Part I

The Town That Skipped February

Chapter One

Liza

On the first day of February, the sea became her enemy. Marooned on Point Roberts with nowhere to go, Liza Jennings was trapped among gruff, weird-looking strangers who glared at her with icy scowls. The only way she knew how to make sense of what had transpired was by heading into the woods, aiming to find solace in the giant moss-covered trees. As her muddy boots squelched against the saturated forest floor, she listened carefully to the whispers that came to her through the cracks of half-open clams, oddly embedded in the branches above.

A few strands of Liza’s curly red hair fell in front of her face, causing her to take a deep breath as she pushed them away. Forcing herself toward the shore, she moved further from the past she wished to forget. She made her way down the winding path, which curved around a steep ravine where the corpses of old, enormous pines withered and decayed. Eventually, the trees that were still firmly rooted in the ground began to thin as she ambled on, and the water in the distance decided to share a preview of its navy hue. Once she emerged from the thicket, the soggy brown trail slowly evolved into a multitude of beige-colored granules, which made Liza lift her feet higher as she walked, trying to keep the sand from slipping into her boots. The sound of gentle waves lapping the coast came to her as she arrived at sea level, and in that moment, she pretended this sweet melody was a gift from Mother Nature, played just for her.

If only the earth could be her guardian. Instead, Liza was stuck with new foster parents who refused to answer her questions about why the mayor had closed the border and outlawed the use of boats anywhere in the exclave’s vicinity. After the perplexing announcement had blared on the news that morning and her queries had gone unanswered, she’d stormed out of their dilapidated trailer on Benson Road in frustration. She hoped her journey down to Lily Point—where deciduous and coniferous trees comingled before leading to a stone-covered beach—could reveal a secret or two, because if no one else wanted to tell her what was going on, perhaps the ocean would.

When she finally made it to the shore and gazed out into the distance where the towering white peak of Mount Baker punctured the luminous blue sky, Liza reluctantly accepted that it would be twenty-eight days before anyone was allowed to enter or leave the peninsula again. Nothing about Point Roberts made any sense, but whether she liked it or not, this strange town was now her home. She knew she couldn’t run away this time. There was no way out.

The multicolored pebbles shifted beneath her boots as she took a step back to avoid a strong oncoming wave. Her gaze still lingered on the horizon, where an uncharacteristically clear sky slammed into the invisible edge of the salt-filled waters, which pulsed in discord. Liza had always loved the sea, but now that it was functioning as an impassable gateway, keeping her prisoner, her feelings toward it were conflicted. Some of her earliest memories were of walking with her pa along the bay in Bellingham, searching for stones to add to his extensive collection. She had lived in Washington State her entire life, the rain that came down so frequently just as much a part of her essence as the bright red hair that made her stick out in a crowd.

And while Point Roberts was still a part of the Evergreen State, it felt a world away from where Liza had spent her childhood. The small town was located on the edge of the Tsawwassen Peninsula, just barely protruding beneath the forty-ninth parallel, where the border between Canada and the United States had been placed in the mid-nineteenth century. Point Roberts was surrounded on three sides by water that stretched on for miles; the fourth side—the only thing keeping it from officially being an island—was the international border between the two countries. Even though Liza still had no idea why Mayor Schultz had closed the town off, she understood how it would be easy enough to keep people in, and intruders out.

With no high school in the town itself, she and the rest of the local teenagers had to ride a bus up through Canada and back down into the mainland of the United States just to get to class every weekday. Liza wondered if they would have the entire month of February off since no vehicles were going to be permitted to drive across the border. She hoped to God that her foster mother, Mary, wouldn’t have to homeschool her. It’d probably make her dumber.

Pa had died in 2013 when Liza was thirteen, resulting in her being put in the foster care system. Over the past four years, Liza had lived with six different families, located everywhere from Seattle to Spokane. After her third time running away from what her counselor deemed “a perfectly suitable living arrangement,” he’d decided to send her somewhere where it’d be nearly impossible to escape. She hadn’t realized how accurate his claim would be.

Seagulls flew overhead, squawking in dismay as they swooped above Liza, her gaze finally drawing back from the mountain-adorned skyline. There was no one else on the beach, no unruly strangers to scold her, no one for her to question about what the hell was going on. Her foster parents hadn’t been surprised when the announcement came on the news that morning. It was as if this were the most normal thing, a ritual every Point Roberts resident had come to accept.

To Liza, it was an unbearable tragedy, a rusted lock clamped tightly on whatever little freedom she had left.

She began to walk alongside the collapsing crests that continuously hit the shore, the water just a few inches away from where her boots crunched on the rocks that were littered everywhere. Liza had come down to Lily Point a few times previously, in the couple of months since she’d first been placed in Point Roberts shortly after Thanksgiving, but the weather had never been so clear before. The pebbles covering the beach shined more vibrantly in this light. The deep-red rocks that were present sat in stark contrast against the many black-and-white congregations, which were the kinds most commonly found.

