Light Boxes
Transcript of Light Boxes
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
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FirstpublishedintheUnitedStatesofAmericabyPublishingGeniusPress2009PublishedinPenguinBooks2010
Copyright©ShaneJones,2009
Allrightsreserved
PUBLISHER’SNOTEThisisaworkoffiction.Names,characters,places,andincidentseitheraretheproductoftheauthor’simaginationorareusedfictitiously,andanyresemblancetoactualpersons,livingordead,business
establishments,events,orlocalesisentirelycoincidental.
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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.