets.The War Effort claps while discussing the warm weather. They imagine

beamsofunfilteredsunlightstrikingtheirbacksastheytendtothecrops.Caldor Clemens pretends to pick berries. He wipes sweat from his brow

beforedivingintoapileofsnowandswimming.Thaddeus and Selahmove away from the group tomake love in the naked

snow. They tell each other to concentrate on the ocean teasing their toes, thesand in their hair. Selah imagines that the melting snow between her legs issweat.Thaddeus licks the icefromher lashes,pushes into thesnow.Theyfeelwatchedandexcited.At the endof theday, thegroup struggles to smile.Their bones are frozen.

TheywalkintoThaddeusandSelah’shometohavetea.Everyoneisexhausted,theirfacesbeatenredbyFebruary.We should continue with this tactic until we see some progress, says

Thaddeus.Theyallagreebywayoftippingtheirteacups.

Selah

One of the strongest supporters of the war was a wild man named CaldorClemens.Clemenswasaformermemberof thegroupofballoonistsknownastheSolution.TheSolutionwasacollectiveofnineortenbird-maskedmenwhorefusedtoobeythelawsof theendofflight.TheSolutionstagedfreefallsoffthe tops of buildings and tied kites like leashes to shop doors. Theywere anaggressivebunch.Iwantedmydaughterback.Iwantedmyhusbandtobesafe.SowhenIsaw

Caldor Clemens, all seven feet, three hundred pounds of him standing at mydoorwithtearsrunningdownhischeeks,IpulledhimintomyhomebythewristandtoldhimthattheblamecouldbeplaceddirectlyonFebruary.Thatawarcanonlyhelpus.ThisisCaldorClemens,Isaid.It’snicetomeetyou,saidmyhusband.

ScrapsofParchmentFoundUnderSelah’sPillow

Iwantmydaughterback.Iwantmydaughterback.Iwantmydaughterback.Iwantmydaughterback.Iwantmydaughterback.Iwantmydaughterback.Iwantmydaughterback.Iwantmydaughterback.Iwantmydaughterback.Iwantmydaughterback.Iwantmydaughterback.Iwantmydaughterback.Iwantmydaughterback.Iwantmydaughterback.Iwantmydaughterback.Iwantmydaughterback.Iwantmydaughterback.Iwantmydaughterback.Iwantmydaughterback.Iwantmydaughterback.Iwantmydaughterback.

Thaddeus

Today I took a trip into town with Caldor Clemens. The air was cold andsmelledlikeapples.Isawafoxsittingonamailbox.Hehadduckfeathersinhismouth. People asked about thewar against February.We couldn’t answer thequestionsfastenough.Thecrowdcircledustenrowsdeep.Here,saidClemens,andhekneltdown.Feelingsomewhatfoolish,Iclimbed

ontohisshoulders,whereIsatperchedhighabovethecrowdoncehestood.ItoldthetownsfolkthatthewaragainstFebruarywasasnecessaryastheair

webreathed.Ifwerefusedtofightback,thecoldandgraywouldsettlelikeanendlessblanketofrocks.ItoldthemtorememberwhatitwasliketoholdhandswithMay.Itoldthemtorememberwhatthestreamssoundedlikeoutsidetheirbedroomwindows,thewaterpouringoverAugustrocks,thebirdscallingfrombranchesofgreen,dogshowlingintheplains.Itoldthemtoclosetheireyesandignorethesnowmeltingontheirfacesbuttorememberwhatitlookedandfeltlikewhentheywokeinthemorningtothesundrapedovertheirbeds,overtheirbarefeet.Clemens reachedupandgrabbedmearoundmyribs.He liftedmefromhis

shoulderswithastrangegraceandeleganceandplacedmebackonmyowntwofeet.Greatspeech,Thad.Really,really,reallygood.Clemenspunchedme in theshoulder. It leftabruise theshapeofamallet’s

head.

CaldorClemens

Thadpausedforamoment.Thesmellofmintleavesroselikesmokefromhisskin. Then hemumbled a few positive comments. LIFE IS GOOD. PEOPLELAUGHWITH JULY. FEBRUARY ISNOTHING,BECAUSE FEBRUARYISSHIT.Hedidn’t really say that lastone. I said that.The smell stopped.Hepointedat thesky.He toldmeto lookforagirl’s feet throughahole.HesaidtheycouldbeBianca’s.Ididn’tseeanythingbutcloudssuffocatinglittlestars.Wewatchedforafewminutesuntilhesaidthatamanandawomanwereinasecondhole.StillIdidn’tseeadamnthing.Thadsaidthatthemanandwomanwere fighting, throwing balls of paper at each other. I kept looking. Kind ofcrazytothinkaboutholesinasky.ButmaybeIdidseetwoshadowyfiguresinthatonehole.Whoknows?Iwasdrunkoncider,vodkaandmud.

OrangeBirdMask

Todaywegoupthehillwithourweather-changingpoles.Someofthemarefifty feet long, requiringadozenmen to raise them.The idea is todestroy thecloudsthatcoverthesun.AnoldPetertacticheneverhadthechancetotry.It fails,becausewhenweraise theweatherpoles,an icestormfreezes them

together.Theyblowdownthehillandtowardthetown.Oneweatherpolespikesashopkeeper’swindow.BynightfallwefeelthesadnessinsideusthatisFebruary.Icansmellthemint

evaporatingfromSelahandThaddeus.NoteverytacticwillbeeffectiveagainstFebruary,Thaddeussays.Everyone

staypositive.TheWarEfforthasdoubledsince thegreatThaddeusspeech.Wenowhave

blacksmiths and sculptors and farmers and a little person and beekeepers, andmostofthemhavelosttheirchildrentoFebruary.Mostofthemcan’tunclenchthefingers-into-fiststhataretheirhearts.Gohomeandmakealargefire,Thaddeustellsus.Warmyourselfuntilyour

sweatsoaksthroughyourclothes.

Thaddeus

Februaryhasdestroyeddozensofourlimbs.Infectedmenstayinbedwheretheyaresadanduseless.Therestofusstayupatnightsketchingplansforanewwarstrategy.Wetaketurnspacing,crumplingpaper,disregardingeachideathatsprings from our coldmouths. Selahmakes teawith two crossedmint leavesfloatingonthetopofeachcup.Withoutanidea,wequestionifweshouldevencontinue our daily assault of warm-weather tactics. A few of the men havedressedfor theday in longpantsandsweaters.They throwup theirhandsandwalk out the door. Selah is standing in the doorway trying to make out themountainsbehindtheclouds.Shedropsherteacup.ThenshesaysIshouldcomelook.Iwalkover,andshepointstoherfeetandraisesherfingeruptotheroofsofthetown.Thehotteahasburnedapaththroughthesnowfromourfrontdooranddownintothetown.TheyfindBiancadeadon

theriverbank.TwomembersoftheWarEffortdragherfromthewaterandplaceherarmsathersides,restherheadonarock.Themembersstare.She’scoveredinblueink,randomletterstheycan’tformintowords.WhentheytellThaddeus,thesmellofmintleavesissostrongitturnsthewindowsintowngreenandthecloudslooklikemoss.Thaddeustriestodecipherthewords,hopesforacompletesentence.Hesends

amessengerfortheProfessor.TheonlywordtheProfessorcanmakeoutisOWLS.YoushouldknowthatIwouldliketojointhewaragainstFebruary,saysthe

Professor.Fine,saysThaddeus,buttoninghiscoat.Inafewdaysyoushouldcallameeting.Thereissomethingyouneedtosee,

theProfessorsays.It’satacticagainstFebruary.Ithinkitcouldhelp.Verywell,saysThaddeus.Ameetingtomorrowatmyhome.Good-bye.

TheProfessor’splanforlight

boxeswas amess of equations and diagrams nearly three hundred parchmentsheets long.Hedidn’t sleep fordays,usingThaddeus’sworkshop toconstructthe first light box. When the pounding of metal, the sawing of wood, thebreakingofglass, thetearingofpaperstoppedonthenightof thefifthday,heemergedwithhisfacecoveredinblackgreaseandarmsbloodied.It’s finished, he toldThaddeus.He picked glass fromhis knuckleswith his

teeth and spit them out. Let’s begin the meeting so I can explain theeffectivenessoflightboxes.TheWarEffortgathered.Theywatched theProfessor lift the lightboxover

hisheadandsetitdownuntilitwastightagainsthisshoulders.Inhisrighthandheheldadentedmetalbox thathadacordattached.Lifting themetalbox,hesaidinamuffledvoice,Now,thisisthepowersupplythatwhenswitchedwillsimulatethelightofthesunwhichwehaven’tseeninayear.Thelightboxitselfwasconstructedofwood fastenedatoddangleswithmetalclamps,except forthefront,whichwasapanelofglass.Thetopof theglasswaswherethelightwasgoingtoshine—bulbs,theProfessorcalledthem.Ashetoggledtheswitch,everyonecouldseethesadnessandfrustrationinhisface,hiseyeslookingupatthebulbsashisheadjerkedfromsidetoside.Theswitchclickeduselessly.Heviolently shook themetal box.He clutched the sides of his head and lost hisbalancealittle.Thenthestenchofburningleaves,andthebulbsbloomedcrystalwhiteacross

his face. TheWarEffort cheered. Some ran out into the snow-filled plains tomockthesky.Otherstookturnsfittingtheboxovertheirheads,lettingthelightsoakintotheirwinterbeards,theirtonguestastingthebloodfromtheirsplittinglips.

WhenThaddeuswentbackinto

the woods the three children weren’t there. Thaddeus looked up and saw theowlsonabranch.Heaskedthemiftheyhadseenthethreechildren.Owlscan’tspeak, and Thaddeus felt foolish.Hewalked around looking for footprints.Aparchment was nailed to the tree. It stated that the three children had beenkidnappedandshouldbeaddedtothecatalogofmissingchildren.Itwassigned,February.Thaddeussawfootprintsleadingfromthetree.Theystretchedseveralyards, then formed a circle. They continued straight, then another circle, thenstraightagain.Aftereachcirclewasanewtypeoffootprint:bear,deer,squirrel,

human, et cetera. The footprints continued this way as far into the woods asThaddeuscouldsee.ListWrittenbyFebruaryandCarriedinFebruary’sCorduroyCoatPocket1. I am not a bad person. I have enjoyed June, July and August likeeveryoneelse.

2.Ifedyoudandelionsandpickedthestemsfromyourteethwithmytongue.

3.Yousmellofhoneyandsmoke.That’swhatIcallyou.Girlwhosmellsofhoneyandsmoke.Butyou’remorethanthat.You’reafieldofdandelions.