Liza bent down to pick up a particularly beautiful crimson stone that was the size of a baby’s fist, rolling its smooth edges over repeatedly in the palm of her hand. Her mind unwillingly dragged her back to the last memory she had of Pa, who would have claimed this to be a perfect pebble.

***

“You know Liza, every day passes quicker than the last, so by the time we’re old and gray, we wake up before we’re even in bed,” he told her as they trudged through a forest of her past, trying to make an important point.

“You mean it feels like you wake up before you’re even asleep?” Liza inquired of his riddle, given to her just a few weeks after her thirteenth birthday as they hiked together on the Oyster Dome Trail outside Bellingham. “How can that be?”

“Well, my dear, there are other ways to rest the mind and soul. Some of us go through life like we’re half-conscious, asleep as we walk, barely recognizing those around us. Before I adopted you, I lived a solitary life wandering around the country, working odd jobs, stopping to explore any national park I came across. I was surrounded by exceptional beauty—white mountains, expansive valleys, towering pines—but having no one to share it with always made it seem to matter a little bit less.”

“Is that why you wanted me?” Liza asked as they emerged from the woods, ascending to their destination atop the rocky promontory, where a magnificent view of the San Juan Islands spread out across a royal-blue sea.

“Of course.” Pa sighed, trying to catch his breath now that they had reached the pinnacle of their challenging hike. “You know I’ve never been the romantic type, so finding a partner didn’t seem like the best idea. A daughter, on the other hand, was the kind of challenge I couldn’t pass up. So when you happened to appear in my life, I—”

Suddenly, a loud swooping noise truncated Pa’s explanation as his attention was pulled to the sky above them, where two hawks circled in rapid succession.

“Well, would you look at that,” he exclaimed, his voice full of wonder. “And to think we have this show all to ourselves.”

They were the only two standing on the outcropping, the unobstructed views of the islands surrendering to them beneath the hawks’ circular route. Liza felt dizzy after watching the birds for a few moments.

“Let’s go out closer to the edge to get a better look,” Pa suggested.

It was the last thing he ever said to her.

At sixty years old, Pa was no longer in the best shape of his life. After the strenuous hike, he was out of breath. The hawks overhead caused his steps to be unsteady as he remained distracted, watching their path in the sky instead of focusing on his footing. He moved toward the drop-off in flickering movements, while Liza followed behind. They arrived at the precipice of his life and rested there for the count of a single roaring heartbeat before one of the hawks descended from the sky. It slammed against Pa’s chest as it wrenched at the piece of beef jerky that had been resting in his shirt pocket.

He lost his balance immediately, his eyes connecting with Liza’s in shock before he fell backward, plummeting over the unforgiving cliff, unsure of why he was falling, before hitting the rocky forest floor hundreds of feet below. His body crumpled into a mass unlike itself, desecrated into something wholly unknown.

Liza screamed. Alone on the outlook, the fear in her voice echoed through the trees behind and below. That was the day everything changed, the day she started to hate the pines, hemlocks, and Douglas firs. Yet she had always believed the sea was still on her side, as it had never betrayed her. Not until this February.

***

She blinked hard, bringing herself back to the present as she squeezed the red rock in her hand. Whenever she was frustrated, confused, or scared, Liza found this final memory of Pa flooding back to her like a nightmare that wouldn’t fade. She’d continued her search for stones since the day he’d unwillingly left her, because she knew he would have wanted her to.

Liza could usually block out that terrifying, unwanted goodbye on Oyster Dome when she picked up a pebble Pa would have been proud of, but if she paired her search with any strong negative emotion, the scene replayed itself like a film skipping on repeat. The dark parts of her past that she wished to forget would never truly leave her. It wasn’t that she wanted to forget Pa, because their memories together were what she held most dear. Instead, she wished she could let go of what had happened to him, the abrupt end of his life, which haunted her like a ghost in a derelict castle.

Placing the stone into the pocket of her yellow raincoat, Liza continued along the coast, the sun warming her face as she breathed out heavily, the air filling her nostrils with the smell of salt as she tried to convince herself everything was going to be okay.

But would it be?

Since Pa had left her forever, the undoing of everything that had ever been done had eaten her up and spat her out on the side of the road like unwanted trash. Liza had considered herself garbage ever since, as many of her foster parents had shouted such profanities in her direction. She wished for this unending choir to cease, hoping for something easier than what was, but soon realized she wouldn’t be anything but a stranger among strangers, never meant to stay anywhere for long. It was for this reason she had to run. No one else wanted her. She was simply a lost girl, passing along the edges of the sea.

And now the sea had trapped her in Point Roberts for the month of February. The waves crashing on the shore served as her prison guard, keeping her from breaking free.

