In Which Olive Commentates on a Rather Peculiar Chore Day
Disclamer: I don't own these characters. Any of them! All rights go to Ransom Riggs and Quirk Publishing. RnR!
Olive's POV
"Ugh," Jake and Emma breathed as they collapsed onto the sofa in unison. Well, I guess that any day like today would leave anyone weary. And, what day would leave such energetic chaps such as Jacob and Emma to be left exhausted? Well, chore day of course! Ever since myself and Hugh, Millard, Claire, Enoch, Bronwyn, Emma, Horace, and Miss Peregrine moved to the Portman's house Miss Peregrine made sure that every other Sunday was chore day. She said that it was the least that we can do to thank Mr. and Mrs. Jacob's parents for taking us in, was to clean up the house. So, here we were all "suffering from the aftermath," as Enoch put it, of chore day.
I have to say, some were in batter shape than others. Horace and Enoch, who were assigned to laundry duty, were ironing and folding the laundered clothes. I can still, hear Horace reminding Enoch not to burn his clothes and Jacob's underwear. I can still hear them fighting over the iron. Horace was not wearing his posh clothes since they were still being ironed, so he looked quite disheveled. Enoch was pretty much the same.
Hugh was looking after Henry and his bee colony. Though, he was technically on outdoor duty. He got to clean the massive pool (though it was not a large as the sea near our island). He tended the garden. Planted some annuals, that he insisted getting and harvested honey from his new, FlowHive. He even let me harvest the honey! I have to say, beekeeping is much less laborious, in the future.
Emma, Bronwyn, and Jacob were on household cleaning and dusting duty. They all got to wear silly aprons and gloves. The whole latter half of the day they were vacuuming, dusting, mopping, sweeping, window washing, bleaching, picture cleaning, and etc. the house. Now that they were done, the house smelled like lemon spray. At least the windows and floors sparkled. Even the spaces beneath the couches, and beds, and tables were cleaned. Bronwyn had to lift up the heavy things so that Jacob could vacuum beneath it.
Ms. Peregrine's, Claire's, and my job was to place all the toys and cluttered items where they belonged so that the "cleaning squadron" could easily clean the area. I helped place some things on the highest shelves and reach things from the top of the fridge. I also got to float all the way on top of the Portman's house to get Hugh's, Frisbee.
Our group was the first to finish the chores so we cooked dinner. Horace and Enoch were upstairs placing everyone's clothes in their drawers. Jake and Emma, seemed to be asleep on the sofa now. Bronwyn didn't seem to be tired at all and moved on to cleaning the attic.
"Ms. Elephanta," Ms. Peregrine addressed me as she looked up from a pot of mushroom stew. "May you please go wake up Mr. Portman, and Ms. Bloom. I need them to set the table."
"Yes, Ms. P.," I said as I stopped staring at the kitchen timer and made my way to the living room.
The two were asleep peacefully. Emma was using one armrest as a pillow, and Jacob was snoring softly on the armrest adjacent to her. "Psst!" I called into their ears. "Psst! Emma, Jacob, wake up!" That didn't work. Time for another option then, "EMMA, JACOB, WAKEY, WAKEY!" I yelled while shaking Emma. Still, no response from Emma, but at least Jacob was stirring.
"Fibe... more minutes, Mom," he whined.
"Ugh! Miss Peregrine, they just won't wake up!" I shouted back.
"Well, why don't you use the kitchen timer, you've been staring at this past twenty minutes, Olive!" Claire said while raising her voice.
"If I use the timer here, then, we won't know when the chicken's done!" I retorted back. Then, a little light bulb went off in my head like those cartoon character, I saw on flat television.
I grabbed Jacob's phone from the centre table. Once saw him use it to set off an alarm, to wake himself up the next day. Ok, now I just need to know how he did it. I remembered that he went to the button with a clock on it. But there were so many buttons. I just had to keep on flicking my finger. Then, after six swipes, I found it! The timer was then on the screen. I then brilliantly set it on 0 hours and 0 minutes. I made sure the phone was on full volume, aaandd...
"WHEEEEOOOOO-WHEEEOOOO-WHOO" the alarm blared. It sounded just like the ambulance or the large firetruck.
"Ahhhh!" screamed Emma and Jacob woke up in unison. Once they collected themselves, I smiled at them, impressed with my way of waking them up.
"Mr. Portman, Ms. Bloom, may you please keep your voice in an indoor tone and turn off that racket." Ms. Peregrine said, in a tone of authority.
"Yes, Ms. Peregrine," they said in unison, again. They always seemed to know what each other is thinking. Well, I guess that couples for you.
"Olive," Jacob said while turning off the alarm, "did you have to make the alarm so loud." He massaged his temple a bit.
"Well, you two just wouldn't wake up! I had to do something," I explained. Why in peculiardom would he blame me? It's his and Emma's fault they wouldn't wake up. "Anyways, Ms. Peregrine needs you two to set the table," I said, trying to mimic Ms. Peregrine's authoritative voice.
"Well, we'll be on it, won't we, Jake, Emma," Bronwyn said emerging suddenly down the stairs. She the picked me up in an embrace.
"Bronwyn put me down!" I demanded, feeling my face flush red. Bronwyn was still covered in her apron and smelled of lemon spray. I could feel Jacob and Emma's amused faces staring at me. Bronwyn began to finger comb my hair, oh the humility!
"Sweetie, don't you want Bronwyn to help you cook? I can make pasta," she offered.
"First, can you put me down," I said. Bronwyn then gently placed me on the sofa. Jacob and Emma left the living room and headed forth the kitchen, sensing a private conversation. "No, I don't need help, I can do it all by myself!"
"I guess, I knew this day was coming," Bronwyn kissed my forehead. "My little Olive, all grown up."