4.IhavethisnightmarewhereI’mstandinginthefieldofdandelionsholdingascythe.Thehorizonischildrenmarching.Eachchildholdsoneofyourteeth.

5.I’msoconfuseditalmostfeelscalm.6.Iamguiltyofkidnappingchildren.IamguiltyofBiancaandcausinggreatpaintoThaddeusandSelahandthetown.

7.Iwanttobeagoodperson,butI’mnot.

Thaddeus

Thefirsthot-waterattacktakesplacefromourhomeonthehill.Wespendthefirstnightfillinglargebucketswithboilingwater.Wekeepthemhotbylightingsmallfireswithpilesoftreebranches.Wepourthebucketsdownhilltowardthetown.Acloudofsteamrisesintotheskyaswide,emptytrenchesexpandinthesnow.TheWarEffortapplaudsliketheyarewatchingtheater.Themidgetdoessomersaultsdownthehill.Foramomentyellowstreaksthesky.WhenIanglemyfaceintotheraysofsun,Inoticetheskytremblingaroundoneoftheholes.Iseefootprintsrunningfromthefirsttothesecondhole,wherethedanglingfeetarenolongervisible.ItellSelahtolookup.Shedoesbutsaysshedoesn’tseeanything except the clouds separating a little.And then the sky flutters like aflag,andthenitgoesblacklikeclosedcurtainsofwool.

Bianca

Icouldbeinanundergroundcell.Icouldbedead.Imissair.Imissmyfatherandmother.Everyonceinawhile,thedarknessdisappearsandIcanseeamanforafewminutes.Likeyesterdaywhenyellowstreakedtheroom.He’stallwithhipslikemine.IbelievethisisFebruary.Hedoesn’twashhimselforcleanhisclothes.Hishair is thickanduncombed,hisbeardscraggly,hispants torn,hisshirta fadedgray.Hesitsatadeskorwalksaround thesmall roomwherehelivesandwhereIstayhiddenbehindfurniture.Hecriesalot,too.Sometimeshejust sits at his desk staring at the blank sheets of paper in front of him. Buteventually he’llmove andwrite something down and get up andwalk aroundagain.Februarydrinkstoomuchcoffee.Intheafternoonheeatsfoodthat’stwothick slices of bread with a gooey substance and animal parts on the top.February ishappywhenheeats thismeal.Sometimes theanimalparts falloffthebreadandonto thefloor,butFebruarydoesn’tmind.Hejustreachesdownandpicksthemoffthedustywoodfloorandeats.OnetimeIsawhimstaringoutthewindowatthesnowfalling,andhestartedtocryreallyloud.Therearetwoholes in the floor. Sometimes I sit on the edge of one. Sometimes I think ofjumpingdown.

ThaddeuscurledhimselfaroundthebacksideofsleepingSelah.InahazyvoicesheaskediftheywouldknowJuneagain. Thaddeus closed his eyes and saw the town burn to the ground as henoddedhisnosedownthebumpsofherspine.Heopenedhiseyes.HethoughtofBianca.Whenhe fell asleep, he dreamed the clouds falling apart, the townstarting anew. And when he woke in the morning he tried to remember thedreambutcouldn’t,nomatterhowlonghespentonthehillwithhiseyesshut.Selah,heyelleddownthehilltowardtheirhome.Doyourememberthedream

Ihadlastnight.Selahwaspouringbucketsofhotwateraround theirhome.Sheyelledback

thatshedidn’tremember,butitwasprobablyaboutballoons.Of course, said Thaddeus. I would dream about balloons and flight. Thank

you.

Selahwished for amoat toprotect theirhome fromFebruary.Selahwishedfor the end of February and endless sadness and the end tomissing children.Selah wished for the rebirth of town and flight. Selah wished for a scrap ofsomethingbeautiful.

Thaddeus

After threedaysofdumpinghotwaterby singlebuckets,ourarmsare longbruisesunabletohandletheturningofthesparrow-headfaucet.CaldorClemensinventsthewater-trough-horsesystem.Heworksfortwodayshackingdownoaktrees and carving out the trunks with knives and axes.When he finishes, thewoodentroughisthreetimeslongerthanourhome.Itstretchestothemiddleofwherethecorn-fieldsusedtogrow.Clemensshowsushowtostickbitsofglassto the bottom of the trough with birch sap he has collected in buckets. Thetroughitselfwon’tcatchfirethisway,hesays,andlightsasmallfirebeneathit.Thewater simmers.Clemens brings six horses up the hill and harnesses themwithleatherstrapstothetroughhehasreadiedwithboilingwater.HeraiseshishandandsticksthefingersoftheotherinhismouthandwhistleslouderthanIhaveeverheardamanwhistle.Thehorsesboltforward,sendingawaveofwaterrushingtowardthetown,meltingthesnowintoslush.We continue the attack for the rest of theweek, until the streets clear—we

wantunfrozen land—and thesnowfallmeltson thesoil likeamassive tongue.The children say the clouds look like rippling sails. The holes in the sky turnpink and a body falls from the sky and into the river. TheWar Effort, theirfingersstickywithsap,pointtotheskyshoutingforthedeathofFebruary.

FEBRUARY SAT ON A COTTAGE FLOOR with a girl who smelled ofsmokeandhoney.Thegirlwas tellinghim that shewas tiredofbeingaroundsomeonewhocarriedsomuchsadnessinhisbody.Februarydrewhiskneecapstohiseyesockets.February apologized.He rockedback and forth.Whenhe stretchedhis legs

backoutthegirlwassmilingandrunninginplace.Februaryaskedwhatshewasdoing.Thegirlwhosmelledofhoneyandsmokesaiditwastocheerhimup.Idon’tthinkthat’sgoingtowork,saidFebruary.I’msorry,butitjustwon’t.Justtryit,saidthegirlwhosmelledofhoneyandsmoke.Please.February stood up and ran in place. His joints popped. He bumped into a

table,knockingoverajugofwater.Looks like a flood, said the girl who smelled of honey and smoke, who

pumpedherlegsandarmsfaster.It does, said February, whowatched thewater expand across the table and

dripontothefloorwithgreatdelight.

WarMemberSix(GreenBirdMask)

Thehotwaterworkedbetterthanweimagined.Therewassomefloodingonaccountofthemeltedsnow,butweusedmostofittorefillthebuckets.Februaryisbreakingapartat thehorizonseams.Therearefewclouds.Thesky isasoftblue.Thechildren’scheeksareflushedredfromthesun.People in town laughed today. Someone even skipped. The first sprouts of

green crops can be seen on the hillside. The town feels alive and productiveagain.WehavewonanearlybattleagainstFebruarybutknowthatanythingcanhappen. For instance, there have been reports from the messengers that darkclouds are cascading from the mountain peaks. Grizzly bears were seenbuttoning deer-skinned coats in case of freezing temperatures. The carpentershaveboardedup theirwindowsandrefuse to leave theirhomes.Theymumblesadness.Sadnesssoundslikebubblesblowingslowlyinstreamwater.THEGIRLWHOSMELLEDOFHONEYandsmokeenjoyedcollectingoldbooks on plants. One night while out on the cottage porch sitting on theswingingbenchwithFebruary, sheopened toachapteraboutvinesandmoss.OnepagehadtwelvedifferentpicturesofskinnygreenvinesclimbingthesideofaVictorianbrickhouse.When the girl stood up to go inside and check on the pot roast she kissed

February on his forehead. February flipped through the plant book until hestopped at a picture that showed a deer skeleton in a forest, spores of mosscoveringthewhitebone.Inonlyaweek, thecaptionread, thisdeerskeletonwillbeblanketedwitha

spongygreenmoss.Thegirlcamebackoutside.Sheasked ifhe foundanything interesting.She

saidthepotroastwasready.Februarynodded.Hesaidthathelikedtheideaofmoss.

Thaddeus

Sporesofmossappearedonthehorses’feet,andlayersofgreengrewontheirlegsandbacks.Selahspenthernightstryingtodefendagainsttheattackofmossbypullingitoutinpatchesandthensoothingthehorses’bloodyfleshwithwetmagnoliapetals.Wecontinuedthewater-troughattacksuntilthemosscollapsedeachhorse.Adarkgreenblanketgrewovertheireyes.Selahcouldn’t destroy themosswithherhands anymore,because itwas so

thick.Itwasnowbiggerthaneachhorse.Shesleptnexttothedyinghorsesuntilthemossmadeitswaydowntheirthroats.Afterthehorsesdied,themossmoveditswayfromthewoodsandupthehilltowardourhome.CaldorClemensswungthe scythe like he was chopping wheat from an advancing crop field. HescreamedandsworeagainstFebruary.Twopriestscametosprinkleholywateraroundourhome.Theylookedconfused.Theskyturnedgreen,thenblack,thengreenagain.Awolfstoodonitshindlegsandrippedopeneditsstomach.Antscarryingcubesofmosscrawledout.Eventuallywetired.ClemensandIandtheWarEffortmovedinsidemyhome

andbarricadedthedoorwithourbacks.Thenthemossmoveditswayunderthedoorandoverourboots.ShortListFoundinFebruary’sBackPocket1.I’vedoneeverythingIcan.

2.Ineedtoknowyouwon’tleave.3.Iwroteastorytoshowlove,anditturnedtowar.Howawful.4.Itwistedmyselfaroundstarsandpokedthemoonwherethemooncouldn’treach.

5.I’mthekindofpersonwhokidnapschildrenandtakesflight.

Selah

Towatchthewaythosehorsesdied.Tohavefeltthewavesoftheirmusclescontractingandshakingunderthatskinofmushygreen.Itwastoomuchforme.Thefloorandwallsandceilingofourhomewerecoveredinmoss.Thedogwascoveredinmossbutwasstillalive,andheranaroundthehomebarkinggreen-colored clouds. Thaddeuswas tearing it out in fistfuls from thewalls. Caldorwasswingingascytheinwide,lowarcs.Selah,saidThaddeus,startonthefloor.Tearoutwhatyoucanandburnitin

thestove.Caldor yelled at me as I stood there with my arms frozen to my sides. I

thought about the way the horses died. I thought of death and war and thesadnessofthisonce-colorfultown.Selah, please, the floor, said Thaddeus, who kicked his feet, flicked at the

mossthatgrewoverthetoesofhisboots.Iwentbacktowherethehorseswere.Ikneltdownin thecold,snow-freckledgreen. Ipeeled themossawayfrom

their bodies. Their eyes had burst and their tongues were hanging out. Theirneckswereropesofmuscleandwetmossfromthesnowthatnowlookedlikegreenfoam.Iplacedmyheadinsideahorse’sneck.Deepinsidethatwebofflesh,among

the organs andbone, I saw aminiature town thatwas identical to ours. I sawThaddeusandCaldorandBiancaandeveryoneelseasleepinhammockstiedtotheribcage.Isawalittleballooncarryinghorsesinabasket.Isawkitespushingcloudsintoaburningsun.Andwherethestomachwas,Isawmyselfstandingonafrozenriver.Windtunnelsaroundmylegsliftedmydressandpulledmyhairtowardtheclouds.Icouldfeelthecrackingoficeagainstthebottomofmyfeet.Fishatewaterandscreamedformetocomedownandhavesometea,havesomemint.