A strong wave pushed forward, accelerating swiftly so that Liza was unable to move out of the way before the water hit her. Her toes became submerged, but luckily, the thick rubber boots she was wearing protected them from getting soaked. As she veered closer to the beach, Liza tripped over something the tide had brought forth, a loud clunking noise emanating at her feet.

She toppled forward onto the shore, using her hands to brace her fall as she swore loudly, hitting the ground with a soft thud. Stretched out, parallel with the wet ground, Liza kicked her feet violently to free herself from the large pile of seaweed that had wrapped its tentacles around her boots, pulling her down. She had sat up to remove the final few pieces that were still stubbornly clinging to her, when a bright orange color caught her attention. There was something mixed in with the mound of seaweed. Something manmade.

“What the—?” Liza exclaimed, unsure what she was looking at.

She sat up farther, pulling back the slippery seaweed that entangled the rectangular shape, the slimy sea foliage feeling both coarse and scaly against her hands. Once she had removed enough, Liza grabbed the mysterious object and lifted it off the ground.

It was a book.

An orange book in a clear plastic box.

Liza opened the box and pulled the book out. It was a large, heavy, extremely thick book whose pages were sticking out at mismatched angles, the edges roughly cut, as if someone had put it together by hand. The cover was made from a sturdy piece of leather that was fastened shut with a locked metal latch, so it couldn’t be opened without a key.

On the cover, the words The Fifteen were written in a messy, cursive scrawl. No other words were present.

Liza pried at the lock, trying to see if she could rip the book open. When the lock didn’t budge, she pulled the rock from the pocket of her raincoat and slammed it down against the metal, a sharp clacking noise coming from where the two collided. After trying this a few more times with no success, Liza gave up, realizing the lock wasn’t going to magically spring open just because she wanted it to.

She turned the book over in her hands, seeing if there was any other way to access its contents. At first, the back cover looked completely bare, but then Liza noticed a tiny piece of seaweed in the bottom right corner still suctioned on. She plucked it off. Once removed, the word TOP was revealed; the handwriting was similar to the words on the front, albeit at a much smaller scale.

Taking a closer look, Liza wondered if maybe it wasn’t a word at all, as tiny periods separated each letter.

T.O.P.

Were these the author’s initials? What else could it mean? She had no idea where this book had come from. It could have floated for hundreds of miles before arriving in Point Roberts. She had to find a way to get into the book, as the contents would likely offer up an explanation of whatever The Fifteen meant. Since it wasn’t going to be possible to get the lock open down on the beach, Liza knew it was time to start heading back to the trailer on Benson Road, now with more questions than she had left with.

“What’d you find there, little missy?” a raspy voice creaked from above.

Without thinking, Liza shrieked and bolted to her feet, swinging the book madly, accidentally bashing it into the face of the woman who’d questioned her. Liza had not anticipated her sudden appearance. The book had captivated Liza so fully that she hadn’t even heard the woman approach.

Blood gushed from the stranger’s nostrils as she cried out in pain, her wide-brimmed hat tilted askew over the sprouts of her long auburn hair. “What the hell didya do that for?” she asked, her voice gurgling as Liza began to run.

She had to run.

Her legs became unsteady as her boots slipped over slick rocks; her heart was beating fast as she clutched the orange book to her chest. The adrenaline released from the encounter pumped through her veins, urging her to get away from Lily Point as fast as possible. She didn’t know why, but for some reason, she had the strongest feeling this book was important.

Dangerous, even.

Liza sped hurriedly away from the coast, immersing herself back into the long grassy reeds that sat farther away from the shore. The rocks and sand began to disappear, evolving into an ombré trail before changing entirely into the dark earthy colors of the woods. The woman continued to shout down by the water, but with each step Liza took, her voice grew quieter. Liza kept running uphill, past the decaying pines that had fallen dead into the steep ravine, the still-growing trees thickening their embrace around her as the green moss multiplied in her view.

A cacophony of whispers echoed in Liza’s eardrums as the snowy-white clams sang in the branches overhead. She did not stay to decode their anomalies, knowing full well that it was in her best interest to get back to Benson Road. There she could hide in the pink bedroom her foster parents had provided, the moth-eaten curtains adorning the windows capable of blocking out the light, blocking out the bad, blocking out the absurdities of Point Roberts and the ridiculous rules that had arrived this February.

At the top of the hill, the path diverged in two directions, gravel covering the previously barren earth. Liza bolted to the left toward the small houses on the edge of the park. After a few more ardent strides, she left the trail, cutting into the woods, passing a tiny purple cottage placed delicately on the outskirts of the forest.

So shook up from her stressful morning and the encounter down at the beach, Liza didn’t notice the handsome middle-aged man, standing on the front porch of the purple cottage, who watched her race by.

But he noticed her.

And more importantly, he noticed the large orange book she was carrying.

He’d seen it before.

And he had hoped to never see it again.

Sighing heavily, the man headed back inside as Liza continued to run—away from the past she wished to forget, toward a future she could never have imagined.