Danielle Stinson's Before I Disappear is an action-packed YA novel where a young woman has to find her little brother after her town disappears into thin air.
Rose Montgomery parks her family's trailer in Fort Glory, Oregon with one goal: to carve out a new life for herself and her little brother, Charlie. They need a fresh start for their family, and she thinks she's finally found it in a town where nobody knows them.
But Rose's plans come crashing down when, in an instant, Fort Glory disappears and every person in town vanishes into thin air—including Charlie.
Rose and four other teens become trapped in the Fold, a patch of woods caught halfway between the real world and the lost town. In the Fold, a mysterious force suspends the laws of physics, and everyone's inner darkness has the power to kill.
To survive the Fold, Rose must unravel the clues Charlie sends her from the missing town. And Rose has to find Charlie soon—or he'll be gone forever.
Release date:
August 18, 2020
Publisher:
Feiwel & Friends
Print pages:
320
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Her clothes are my first clue. The predawn crowd at the Dusty Rose diner is made up of fishermen and loggers—men who like their coffee black and their boots broken-in. The woman’s sweater and slacks have that department-store sheen. But it’s more than what she’s wearing. It’s the way every eye in the room cuts to her and then away. A sudden lull in conversation that screams a warning in my ear.
Stranger.
I wipe down the counter and keep tabs on the woman hovering by the entrance. When we first moved into town, most people assumed Mom, Charlie, and I were part of the small group of invaders that has descended on Fort Glory over the past month. An army of tabloid journalists carrying notepads and handheld recorders. UFO chasers, criminologists, and environmentalists. Even a few government types. They’ve been flocking here these past few weeks, drawn by the strange reports. It wouldn’t be a problem if their general nosing around wasn’t also keeping the tourists away. Let’s just say, the locals aren’t too thrilled.
By now, most of the residents have accepted that my family has nothing to do with these “invaders.” All the same, they haven’t rolled out any red carpets. In a way, I’m grateful. As long as the people here are preoccupied with the outsiders and the rumors that brought them here, they’re too busy to wonder about us.
The woman makes a beeline for the corkboard wall. It’s littered with announcements in colorful scraps of paper. She rips down a bright pink pamphlet and studies it with narrowed eyes.
After a quick glance at the clock, I duck under the counter to gather my things. My first shift started at four thirty this morning, and the next one isn’t till tonight. Charlie and I start school today, but that isn’t what has my stomach tied up in knots. I can’t stop thinking about the Hands for Hearths application hidden in my backpack. Twelve pieces of paper that could change our lives forever.
And Mom has no idea.
When I stand, the woman is waiting for me on the other side of the counter. She’s got sharp features and an even sharper gaze. Cop.
I push the unsettling thought away. Her clothes are too nice, and she doesn’t have that world-weary look that comes with the job. Must be another reporter. Like the other strangers flocking to Fort Glory, she’s here for something that has nothing to do with me.
“Coffee,” she orders, taking a seat by the big window overlooking the Oregon woods. Despite offering the best view in the house, that section of the diner is mostly deserted. There’s a reason for that. He is sitting at table nine.
The young man glances up from his breakfast when the reporter slides into the booth two rows up. He studies the woman, and I study him while I dig in my bag for my keys. He’s older than I am. Around nineteen. A faded Mariners cap is pulled down low over his forehead, emphasizing a strong nose and jaw. Even with a dusting of scars and light stubble, he has the kind of face most seventeen-year-old girls would cut out of a magazine and plaster on their bedroom walls. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t notice. Still, it isn’t the way he looks that interests me.
It’s the way other people look at him.
It goes like this. Every day, the boy at table nine comes in just before sunrise. As soon as he sits down, there’s a noticeable shift as the men in the nearby booths give him their backs. They don’t say a word as they freeze him out, and for his part, the kid ignores their existence. That alone would make him interesting, but there’s something else, too.
The pink pamphlet. The one the reporter grabbed from the wall.
The first time I saw it, the boy from table nine was tacking it to the board by the front door. Frankie, my boss, tore it down before I could check it out. Some variation of this scene has played out every morning since I started working here. That was five days ago—long enough to make me wonder what’s on that pamphlet to make the boy at table nine so wildly unpopular.
I’m shrugging into my coat when a hairy hand drops onto my arm. “The woman at table seven,” Frankie wheezes. “Find out what she wants.”
“I’ve got to go. Gloria—”
“Has the biggest mouth in six counties.” Frankie jerks his chin toward the waiting woman. “We don’t need any more headlines dragging the name of this town through the mud. Take her order and send her on her way. Call it a favor.”
The sun is already starting to rise over the parking lot, but I owe Frankie. He didn’t have to hire us without a scrap of paperwork when we rolled into town last week. Then again, Mom tends to have that effect on people. Or more specifically, on men.
The reporter wastes no time getting down to business when I place a steaming cup in front of her. She slides a crisp bill across the table. Ten dollars. That’s a week’s worth of frozen dinners. A new pair of shoes for Charlie. I need the money, but not as much as I need this job.
“Can I get you something else?” I ignore the bribe.
“Do you live in Fort Glory…” She scans my name tag. “Rose?”
“My family moved here a week ago.” We don’t have a TV and the truck radio has been busted forever, so I had no idea what kind of a media storm we were walking into when Charlie pointed to the dot on the map that marked this quaint Oregon town. By the time I figured it out, it was already too late. One look at the town nestled between a sea of Douglas firs and an ocean of waves, and I’d fallen hard.
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