Thaddeus

Theshopkeepers in townsaid theysawSelahouton the river.Oneof themwentafterher.Hereachedhishandout,butsheshookandstampedherfeet.Shebroketheicebeneathherandfell.I tried tosaveher,Thaddeus,said theshopkeeper,whowasa littleoldman

withacrookedback.Hewalkedwithacanethathadacurvedendintheshapeofaneagle,whichheclutched.IlayoutontheiceasbestIcouldandtriedtofindherthroughthehole.I’m

sorry,sir,butwhatIsaw,Idon’tknowifit’sFebruarygettingtomeornot.Buthere,thisiswhatIsaw.Hequivered,thenstraightenedhisback.Hehandedmeparchmentpaper.HeshoutedforthedeathofFebruary,anda

fewothershopkeepersralliedaroundhim,andtheydisappeared inside the inn.Outside the inn were great big heaps of wilting moss, dying ants, a butcherskinningawolf.Iunfoldedtheparchment.IthoughtofBiancaandSelahandthisongoingwar.

Isatonthegroundinthestreetasthewagonspassedmeby,thewheelsslippingin thesnow.Therewasadrawingon theparchment. Itwasdrawn in leadandshowedawoman,Selah,underwater.Brownfishwithhorseheadsencircledher.Herhandswereangryclouds.Kitestringswerewrappedaroundherbody,andshewasscreamingwithamouthfullofsnow.

Itcontinuedsnowingandthe

WarEffortgatheredaroundThaddeus,whowouldn’tmovefromthestreet.Theshopkeepers cleared the snow around him with shovels. Thaddeus held acrumpled ball of parchment in his fist and refused to speak. At one point awagonwheelcrushedhishand,buthedidn’tflinch.There’sstillawartofight,oneWarEffortmembersaid.Thetownneedsyou,saidanother.CaldorClemensgrabbedThaddeusbytheshouldersandshookhim.You can place your frustration on February, he said, looking into the dark

eyesofThaddeus.

Thaddeus mumbled and tightened his fists but didn’t move. Three warmembers—bluebirdmask,acarpenterandCaldorClemens—triedtopushhimover.Caldorsaidthatitwasliketryingtomoveachimney.Theyhadnochoicebuttoleavehiminthestreetnightafternightafternight.TheleftsideofmybodyisBianca,andmyrightsideisSelah.WithnobodyI

havenoreasontomovefromthisspot.Idreamedyouafieldofrunninghorses,Selah.Foryou,Bianca,aballoonthe

sizeofthesky,mybodyakiteyoucanthrowintotheair.Pullmebystringandhorse.Tell me everything won’t end in death. That everything doesn’t end with

February.Deadwildflowerswrappedaroundacryingbaby’sthroat.I’veslowedmyheartbeattothreebeatsaminute.I’veredrawnthecloudsinto

birds,afoxchasingthemintothemountains.I’mgoingtomovemyhandtoday.Ivomiticecubes.There’saghostnexttome.Getup,Dad.

FEBRUARYWATCHESTHESNOWFALL.Hethinksabout thesenselessdeathsofSelahandBiancaand theongoingwaragainst him.He creates ten different shades of gray in the sky and then startsover again. The girl who smells of honey and smoke calls for him to comeinside.Hethinks,Shehasalightinherthroatwhenshespeaks.Shehasstringsoflightdrapedinsideherbody.There’saterriblewaragainstme,hesaysoverhisshoulder.Iknow,shesays.Youcanstopitanytimeyouwant.Thegirlwhosmellsofhoneyandsmokecan’thearhimcrybutcansee the

curledshoulders.Shecanseehisblackshake.

Sculptor

Bianca’sghostappearsintown.Shewearsredshortsandawhiteblouseandhaslongblackhair.Iwatchherbuymintleavesandtalktoshopownersabouthowsoonuntilwewillonlyexperiencesummer.Shewalksthroughthestreetspassingout tulipswhosepetalshaveveins thatspellout thewordJuly.Abar-keep tells everyone that Bianca’s ghost has a War Plan involving the townchildrenwhohavebeenkidnappedbyFebruary.AnapprenticeofminesaysthatwhenBiancacuppedherhandstogetheritshowedanentireskyofkites.Thaddeushadn’tspokeninaweek.ButwhenBianca’sghostwhisperedinhis

ear, he stood up. He pointed at the sky. He went to his home, where CaldorClemens had taken over theWar Effort. Bianca’s ghost disappeared into thewoods.SinceThaddeus’ssolitudeit’sneverbeensocoldordarkinthetown.Myowl

statues became brittle with frost and cracked and crumbled to dust, and I’mluckyIhaven’tanychildrenleft tofeed.That’sahorriblethingtosay,butit’strue.

OWLSTATUES—HALFPRICE.

CaldorClemensgaveashirtlessspeech under the two holes in the sky. TheWar Effort sat in a circle aroundClemens,whopumpedhisfistsandspitintosnowbanks.Thaddeuscameup thehill carryinga scytheoverhis shoulder.Heswung it

across the snow tops, causing theWarEffort to cheer andClemens to tilt hisheadbackandshoutinsultsatthesky.I’d like toadd something, saidThaddeus,whomoved into thecenterof the

groupand,inagestureofrespecttoClemens,tookoffhisshirt.As the snow fell onhis skin,Thaddeus thought it didn’t feel like snow.He

preparedhismindtofeelsnowonskin.Butthatisn’twhathefelt,becausethesnow was torn parchment with letters scribbled in lead. In a fury ThaddeuscollectedthepiecesofparchmentfromhisshouldersandarmsandeveryscrapfromthehairybackofClemens.TheWarEfforthelped, too.Theycrawledon

theirhandsandkneesandgatheredtheparchmentintoasmallpile.

ThaddeusandtheProfessorspentthenextweekdeciphering thefallenparchment.Theysatatawooden table inThaddeus’skitchenwhere theycouldmove the lettersaround.They took turnswearing the light box.Warmembers brought themmint tea and tended to thefire.There were over two hundred pieces of torn parchment. The Professor

smackedthesideofthelightbox,andthelightflickeredinsideastheyshuffledtheletters.Whataboutthis,saidThaddeus,andhemovedthelettersintoalongrowthat

stretchedthelengthofthetable.

FINDFEBRUARYATTHEEDGEOFTHETOWNWEARINGDARKCLOTHESFOLLOWANIMAL

HUMANFOOTPRINTSCREATEDBYFEBRUARYATTHEEDGEOFTHETOWN.

Butitcouldbewrong,saidtheProfessor.Look.

THETOWNCREATEDDARKFOOTPRINTSATTHEEDGEOFANIMALCLOTHES.

HUMANFOOTPRINTSWEARINGDARKCLOTHESATTHEEDGEOFTHETOWN.

Seeallthefruit,saidThaddeus.

APPLESANDWATERMELONSATTHEEDGEOFTHETOWN.

Fruit,askedtheProfessor.Yes,fruit,Thaddeussaid,andspelledoutmorenamesoffruitgrownduring

warmmonths.TheProfessorcontinuedmovingthelettersaround.ATTHEEDGEOFTHE

TOWNappeareddozensoftimes.And then the Professor began moving the pieces again and came up with

something entirely different.Hehanded the light box toThaddeus.He rubbed

his face. Thaddeus said that AT THE EDGEOF THE TOWNwaswhere heshouldgo.He told theProfessor about the scrollofparchment lefton the treewherethreechildrenoncesattwistingtheheadsofowls.Hetoldhimaboutthetracks in thesnowleadingfromtheoak tree, theconcentriccircles, theanimalprints,thehumanprintsthatmightleadtoFebruary.Verywell,then,saidtheProfessor.Attheedgeofthetown.Ifnot,we’llgobacktomovingtheparchment,andwe’llfindanotheranswer,

saidThaddeus.Verywellindeed,saidtheProfessor.Heputthelightboxbackon.

ListFoundinFebruary’sCottageDetailingPossibleCuresforFebruary1.ValerianrootandvitaminCtabletstakeninthedark.

2.Yogaandmeditation.3.Themeltingofsnowinchildren’spalms.4.Lightboxes?5.Hotbathtakenwithmintextract.6.Touchingthemooninplacesthemoondoesn’tknowexist.7.ConsumptionofSt.John’swort.8.Feedingthegardeninside.9.GivingBiancaback.10.Twistingyourfearsintodesires.11.Mooddiary.12.Hydratingthebody.13.Payingattentiontothegirlwhosmellsofhoneyandsmoke.

Thaddeustiedawoolscarf

aroundhisneck,lookedatthepicturetheoldmanhadgivenhimofSelahandleft home. Tree branches bowed with snow, their tips tied to the ground byinvisibleropes.ThaddeusimaginedstandingbehindFebruary,runninghisknifeinahalfmoonfromeartoear.Hesawthebloodwashtheropesawayandthesnowshakefromthetressandtheskyclicktoblue.As Thaddeus walked through town, a few shopkeepers shook his hand. A

butcher gave him a pork loinwrapped in twine.The oldman appeared again,hobbled up toThaddeus and handed him another folded parchment.Thaddeusunfoldeditcarefully.Itshowedhimselfstandingbehindabeardedman,running

hisknifearoundtheman’sthroat.Whywouldyoudrawthis,askedThaddeus.Buttheoldmanwasgone.Thaddeusthoughtthroughtheyellowingcandleat

theinnwindowhesawhimdrinkingfromabeerstein.Hethoughtthebeersteinwasdecoratedwithballoons.

FEBRUARY WAS KIDNAPPING THE children and burying them at theedgeoftown.Anytimehelookedintothetownandfeltsadnesshesentagroupofpriestsarmedwithshovelstodiganewhole.WhatFebruarydidn’tknowwasthatnotallthechildrenweredead.Somewerelearningtosurviveunderground,had built an elaborate series of underground tunnels. Someone was helpingthem. They snuck out at night and gathered firewood and stole lanterns.Februarycouldn’tseewhatthechildrenwereplanningunderground.Hecouldn’tseetheircoldfacesilluminatedinthefireandlanternlight,andhecouldn’thearthemdiscussingthewaragainsthim.ThechildrendreamedthesamedreamtheWarEffort in town dreamed. Flocks of birds tearing through a new blue sky.Theydug tunnels that snakedbeneath the townandplacednotes insidehomesinforming the people of their ownWarMovement. Some childrenweren’t solucky.Februarywouldwatchtheirfingersbreakacrustofsnow,twitchalittle,andthenseizeinthewindasthewolvesmovedin.ItpleasedFebruarywhenthathappened.HewentHAHAHAHAHAandfeltguiltyfordoingso.Onmorethanoneoccasion,Februarylookedunderaroofforachildtokidnapandwouldseepeoplewrapped inwool blankets and scarves and sweaters standing in a tightcircle.Hewouldwatch themundressafter theyunfoldedparchmentwithwordshe

couldn’tmakeout.

FEBRUARYTRIEDTOUNDERSTAND thetown.Thegirlwhosmelledofhoney and smoke told him he should drink more tea with mint leaves. Sheplaced her hand around his bicep. Her thumb and pointer finger touched.February looked back on the town and saw theWarEffort resume thewater-troughattacks.HesawThaddeusLowe,andhesawthebutcher’sknifehiddeninsidehiscoatpocket.Itwasn’tmychoicetodoterriblethingstothistown,saidFebruarytothegirl

whosmelledofhoneyandsmoke.Ididn’twantthistohappen.Iprayeachnightforittostop,saidthegirlwhosmelledofhoneyandsmoke.

I’vehaddreamsofawomanhelpingus.ThaddeusLoweiscomingwithaknife,saidFebruary.ThaddeusLoweiscomingtokillme.Maybe I can help, said the girl who smelled of honey and smoke. It’s the

dreamI’vehadandwhatthewomanhastoldmetodo.Idon’twanttodie,saidFebruary.This is what is going to happen, said the girl who smelled of honey and

smoke.ShewalkedovertoFebruaryandwhisperedsomethinginhisear.Ihopethatworks,saidFebruary.Ireallydo.I’ddoitforyou.I’dchangeourentirestoryifIcould,shesaid.Ourstory,saidFebruary,isallwrong.

Backintowntheblacksmiths

andcarpentersarebuildingasteelshiplargeenoughtocarrythepopulationofthetown.Caldoraskswhybuildashipandablacksmithlaughsandslamstwoironplanksagainstadimpledmetalblock.What do you think is going to happen when all this snow melts, the

blacksmithsays.Theblacksmithturnstoagroupofworkerswhoareabovehim,constructing

whatwillbecomethebow.Isittooridiculoustothinkwecansailawayontheriversthatwillfloodour

town.ThatwecouldendupinaNewTown.Theblacksmiths raise their glowing tipsofmetal and shoutno.Caldor tells

one of the blacksmiths that Thaddeus Lowe will save them. The blacksmithlaughs.ThaddeusLoweisanidiot,saystheblacksmith.Afool.Comehere,saysCaldor.TheblacksmithisaboutthesamesizeasCaldor.Caldorspitsinhisfaceand

simultaneously a bucket of frozen tree sap crashes into the side of theblacksmith’sskull.Caldordanglesthebucketoverthebodyoftheblacksmith.ThaddeusLoweisgoingtosavethistown,hesays.Caldorwalks towherehecansee thebeekeepersstandingon thehill.From

thisdistance,hethinks,thebeeslooklikeplumesofsmokearoundtheirhoodedheads.

Beekeeper

One possibility is to attack with bees, I said. I could send thousands. ThestingswouldforceFebruarytopeelthecloudsaway.It’sanidea.Itcouldwork.ItoldthistoCaldorClemenswhilewesatinaballoonbasketstaringupatthe

sky,underwherethetwoholeswererumoredtobe.Theballoonitselfrippled,wasdeflatedaroundusonthesnowyplainslikeagown.Goaheadandsendthem,Clemenssaid.Thaddeuswouldtryit.Itappedmyhead.Aswarmofbeesmovedupmyneckandformedafunnel

extending skyward.The bees disappeared through the clouds, and therewas aterriblebuzzingsound.Then,secondslater,thefunnelcollapsedandthousandsofmy dead bees rained from the sky and filled the basket. Their little bodieswerehardandcold.ClemensstoodtherestaringatmewhileIshieldedmyselffromthefalling,dyingbees.Thesadnesswasoverwhelming.Whattheshit,saidClemens,shiftinghislegsoutofthedead-beebasket.Iwatchedhimwalkbackintotown,swattingdeadbeesfromthenapeofhis

neck.

ThatnightCaldorClemenshad

adreaminwhichThaddeusstoodinafieldwiththreeowls.Februarywasonhisknees.Theowlsnoddedthewayowlsnod.Thaddeushadhisknifedrawn.I’msorryforyourdaughterandyourwife,but—youhavethewrongguy,said

February.Idon’tcarewhatyouhave tosay. Ionlycareaboutwhatyou’vedone,said

Thaddeus.Ican’thelpit.Really,Ican’t,Februarysaid.I’m going to open your throat and fill you with tulips, Thaddeus said,

grabbingFebruarybytheshoulder.Wait,saidFebruary,thereissomeoneIwantyoutomeetfirst.Running from the horizon and down the plains was a girl who smelled of

honeyandsmoke.

Letmeintroduceyoutomywife,saidFebruary.

List of Artists Who Created Fantasy Worlds to Try and Cure Bouts ofSadness1.ItaloCalvino

2.GabrielGarcíaMárquez3.JimHensonandJorgeLuisBorges—Labyrinths4.ThecreatorofMySpace

5.RichardBrautigan6.J.K.Rowling7.Theinventorofthechildren’stoyLite-Brite8.AnnSexton9.DavidFosterWallace10.GauguinandtheCaribbean11.CharlesSchulz12.LiamRector

Likeeveryotherhousein

town,CaldorClemens’sreceivedafoldedsquareofparchmentfromagroupofchildrenwho came up from underneath his floor. Therewere dozens of themdownthereleaningagainstthesidesofthetunnel.TheyraisedtheirlanternsforthesmallesttoclimbupoverthemandhandClemenstheparchmentpaper.IsBiancaLowedownthere,saidClemens.WhoisBiancaLowe,thesmallestchildsaid.BiancaLowe,saidClemens.Areyoustupid.Sorry.Ididn’tmeanthat.Sheis

alittlegirlwithkitespaintedonherhandsandarms.Herbodywasfoundontheriverbank.Sometimesherghostwalksaround. Ibelieveshemaystillbealive,since all of you seem to be. Clemens rocked from side to side. He tried torecognizeaface.Thesmallestchildcarefullyturnedaroundandaskedtheotherchildrenifthey

hadseenaBiancaLowe.Achildatthebottomofthetunnelcheckedascrollofparchmentandcalledbackthatnosuchchildwaslisted.Here,saidthesmallestchild,takethis.ThesquareofparchmentfitinthecenterofClemens’spalmlikeapebble.It

wastiedwithblueribbon.Ontheblueribbonintinygoldlettersitread,FINALWARPLANAGAINSTFEBRUARY.Thank you, said Clemens. When he looked back down the tunnel, all the

childrenwereslidingintotheflickeringdarknessswallowedupbylanternlight.

FEBRUARY WAS SO WORRIED ABOUT Thaddeus he didn’t see thepeople in town open their squares of parchment and read the finalWar Planagainst him.Somepeople danced.Others cried.TheWarPlan spread throughthetownandintothetrees,wherethebirdsflappedtheirwingsandthoughttheycouldflyagain.Thepriestshuddled,shooktheirheadsandwaitedforanorderfromtheirCreator.CaldorClemenswasoneofthepeoplewhocried.Caldortoldthemembersof

theWar Effort that hewould leave early the nextmorning to find Thaddeus.After theybegan the first stepsof the children’sWarPlan, theywould followCaldor’s path of dead bees through thewoods.Then theywould allmeet andheadbackintotown,together.Butwhendowereadytheballoon,saidoneofthemembersoftheWarEffort,

thisparticularmananoriginalmemberoftheSolution,whoworeapurplebirdmask.Iwasn’tawareofaballoon,saidClemens.Soyoudon’thaveadrawingofaballoonflyingintheskyonyourparchment

paper.No,saidClemens.Idon’t.ClemensstudiedalltheparchmenttheWarEfforthadcollected.Eachwasthe

same except for one that showed a balloon flying in the air. The parchmentsmelledofhoneyandsmoke.Idon’tknow,saidClemens.Maybethat’sthefutureorsomeshit.

Bianca

PeopleintownthinkI’maghost,butI’mnot.EvenwhenIscreamout:I’MNOTAGHOSTI’MAREALLIFELITTLEGIRLWHOISN’TDEAD.And:IJUMPED FROMAHOLE IN THE SKYWHERE FEBRUARY LIVES, thetownsfolkstillignoretherealme.Theyeatapplesandclearthesnowfromthewagonwheelswithironbars.Thingslike,Thesmellofmintwaterfilledtheair,are said about me when I come around. Things like, Bianca’s ghost beganappearingintown,arewritten.EvenmyfatherthinksI’maghost.DoyouthinkI’maghost.No,youdon’tthinkI’maghost.You’reoneofthegoodones.Youare kind and compassionate and filled with happiness. You walk through theseasonofFebruarywithoutacareintheworld,maybeashiver,onlyapassingcomplaintabout thegraynessof theskythatwillsoongivewayto theflowersyouplantedaroundthemailbox.

Thaddeus

Icametoaclearingwhereitwascolderthananywhereelse.Therewasapileofchoppedfirewoodandasmalllogcabinthathadmossgrowthonthedoorandwindows. I took out the knife the blacksmiths had given me. I slowlyapproachedthefrontdoor.Thewindblewatanincrediblespeedandtheholesinmy scarf made my neck blister. I reminded myself of all the terrible thingsFebruaryhaddonetomeandthetown.Icalculatedinmyheadthat itwasthe859thdayofFebruary,andenough isenough,andGodsaveme Iwill slit thethroatofFebruaryifitleadstowarmerseasons.At the frontdoor, I feltawaveofheatentermybody. I smelledhoneyand

smoke. I thought ofBianca andher emptybedroom, themoundof snowwithteeth. I heard a woman’s voice. I waited to hear the voice of February. Iimaginedthedepthofhisvoice,theendlessdark,lushlayers.Thaddeus, come in from out there, it’s freezing, said the woman’s voice

throughthedoor.Don’tyouknowit’sthemiddleofFebruary.Ihaveapotofteaonthestoveandafiregoing.It’slikeJune17thinhere.InthedistanceIheardwolvesandsawpriestsrunningbehindbirchtrees,and

I think I heard theWarScreamofCaldorClemens. I lost control ofmyself. Itook my shirt off and pulled my pants down. I let my entire body collapseagainstthefrontdoor,lettingthewarmthsettleintomybones,themossscratchatmyeyes.

Bianca

Yearsagowhenweexperiencedtheseasonknownasspring,myfatherwokemelateinthenighttoshowmethesun.Hecarriedmetothetopofthehillandtoldmetolooktowardthehorizonwherethepinetreesstood.Myfatherwipedthe snow frommy lashes, and there itwas, a littlemarble of light behind thetreetops.That’sthesun,myfathersaid,andwithanyluckitwillmeltthissnowsowe

canhavesummer.Iimaginedthatthebirdsflewandcarriedalanternandplaceditthereinthe

treetops,becausethat’sexactlywhatitlookedliketome.Itlookslikealantern,Isaid.Myfathersmiled,thenkissedmeontheforehead.Hepromiseditwouldn’tbe

farawaylikethatforeverbutwouldgrowmassiveintheskyandwarmmyface.Willitreallydothat.Yes,Bianca,really,hesaid.Afterseeingthesun,hecarriedmehomeandtuckedmebackinmybedand

toldmetosleep.ButIcouldn’t.Ispenttherestofthenightandmorningstaringout thewindow, trying tosee the lantern in the treetopscarried therebybirds.Whateveryoneelsecalledthesun.

WarEffortMemberNumberOne(BlueBirdMask)

CaldorClemenswashangedbyhisneck insideahollowoak tree.His fleshhad been torn open, and birds hadmade nests inside his stomach, chest, andneck. Other animals—bears, deer, a fox—had also been hanged, draped fromtree branches by neon-blue string coiled around their necks. The mouth ofClemenshadbeen rippedopen.Hisbottom lipwas at his chin andhis top lipwhere his hair started. His mouth was filled with snow. A few teeth pokedthrough.We found the body ofCaldorClemens shortly after following him into the

woods.Wehadcompletedthefirststepsofthechildren’sWarPlan,whichwastoputpilesofdrybrushthroughoutthetown,andthenwefollowedthetrailofdeadbees,justasCaldorhadinstructed.TheWarEfforthassurvivedfloodsandmoss and endless snowfall culminating in endless sadness. But the death ofClemenstwistedourheartsinadifferentdirection.We found the spot where his body was, the tall, skinny trees bent in the

middleand thegroundrippled—thewayI rememberedwaves lookedbreakingon the shore. War Effort Member Number Seventeen gripped my hand. Theothermembers scanned the sky for twoholes.Whenwe cameupon thedeathscene, two War Effort members sped off in opposite directions. Those whoremainedstartedtojog,smilingandcomplimentingeachother.

Thaddeus

I opened the door to February’s house and saw a girl with long black hairsitting at a desk. Shewas smiling and said, Please come in and take a seat. Ideclined. IaskedherwhereFebruarywas.Shesaidhehadgoneout tocollectfirewoodandberries.TheinsideofthehomewasfurnishedinawayIhadneverseenbefore.Lampsandtablesandchairsdesignedfromanotherworld.Inoticeda fireburning lowagainst thewall andcolumnsofwornbooks stacked to theceiling.Whoareyou,Isaid.I’mhiswife,shesaid.Februaryhastakenmywifeanddaughterandisdestroyingthetown,Isaid.I’msorry.We,too,feelanoverwhelmingsadness.We,too,crymorethanwe

laugh.The girl stood up andwalked over tome at the front door. She smelled of

honeyandsmokeandwhenshegotcloseenoughimagesofcornstalksandbirdsand muddy salamanders crawled from my eyes. I felt dizzy. I grabbed hershoulderssoIwouldn’tfall.Mybodyboiledtoablisteringheat.Sweatpouredoutofmelikelead.There,there,Thaddeus,shesaid,embracingmewitharmsthatremindedme

ofSelah.Don’tworryaboutFebruary.Youcan’tcontrolFebruary.Mylegs turnedtomud.Mykneeshit theground.Myarmswerearoundher

waistnow.Honeyandsmoke,honeyandsmoke,honeyandsmoke...Itwasblurry.Theneverythingwentblack.When Iwoke, Iwas sweating. Iwas sittingon the floornear the frontdoor

and the girlwho smelled of honey and smokewas sitting at the desk,writingsomethingonparchmentpaper.Oh,youshouldn’tseemewritingthis,shesaid.Justpretendyoudidn’tseeme

writingthis.As I started to leave, Iheardaman’svoiceand turnedaround to see,but it

wasonlythegirlwhosmelledofhoneyandsmokewavingfromthedesk.WhenI steppedoutside I tookadeepbreathandmy lungs filledwithwarmair.Thesoilwassoftandwormstwitchedinpuddles.Birdsflewfrombranchtobranch.

Flowersweresproutinguparoundtheoaktreeswheresquirrelsfed.Thesoundofowlswassodeafeningyou’dthinksomethingwaswrong.

WarEffortMemberNumberTwo(MissingHisBirdMask)

Thaddeuswaswalkinginourdirection,wavinghisarms,whistling.Ayellowbirdmask next tome commented that Thaddeus was wearing a shirt withoutsleevesandpantstornattheknees.AtacticagainstFebruary,Iremindedhim.Wehave lost the tipsofour fingersandour toesareblack insideourboots.

Ourbeardsarebrittlewithice,ourskinhardandredandcold.He’sgoingtofreezetodeath,saidtheWarEffortmember.WhenwecameuponThaddeus,he laughedandgaveeachofusagreatbig

embrace,pattingusonthebacksandkissingourfaces.HisarmshadblackspotswhereFebruaryhadattacked,andhislegshadiceforskin.Whenheplacedhisarmsaroundmehefeltlikeathousandpounds.Victoryisours,hesaid.YoukilledFebruary,weasked.No,saidThaddeus.Butlookaround.Ididn’tlookaround.Ididn’tneedto.I

didn’thavetoseethetreesburdenedwithsnow,theskiesstuffedgray.InsteadIstaredatThaddeusasthesnowfellonhisbarearms.What,saidThaddeus.Whyiseveryonelookingatmelikethat.

WarEffortMemberNumberThree(PurpleBirdMask)

Thaddeustalkedofspringlikeitwasblossomingaroundhim.Wherewesawsnowandfeltcoldair,hesawcropfieldsandshieldedhiseyesfromthesunwithhishand.Here,Isaid,handingThaddeusastackofpapersdetailingthechildren’swar

againstFebruary.Hereadeachpage.Hetoldusthatifhehadknownthatchildrenwereliving

underground with this kind ofWar Plan, February would have ended on thetenthday.Thaddeusthenthrewthepapersintoapileofsnowleftyellowfromawarmember.Callitoff,hesaid.ThewarmemberslookedateachotheruntilIretrievedtheparchmentpapers

andtriedexplainingtoThaddeusthatFebruarywasstillcontinuing,thatthelastweekhadbeentheworstyet.Completenonsense,saidThaddeus.Weshouldgetbacktotownandbeginthe

springharvest.Telltheundergroundchildrentocomeupandbechildren.OneWar Effortmemberwhispered into another’s ear until it circled to the

end,whereIstoodandheard,GototheProfessorforhelp.Inoddedbackaroundthecircletoeachmember.Wenodded.Thaddeuslaughed.

TheProfessor’sReportonThaddeusLowe

ThaddeusLowebelievesthatthecurrentseasonisspring.Onmorethanoneoccasion,heleftmyhometopickvegetables,whichhepretendedtocookoverthe fire I normally use to boil potatoes. To see this behavior from ThaddeusbreaksmyheartandIcanonlyconcludethat this is thecruelestof tricksfromFebruary.Thaddeus laugheduncontrollablywhen Iput the lightboxon.Heslapped it

offmyhead,knockingmefrommychairandontothefloor.ThaddeusaskedseveraltimeswhyIwaswearingasweaterandscarf.ThaddeuslaughedandshookhisheadeachtimeIexplainedtohimthatitwas

February,thatithadbeenFebruaryfornearlyninehundreddays.Thaddeusdoesn’tknowwhoIam.Heisoblivioustohissurroundings.I believe he has been poisoned, or spelled, or hypnotized by someone. It is

difficult for me even to write this, for at this moment Thaddeus is standingoutsidewithoutashirt,commentingonthesun.Infact,itisablizzard.Thaddeusaskedmetwiceifthechildren’swarhasbeencalledoff.Itoldhim

thatyes,Ibelieveithasbeen.Ialsotoldhimaboutmyrearrangingofthepaperthatfellfromthesky,buthe

cartwheeledawayinthesnow.

Bianca

The only people I was able to convince that I wasn’t a ghost were theundergroundchildren.WhenItoldthemthatthebodyfoundneartheriverwasafake,theysaidtheyalreadyknewthat.TheysaidtheyknewthemanytricksofFebruary.The children had developed an intricatemaze of tunnels beneath the town,

illuminatedbyhanginglanterns.Ateachjunctiontherewerelittlewoodensignswithanarrowpointingupthatsaidwhatpartoftown,whatstore,orwhathousewas directly above you. I found my home and climbed up and shifted afloorboardtooneside.Myfatherwastheretalkingaboutflyingaballoonagain.He was having an entire conversation with himself about how sweet the airtastedataspecificheight.Hedescribedwindgustsbywavinghisarmsthroughthe air from side to side. He described the balloon ascending into the sky bystretchinghisarmstotheceilingandmakinganoisewithhislipsthatsoundedliketheflame.BeforeIwentbackdownintothetunnel, thefloorboardIhadshiftedtoone

sidemadeacreakingnoise.Myfatherlooked.Herantome.HesaidIshouldn’tbelivingunderground.Hedidn’trecognizeme.ItoldhimIwashisdaughterandIwasn’taghost.Hetoldmetocalloffmywarandinsteadspendthenextdayswimming in the riverwhere thewaterwas likewarmsilkonskin. I toldhimthatdidn’tmakeanysense.It’sme,Bianca,Isaid.I’myourdaughter.Lookatmyface.Irubbedthedirtfrommycheeks.Madesuremyfacewasn’tcoatedinsnow

orash.Bianca,Isaid.Don’tyourecognizeme.Iwroteeachletterofmynameonascrapofparchmentandsliditacrossthe

floor.

Myfathermovedthelettersaround.HespelledACABIN.ThenhecamebacktoBIANCA.Helookedattheletters,thename,thenatme.Hekeptdoingthis.EventuallyIthinkhesmiled.

Thaddeus

Somethingiswrongwithme.

TheGirlWhoSmellsofHoneyandSmoke

Iwillhelpyouandthetown.

FEBRUARY GOES HOME. FEBRUARY waited in the woods beforeheadinghometothegirlwhosmelledofhoneyandsmoke.Heopenedthedoorandhandedherasculptureofanowlwithacrackedskull.Hebought itcheapfromadepressedsculptor.ThegirlwhosmelledofhoneyandsmokecriedandhuggedFebruary.ShewhisperedinhisearthatThaddeusLowenowbelievesinspringandthatgiventimeitwillinfecttheentiretown.Maybewecanliveinpeace,shesaid.Itwasasolutiontothewaragainsthim.Februaryhadsufferedthroughtheir

fake smiling faces,water-trough attacks, sticks thrown at the sky, prayers andWarHymns.Hehadseen themcoveredwithmossandendless layersofgray.Hehad seen them saddenedwith over nine hundred days ofFebruary, and hehadbeenblamedforit.Verywell, then, saidFebruary.Andhesatdown inawooden rockingchair

andfoldedhishandsonhislap.I loveyou, said thegirlwho smelledofhoneyand smoke.And I loveyou,

saidFebruary,feelingalittlesad.

NoteWrittenbyFebruary

Thereisahousebuilderandhiswife.NamethehousebuilderFebruaryandrefertothewifeasthegirlwhosmellsofhoneyandsmoke.

AfterThaddeuscalledoffall

warsagainstFebruary, thetown’ssadnessreachedanewdepth.TwomembersoftheWarEffortflungthemselvesfromtheblacksmith’sship.Anothercuthiswrists open in themiddle of the street, and dead vines poured fromhis body,grew through the street and covered a cottage. Shopkeeperswept through thenight. The beekeepers had their bees sting their necks in order to stop theircrying. Snowmixedwith ice and a sheet of lightning fell from the sky. AndThaddeusLowecouldbeseenwalkingthroughtownwearingnothingbutcutoffburlappants,commentingtohisneighborsaboutthebeautifulweather.Remembertotrimthosehedges,heyelledtoashopkeeperwhowassittingon

apileofdirtysnow,hiskneespulleduptohisfaceasherockedbackandforth.Theundergroundchildrencameupoccasionallytowatchthetownfallapart.

They thought of rebelling against Thaddeus on account of hismadness. Theyheldmeetingsandarguedintothelatenight.TheydiscussedtheWarPlangivento them by a girl who smelled of honey and smoke, seeing now theconsequences of proceeding without the support of the War Effort andtownsfolk.Theirconfusionsweptthroughtheundergroundtunnels.

ThaddeusdreamedandignoredeveryoneintowntellinghimthatFebruarywasstilloccurring.Squaresofparchmenttiedwithblueribbonhadbeenplacedthroughouthishome.Eachonehadadifferentstyleofwriting,eachfromadifferentpersonfromtownortheWarEffort.Theysaid things like how February had been the cause of his wife’s death, hisdaughter’sandCaldorClemens’s.TheypleadedwithThaddeustorememberthedays of flight, and one parchment had strands of balloon fabric sewn to thefibers.Thaddeusdidn’t touchanyof these. ItwasBiancawhobegansneaking

intothehomeeachevening,placingthesquaresofparchmentaroundthehouseas her father drove a tractor through the imaginary fields. When he ignoredthem,shebeganunfolding theparchmentsandplacing themin thebathtub,onhisbed,stickingtheminsidecabinetdoorswithcandlewax.Thaddeusstartedtoread them and nailed them to the walls of his home until they covered eachroom.HestudiedwhattheysaidandthoughtthatheshouldgobacktothehomeofFebruaryinthewoodsandthegirlwhosmellsofhoneyandsmokeandaskmorequestions.

Thegirlwhosmelledofhoneyandsmokewantedtobewithamanwhohadthefollowingcharacteristics:(1)Getshishaircut.(2)Hasarespectableincome.(3)Wearsniceclothes thatfithim.(4)Actslikeaman.(5)Lookshealthy.WhenshelookedatFebruarysittingonthefloor,occasionallywritingsomething,shesawnoneofthis.Hishairhadn’tbeencutinoversixmonths.Itwasamessofbrownwavesandcurls,adingymatgrowingdownthebackofhisneck thatembarrassedherwhenshebroughthimaroundher friends.His job at a local store,where he had beenworking for over twoyearswithoutadecent raise,wasgoingnowhere.Hedidn’townavehicle likeothermen,becausehecouldn’taffordone.Insteadherodehisbiketoworkeachdayanddidn’tobjectwhenthegirlwhosmelledofhoneyandsmoke’sparentsofferedtobuythemavehicle.Hecouldn’taffordanapartment,sohelivedinhisparents’basement,where thegirlwho smelledofhoneyand smoke lived alsoandwasnowplanninganescapeeachdayshewoketothesoundofsomeone’spiss spraying the toilet water above her head. His wardrobe consisted ofunderwear hismother had bought him over six years agowhen he first wentaway tocollege,ahalfdozen fadedT-shirtsand threepairsof jeans thatwereChristmas gifts from the past three years.When Februarywould spend hourswritingastoryhewouldn’tdiscussbecauseithadgottenawayfromhimmonthsbefore, the girlwho smelled of honey and smoke told him that othermen dothingsliketaketheirgirlfriendsout,buythemflowersandcandy,surprisethemwith picnics. A man, she said, doesn’t hide some make-believe story that hecan’t even finish. And lastly, when she looked at February in the shower, orwhen hewas dressing, shewondered if hewas dying.His skinwas pale, hisarmsand legbones lacked themuscular frame that shebelievedwas sexy.Hewassixfoottwoandweighed155pounds.Exceptforthetwo-milebikeridetowork,hedecidedagainstanexerciseroutine.Occasionallyshe’dseehiminthebedroom,strugglingonathirdpush-up,andshe’dnoticetheuncombedblockof

hair,thetubelikebodytrembling,thedirtyclothespiledup,thebicycleleaningagainstthedrywall,anditremindedherofwhatshedidn’thave,thepossibilitieswaitingoutsidethosedarkwalls.

FEBRUARY HELD A BEARD TRIMMER. He reread the list ofcharacteristics thegirlwhosmelledofhoneyandsmokesought inamanuntilthe anger turned to sadness. He stretched his arms out in front of him. Heinspectedtheirthinness.Heranhishandsthroughhishair,thethickestpartattheback near his neck, a puffy mess that now embarrassed even himself. Then,flipping theplastic switch, that rowof rusty little teethsawingbackand forth,Februaryraisedittothefrontofhisheadandinonelongstrokebeganshavingoffhishair.Whenthe townsfolk lookedup, theybelievedthat itwassnowingbutas the

locksofhair felldownupon their shoulders, lashing themacross their cheeks,curlingaroundtheiranklesandholdingthemtothestreets,stickingtotheirlipsandsuffocatingtheirbreath,theyrealizedthatitwasanotherattackbyFebruary.Look, said Thaddeus to himself. Some summer vines are falling from the

clouds.Howunusual.It’sFebruary,saidawarmember.

Thaddeus,please,it’sFebruaryfromabovecausingthis.Can’tyouseethat.I’mgoingofftoseeFebruaryattheedgeoftownagain,saidThaddeus.Thaddeus,it’satrick.Februarydoesn’tliveattheedgeoftown.Lookup!Thaddeuswasoff.

Thaddeuswalkedbackthroughthewoods and to the home of February and the girl who smelled of honey andsmoke.Whenheopened thedoor,hesawaman ina rockingchaircuttinghishair with a pair of large sewing shears. The girl who smelled of honey andsmokewas sitting on the floorwriting on parchment paper,which she foldedintotinysquaresandboundwithblueribbon.Theman,thoughtThaddeus,wasFebruary.Heworefadedbrownpantsanda

darkblue sweaterwith holes at the elbows.He cut his hair in odd angles andtookafewsnipsfromthechinofhisbeard.Thaddeusclosedthedoor.February dropped the sewing shears. The girl pushed the parchment papers

underabearskinrug.TheyglancedateachotherandlookedbackatThaddeus,

whowasstillstandinginthedoorway.Well,comein,saidFebruary.Don’tletthecoldairin.Thaddeuswaspuzzled.Hisankles,beneathhissocks,werestickywithsweat.ThegirlwhosmelledofhoneyandsmokeapproachedThaddeusandplaced

herarmsaroundhisshoulders.I’mgladyou’reback,shesaid.Comeinandsitonthefloorwithme.Februarystayedinhisrockingchair.Hefoldedhishandsinhislapandrocked

backandforth.Helooksscared,thoughtThaddeus.Ithoughtyouweredead,saidThaddeus,lookingatFebruary.Februaryshookhisheadno.I’mnot dead, he said.As amatter of fact, I don’t knowwhoorwhat I am

anymore. Everyone in town is terrified ofme. They blameme for an endlessseasonwhere all it does is snowand the skies are gray and everyone is filledwithendlesssadness.Theyblamemefortheendofflight.DidyouknowthatIhadvisionsthatyouwerecomingtocutmythroat,Thaddeus.Justawful.Ihadtosleepinanemptycottageattheedgeofanothertown.Theweatherwaswarm.Thaddeusdidn’tknowofanyothertownwithinwalkingdistance.February continued. I ran away from the possibility of you killing me to

anothertownthatappearedtobeabandoned.Theweatherwaswarm,thehomesnewlybuilt,buttherewereholesinthegroundthatappearedtogotothecenterof the earth. It looked like tunnels underground, and inside themwere lampsstrunglikeholidaylights.Thegirlwhosmelledofhoneyandsmokegotuptomaketea.Thaddeussaid

yes,thathewoulddrinkteaonlyifthebottomofthecupwerestuffedwithmintleaves.Idon’tunderstand,saidThaddeustoFebruary.Neitherdowe,saidthegirlwhosmelledofhoneyandsmoke.Thetwoholesinthesky,Februarysaid,theyholdtheanswer.Webelieveina

Creator.WebelievethattheCreatorisupinsidethosetwoholesinthesky.Webelieve that the cause of this endless sad season is directly connected to theCreator.Thaddeustooktheteacupfromthegirlwhosmelledofhoneyandsmoke.But

you’reFebruary,hesaid.You’rethecauseofit.I’mnotFebruary,Februarysaid.YouandeveryoneelseincludingtheCreator

callmeFebruary.Idon’tevenknowmyname.I’mabuilderofhouses,Iknowthat.Ibuiltthishousebymyself.IshouldbecalledHouseBuilder.Mostofthehomes in your town, I builtwithmy bare hands.That is, before Iwas driven

away.IhateFebruary.Butyoukidnappedthechildrenandburiedthem,saidThaddeus.Iwouldn’tdothat,saidHouseBuilder,kindoflaughing.The girlwho smelled of honey and smoke sat so close toThaddeus on the

floorthattheirkneesweretouching.Heloveschildren,shesaid.Hewouldn’tdothat.FebruarytheCreatorkidnappedthechildren,saidHouseBuilder.Februarythe

Creatorisresponsibleforthisendlessseasonofsadness.Butyou,saidThaddeus,lookingatthegirlwhosmelledofhoneyandsmoke.

Youpoisonedme.Youmademeseespring.Whenmydaughterwastakenfromherbed,itsmelledofhoneyandsmokeandthewindowwasopen.LikeIcancontrolwhat Idoandhowyouareaffected. IbelieveIwasonly

doingitforthesafetyofmyhusband.Someonetoldmetodoit,andIdidit.I,too, have been mislabeled as a girl who smells of honey and smoke. I’m aHousewife.Andasforthesmelloftheroom,Housewifewhispered,Februaryisacruelbeing,capableofsuchtricks.SoitisstillFebruary,saidThaddeus.AllthistimeFebruaryisstilloccurring.I’mafraidso,shesaid.Noneofthismakessense,thoughtThaddeus.Wefeelthesameway,saidHouseBuilder.Howdidyouhearthat.Yousaiditoutloud,saidHouseBuilder.Thegirlwhosmelledofhoneyand

smokenodded.Therewasawarplannedbyundergroundchildren,saidThaddeus.It’sagainst

February.Orisitagainstyou.Ishouldn’thavecalleditoff.ShouldIhavecalleditoff.Ineedtogetbacktotown.AndThaddeusheadedtothedoor.Please, said House Builder. I know you won’t understand this, because I

believe it’s impossible to understand, but I’m not the cause of the town’stroubles.I’vebeenpushedtotheedgeoftown.Lookbacktothetwoholesinthesky. That’swhere the problem is.Or the problem iswillpower andwhat youthinkyoucancontrol.I,forexample,gotlabeledFebruaryandmywifehereasagirlwhosmellsofhoneyandsmoke.Suchnonsense.Howawful.When Thaddeus opened the door, it was snowing again and the treeswere

coated in ice.Heranback to the townas fastashecould, trippingandfallingseveraltimes.Hescreamedintorment,hisfacepressedintothehardsnow.

Thegirlwhosmelledofhoneyandsmoke

woke up before February each morning. She’d crawl out of bed and walkthrough the darkness of the unfinished home and sit down at a wooden deskwhereshe’dclickonasmallgreenlamp.Shewouldreadthroughthestacksofpapers, the fragmentedparagraphs, thehalfsentencesandabandoneddialogue,andfinishthese lostriddles toher liking.Alongtimeago,sheshowedBiancathe sun. Yesterday she told Thaddeus to walk back to the house of a manwrongly accused of being February to ask more questions. She supplied theblacksmithswiththetoolstobuildaship.Onebyonesherevivedthechildrenburied underground after February kidnapped them, and shewas the onewhodroppedthescrapsofparchmentfromtheskythatThaddeusandtheWarEffortcollected.Thegirlwho smelledof honey and smoke told the childrennurseryrhymes and supplied themwith lanterns as her hands carved out themaze oftunnels. There, there, she said, hushing them to sleep under thick winterblankets, their bodies huddled against a curve in the tunnel. And deep insidetheir dreams, she fed them the images of a finalWar Plan against February.There, there, she whispered, tucking the squares of parchment under theirpillowedheads.

ThaddeuscalledameetingwiththeWarEffort.

Iapologizetoeveryone,hesaid.ThepastweeksIbelieveditwasspringwheninfacttheattacksfromFebruaryhaveneverbeenworse.Ibelieveweshouldgoonafull-scaleattackagainstFebruary.Hedoesn’tliveattheedgeoftown.ThatisHouseBuilderandhiswife,whoisaworkerofspellsandwhotrickedmetoprotectherhusband.WhatIdoknowisthattherealFebruaryistheCreatorwholives in the two holes in the sky. We should have known this. We willimmediatelyconstructafleetofballoonsandascendintotheair.There were about thirty people in Thaddeus’s home, and they immediately

began toobject.A fewpeople shouted that flight is impossible.TheProfessorquietedthemandspoke.But we already have a plan under way, he said, and handed Thaddeus the

bundle of parchments gathered from the homes and shops left by theundergroundchildren.Fine,goaheadwithit,hesaid.ButI’mgoingintheoppositedirection.Ineed

togetintotheholesinthesky.Shouldsomeonegowithyou,askedawarmember.

No, saidThaddeus. The children’sWar Plan is a plan thatwillwork, but Ican’t leavewithoutseeingwhat’s in thesky.Iwillattempttofly tomorrowbymyself.Everyoneelsecanbeginthechildren’sWarPlan.

Thatnighteveryoneatedinner

together at the inn. They had steamed carrots, apple-glazed pork and boiledpotatoes.Theyateallthefoodinthetown.TheytoldstoriesofhowNewTownwouldbewarmer.Theydrankanddreamedofbloomingfields.Acalendarwascreated,voidoftheseasonofFebruary,andattheendofthenighttheybroughtitoutandeveryonecheered.They talked over theWarPlan one last time andwent to bed early. People

questionedThaddeusonhowhewasgoing to flywhen flightwas impossible.Thaddeusshruggedhisshoulders,saidhedidn’tcare,thathejusthadtotry.Imissyouboth,saidThaddeusthatnightintohispillow.Hethoughtaboutthemanandthewomanattheedgeoftown.Hisheadwas

spinning.Iloveyouboth,hesaidintothepillow.Andthenhefellasleep.

FEBRUARYWOKEONEMORNINGATTHEsametimethatthegirlwhosmelledofhoneyandsmokewasgettingupfromthebed.Hedecidedtofollowher.Hecrawledonhishandsandkneesacrossthefloorandlookedintothenextroomwherethedeskwas.Thegirlwhosmelledofhoneyandsmokewassittingtherewriting something.Shewas folding sheets of paper and tying themwithblueribbonandreachingherarmthroughaholeinthefloor.Februarystoodupandwalkedtothedesk.Thegirlheardhim.Sheturnedaround.Go ahead, he said, you canwrite whatever youwant, he said. I don’t care

anymore.I will, she said. You took away a man’s wife and daughter for no reason.

You’recruel.I’mgoingtoshowthemhappiness,shesaid,wonderingifheknewabouttheundergroundchildren,thenotesshehadgiventhem.I’msorry,saidFebruary.I’msorryforeverything.February turned andwalked back to the bedroom. Just before he entered, a

sharppainranfromthebottomofhisfoottohiship.Hefellbackonthegroundandtwistedhisfootupnearhischest.Hesawthreedeadbeescrushedintohis

heel.Laterthatsamedaythe

girlwhosmelledofhoneyandsmokesatatthedeskandlitfiresinthetown.Shehad Bianca start at one house andwork in a descending circle, burning it alldown.Shethencollectedthepapersinastack,tieditwithribbon,andplaceditinaboxshetitledLightBox.

Biancabeganattheedge

of townandworked inadescendingcircle,dippingand tiltingher lantern intopilesofbrushthattheWarEfforthadplacedthedaybeforethedeathofCaldor

Clemens.Onaparchmentitlookedlikethis:Thelasthomeshesetfiretobeforeescapingdownoneofthetunnelswasher

own.When she ran inside,her chesthurt frombreathing sohardandherbluedress was covered with ash. She looked out the window and saw the plainsburningandtheblacksmithshipsailingawayinthedistance.Shewalkedaroundthehouse,lightingthewallswithagrowingflameasthechildrenandtownsfolkyelledbeneathher.Comeon,Bianca,theysaid.Comenowbeforeyouburntodeath.Theirfists

poundedthesolesofherfeet.Sheslidafloorboardtothesideandsawalltheirdirtylittlefacesunderneath.Inyougonow,saidoneofthesmallestchildrenfromdeepbelow.Assheclimbeddownshethoughtsheheardherfatherscreamhername.

SixReportsfromthePriests1.WecanseeBiancainthedistance.2.Sherunsfrombrushpiletobrushpiledippingherlanternandsparkingflamesthatarespreadingthroughoutthetown.

3.She’swearingabluedressandyellowsocks,anddrawingsofkiteson

3.She’swearingabluedressandyellowsocks,anddrawingsofkitesonherhandsandarmsglowinthelightofthefire.Sheisastreakofcolorwithlongblackhair.

4.Therearesevenofushereinthewoods.WehavenoplacetogowithoutthedirectionofourCreatorandwiththefirereachingthefirstlineofbirchtrees.Wefearforourlives.

5.Thesnowturnstopoolsofwateraroundourtoes.There’saloudcreakingsoundthatechoesthroughthewoods.

6.Thelastthingweseeistheblacksmithshipmovingthroughthetown.Itdividesshopsintwo.Splintersofflamingwoodspinthroughtheair.

TheGirlWhoSmelledofHoneyandSmoke

Iwriteinhugeletters

FLIGHTRETURNEDTOTOWN

andfolditintoalittlesquareandgobacktobedwithFebruary.WhenIwakeinthemiddleofthenight,Ihaveanidea.Imakeadrawingofa

NewTownonparchment,andthat,too,Ifoldintoalittlesquare.In themorningI take thefoldedsquaresandplace themunder thepillowof

ThaddeusLowe.ThaddeusrepeatsoutloudthesentenceFLIGHTRETURNEDTOTOWNandsmiles.

Thaddeusworethelightbox

on his head when he ascended in the balloon toward the holes in the sky.Beneathhimthetownwasflamesanddarksmoke.Itfilledtheskyaroundhim.From a great distance, where the rest of the town was climbing up from thetunnelsandintotheirnewhomes,theycouldseetheballoonglowingwitheachpulseofflameandaboxoflightflickeringinthedarkness.What’sgoingtohappentohim,saidoneofthechildren.Maybe he’s going to die, said another, throwing a large burlap sack of

clothingontotheground.He’snotgoingtodie,saidanotherchild.He’sgoingtobewiththeCreator.Biancawasinhernewhome.Shewatchedoutthewindowtheoldtowninthe

distanceburn to the ground.She saw the balloon light anddisappear, and sheplayed the ancient game of Prediction. She saw a box of light sitting on theshouldersofhershoutingfather.Thekitesonherhandsandarmsburned.Shewantedtothrowthekitesoutfromherfingersandintotheskyandtiethemtotheballoonandpullherfatherbacktoearth.Shesawtheballoonascendtothetwoholesinthesky.Shesawtheballoonstop.

Thetopoftheballoon

wasstuck.Thaddeusclimbedoutofthebasketandupthesideoftheballoon.Hehaddrapedthickropesthereforthispurpose.Whenhecametotheedgeofthe hole in the sky, he pulled himself up and kicked against the balloon. HecrawledonhisstomachuntilhewascompletelyinsidealargeroomthatlookedjustlikeHouseBuilder’shome.Itwasdarkexceptforasmalllampthatsatonadesk.Theroomsmelledlikehoneyandsmoke,andThaddeuswalkedaroundalittlebeforehearingfootstepsandhidingbehindthefurniture.Itwasthegirlwhosmelledofhoneyandsmoke.Shecarrieda steamingcup.Shesatdownat thedesk and began towrite.All around the deskwere little squares of paper tiedwithblueribbon.Hello,whisperedThaddeus,peekingoverapieceoffurniture.Thegirlwhosmelledofhoneyandsmokedidn’thearhim.It’sme,hewhisperedalittlelouder.Thegirlwhosmelledofhoneyandsmoketurnedaround.You,shesaid.Goaway.Whatareyoudoinghere.I’mtryingtosaveyoufrom

February.Iknowwhat’sgoingon,saidThaddeus.IknowthatFebruaryliveshereand

heisameanmanwhonamedHouseBuilderandhiswifeFebruaryandthegirlwhosmelledofhoneyandsmoke.She looked at him.He’s not ameanman, she said.He’s just confused.He

didn’t know what to do with your town. But I’m helping now. It’s over.Februaryhasgivenup.I’mgivingyouaNewTownandanewlife.Youreallyshouldgo.Howbig isour town,Thaddeusasked, lookingback through thehole in the

floor,theskyofthetown.Ihavenoidea,saidthegirlwhosmelledofhoneyandsmoke.Imeanitwhen

Isayyoushouldgoback.Everythingisgoingtobefinenow.IsFebruaryhere.Yes,buthe’ssleeping.Thaddeussaid,IwanttoseeFebruary.No,youcan’t.There’snopointinit.IwanttoseeFebruary,saidThaddeus.Fine,saidthegirl.Butveryquickly.ThegirlwhosmelledofhoneyandsmokeledThaddeusintoacoldbedroom.

Amanwassleepingunderthesheets.Hishairwasbrownandcurly.Helookedsad.

That’shim.That’sFebruary.Yes,saidthegirl.Areyouhappynow.Ihatehim,saidThaddeus.Ihatehimforwhathedid.Thaddeusstood.Hischestroseandfell.Hefeltthesharptipoftheknifeinhis

pocket.

TheGirlWhoSmellsofHoneyandSmokeCreatesNewTown

Afterthesmokeclearedfromtheskies,thesuncameoutbigandgloriousandtheleavesonthetreeslookedliketheywereonfire.Cropfieldsandflowerbedsbloomed.Someof thechildrenwentblind fromstaring indisbeliefat the sun.Theyhadtowalkaroundwithclothtiedaroundtheireyes.Biancatoldeveryonethat thesunpossessed thispower,butevenshestaredat itandnowsawblackspotsinthecornersofthenewsky.

ScrapsofParchmentWrittenbytheGirlWhoSmellsofHoneyandSmoke

EveryonesmiledinNewTown.Noonementionedtheoldtowneveragain.TheseasonofFebruaryexistedonlyintheoldtown.CaldorClemensunhangedhimselffromdeepinthewoodsandcametoNew

Town. He walked into a shop and asked, Did I miss anything, and everyonelaughed.Selah, frozen in the river,was seen onemorning crawling from themuddy

shore.Sherememberednothing.FebruaryattheedgeoftownandhiswifecametoNewTownandexplained

how his name was House Builder and not February. He told the story ofFebruary theCreator and hiswarwith not only the town butwith a girlwhosmelledofhoneyandsmoke.OnlyThaddeusLowewasmissing.

February

Ihearamanbreathing.Ihearthegirlwhosmellsofhoneyandsmokesay,putdowntheknife.

Thaddeus

Thegirlwhosmelledofhoneyandsmoketoldmetohide.SoIdid.IwatchedfrombehindacurtainasFebruarygotupfromhisbed.Hewasaskinnyman.Hedidn’t look scary. He said something to the girl who smelled of honey andsmoke about hearing her talking to someone.Aman.She denied it.He askedwherethelightboxwas,andshesaidthatshethoughthewasfinishedwithit.Februarysaid,No,I’mnot.Idon’tthinkIamafterall.The girl who smelled of honey and smoke handed him a box. February

uncovereditandtookoutastackofparchment.NewTown,hesaid.Whatisthis.Iheardadog,no,awolf,howling.ThenIsawFebruary runfromthe room

with the stackofparchment. Iheardheavy footstepsnear the topofmyhead.WherewasI.

FEBRUARY UPSTAIRS SCRIBBLES THADDEUS Lowe drowns.Thaddeus Lowe is attacked by bears. Thaddeus Lowe has a heart attack.ThaddeusLowechokestodeathonanapple.ThaddeusLowe’smouthfillswithsnow.

Downstairs,thegirlwhosmellsof honey and smoke writes, Thaddeus Lowe becomes a famous balloonist.Thaddeus Lowe has three more children and becomes New Town mayor.Thaddeus Lowe lives to be a hundred years old. Thaddeus Lowe forgets thedefinitionofsadness.She hears a bear growling in the closet where Thaddeus is. She hears

Thaddeussayhishearthurts.ShehearsThaddeussayheishavingawonderfullife,buttheclosetisfillingwithwaterandhedoesn’tknowhowtoswimandhismouthisfillingwithsnowandhe’schoking.

FEBRUARY FLIPS THROUGH THE STACK of parchment and finds asinglesheetthatsays,THADDEUSWORETHELIGHTBOXONHISHEAD

WHENHEASCENDEDINTHEBALLOONTOWARDTHETWOHOLESINTHESKY.Februarydidn’trememberwritingthat.Heranbackdownstairsandsearched

theroom.Isheactuallyhere,heaskedthegirlwhosmelledofhoneyandsmoke.Is it

actuallypossiblethatThaddeusishere.Thegirlwho smelledofhoneyand smoke saidnothing.She stoodwithher

handsbehindher back, a pencil in onehand, parchment in the other. Shehadgrowntoresenthimforwhathehaddonetothetown.Shehadlovedhim.Shehadhatedhim.Februarylookedatthecloset,theslightwaveringofthefabric.Thaddeus trembled.Hehadhis knife drawn.February reachedhis handout

andpulledthecurtaintothesideandfeltabladesinkintohischest,stoppingatthebone.ThaddeuspushedFebruaryacross the room.The twospun incirclesbeforefallingtothefloor.Thetownlookedupandsawtheskyshake.FebruaryhitThaddeusonthesideofthefacewithaclosedfist.Atoothfellfromthesky.Theknifesankdeeper,twistedtotheleft,thentheright.Thegirlwhosmelledofhoneyandsmokescreamed,STOP,STOP.Shetriedtoseparatethem,pullingatflailingarmsand legs.FebruarybitThaddeus’s ear anddrewblood.Thaddeustook the knife out and drove it down, hard, at the shoulder. Then into hisstomach,wherehe zigzagged adeeppath.Hekept stabbingFebruary, sinkingthe blade in deeper and faster with each hit. Blood soaked February—a lakegrowing fromhis chest.HishandswavednearThaddeus’s face, pulling at hismouthandpokinghiseyes.Februaryscreamed,coughedupbloodandawhiteflower petal, and then the resistance of his body loosened. When the townlooked up, they saw bloodred vines twist through the sky. Giant flowersbloomedover clouds.Thevines and flowersgrew in layersuntil they reachedtheoutstretchedfingertips.

NoteFoundinFebruary’sPocketbytheGirlWhoSmellsofHoneyandSmoke

Iwanted towriteyoua storyaboutmagic. Iwanted rabbits appearing fromhats. Iwantedballoons liftingyouinto thesky.It turnedout tobenothingbutsadness,war,heartbreak.Youneversawit,butthere’sagardeninsideme.

Thaddeusmovedfromthebody

ofFebruaryandleapedthroughtheholeandbackintotheballoon.Heheardthegirl who smelled of honey and smoke crying. He looked at the blood thatcoveredhishandsandarms.Hetrembled.Theballoondescendedintothetownofflowers,bumping,gettingcaughtseveraltimesonthevinegrowth.Whentheballoon reached the ground everyone was cheering. It was a New Town.Thaddeusdidn’tsmileorcheer.Hesimplylookedbackupatthetwoholesintheskyandwaitedforsomethingtohappen.Hewaited.

Thegirlwhosmelledofhoneyandsmokesat on the floor with the body of February. She kissed him on his forehead.When she rolledhimover to see the twoholes in the floor she sawvinesandflowers and blood growing from his back. She didn’t feel anger againstThaddeus or regret. She didn’t feel anything. Shewrote June on one sheet ofparchment and July on the other and then colored them yellow. Then shecrumpledupthetwosheetsofparchmentandstuffedoneinoneholeandoneintheother.Thenshewentupstairsandgrabbeda large rug.Shecarried the rugdownstairs,andsheunfoldeditandplaceditoverthefloorandthetwoholesinthesky.

Thaddeus

Welookattheskyforhours.

Therearetwosunsinthesky.OnesunhasJunewrittenonitandtheothersunsaysJuly.

TheProfessormakesacalendarwiththesetwoseasons.Thevinesandflowersfrom the sky cover the ground. The flowers are the size of our heads. Thechildrenkick themaround.The crop fields stretch toward the sky. It’s sohot.Myfeetsinkintothewarmmud.TheideaofFebruarybecomeserasedfromourthoughts.TheSolutionbeginsconstructiononnewballoons.Ababy iscrying.More than one baby is crying.Dozens of naked babieswith flowerswrappedaroundtheirthroatsarewalkingfromthehorizontowardus.Theyscream,andhugewhiteflowersunfoldfromtheirlittlemouthsandfloatlikeballoonsupintothesky.EndEndEndEndEndEndEndEndEndEndEndEndEndEndEndEnd

EndEndEndEndEndEndEndEndEndEndEnd

END

Acknowledgments

SpecialthankstoBlakeButler,ChrisKillen,JamesChapman,JoeYoung,KenBaumann, Stephanie Barber, Nicholas Hughes, Jesse Ball, Ray Tintori, PriyaSwaminathan,SpikeJonze,MatthewSimmonsandKathrynRegina.A million thanks to Adam Robinson and Publishing Genius Press for first

bringingthisbookintoreaders’hands.Tomyagent,BillClegg,whosesupport,passionanddiligencearehumbling,

thankyou.To TomRoberge and everyone at Penguin—thank you for findingme and

supportingmeandbeingalittlecrazytolovemybook.The community that first supported this book was the world of online

literature and independent literature, and I nod in gratitude to all the earlyreadersandsupporters.Andfinally,thankyoutomymother,father,sister,brother,andtomywifefor

showingmetheloveandcompassionthatmadeitswayinto thisbookandmylife.