"Bronwyn, stop making a big deal about this! I can manage myself. Who was our lookout, when we were escaping the Wights? Who helped us get out of Abaton before the loop closed?" I retorted, a little defensively.
As I said this Bronwyn's expression darkened. I started to regret what I said.
"I guessed we all grew up a little more during our adventures," she sighed, "we had to."
"But, that doesn't really matter now does it?" I called back. "We live here in Jacob's house now, we can all be normal!"
"I guess, but we're still as peculiar as we once were when we lived in our loop," Bronwyn said. "Some would say that we're even more peculiar now," she paused. "Well, I got to do my chore, Olive. I wish you great success in your cooking skill, chef!"
"Ok, it'll be the best roasted chicken ever!" I reassured Bronwyn. "My signature dish. I even have a secret ingredient!"
"Alright, I guess we'll all be the judge of that."
"I have got to say, this is great chicken," Millard said, with a mouthful of chicken. I beamed, of course, my chicken's good. My secret ingredient never fails! Even though this is the first time I used it.
"Well, I have to say, Millard," Enoch started, "it's great that you decided to put on clothes for the occasion."
"Yeah, Millard where have you been?" Claire asked.
"Well, madame Densmore I'm glad you asked! I, Millard Nullings, have been working to finish the Map of Days since there has never been a North American version. Nor South American for that matter. This uncharted territory we're in!" Millard finished off with a flair.
"You know, I've wondered, maybe there are other loops and other peculiars here. Living in their own society, different from Eurasian peculiars. Almost like a different culture," Jacob asked while digging into the chicken.
"Well, Jake, I've wondered the same thing. Perhaps there are more peculiars out there, and that to some extent they are oblivious to Eurasian peculiardom," Millard continued.
"A new peculiardom!" Claire said excitedly. "I wonder when we can go meet them!"
"Now, now children," Miss Peregrine said wiping off some food around Claire's backmouth. "We can't just go whisking off into the unknown. We must make sure that the normals around this area do not know about our secret. Maybe someday, we can all find more peculiars—"
"—Maybe there's some at Jacob's school!" Claire cut off. I saw Miss Peregrine give Claire a rather disapproving look.
"As, I was saying," Miss Peregrine continued in a monotone, "our first priority is that our identity as peculiars is unknown to the public."
"But, what if I'm not good at keeping the secret?" Claire asks a bit worriedly.
"You can pretend that you're a top secret spy, and you're on a mission. Since you're one of the most elite spies in Britain, you have to keep your identity super-secret," Horace said thoughtfully. I have to admit, that was good advice, and cool, too. I've always wanted to be a spy.
"So, a regular James Bond type," Jacob said. We all gave him confused looks. He just stared back, looking even more confused. "James Bond? Double-O seven? Works for 'her majesty the queen'?"
"Nope, not ringing any bells," Enoch declared.
"Right, future thing. I'm definitely making you guys watch Bond movies. Plus, the first one's not that far from your time. It was made in 1962."
"Well, at least we know what to watch on movie night," Emma said. "This time, remember to buy popcorn."
"May, you pass me some lemonade dear Emma," Horace said in his oh-so-polite tone. "I'd like the ice shaken, not stirred."
I could've sworn I heard Jacob's knife clatter.
"How in peculiardom am I supposed to shake the ice without melting it!" Emma retorted at the baseless order.
"So, Hugh," Bronwyn said, she was trying for some small talk. "How are the bees this harvest?"
Dinner was pretty much over now. All of us peculiars were cleaning up the table, washing the dishes, cleaning up the kitchen, throwing away the disposable napkins, drying the dishes, placing table scraps in sealed containers, and setting out a new meal for Mr. and Mrs. Portman. When us peculiars have chore day every other Sunday, Mr. and Mrs. Portman have a date night. Jacob says time alone from so many children should help calm their nerves. I don't think that's right, though. Miss Peregrine would freak if anyone of us left her.
"What was the weird noise, earlier. It sounded like the ambulance," Enoch half-complained and half-asked.
"Oh, it was Jacob's alarm," I said in my most innocent voice.
"Jacob! How many times do you have to make such a racket! It was almost as loud as the bombing sirens in London! The neighbors we'll really freak now!" Enoch retorted.
"Well, I'm not the one trying to raise the dead in the basement! What happens when the neighbors find out about that, huh?" Jacob replied defensively.
"Oh come one Enoch, it's not a big deal. I mean the alarm setting was not a big deal, the necromancy definitely is. Besides," I added, "I set off the alarm." Something told me that I wouldn't talk much to Enoch today after that.
"Well, children I have to say, another successful chore day for us!" Miss Peregrine clapped, proud of our handy work.
A few minutes after we were done fixing up the dinner table, the front door opened, sending in a humid and sticky air. Voices then came out from the threshold.
"See, Maryann," came Mr. Portman's voice, "told you everything would be fine."
"Frank, tonight was wonderful, next time, promise me, that you'll remember our reservation," came Mrs. Portman's voice.
"Fine, I promise, alright."
"Well, children," Ms. Peregrine whispered to us "off to bed now."
"Goodnight, Miss Peregrine."
"Goodnight, Ms. Elephanta."
"Goodnight, Claire."
"Goodnight, Olive." "
"Goodnight, Bronwyn."
"Sweet dreams, Olive."
"Goodnight, Emma."
"Goodnight, Olive."
"Goodnight, Jacob."
"G'night, Olive."
"Goodnight, Enoch... Enoch?"
"'Night..zzzzzzzzzzzzzzz"
"Goodnight, Millard."
"Stay peculiar, Olive."
"Sweet dreams, Horace."
"Goodnight, Ms. Olive."
"Goodnight, Hugh!"
"Goodnight! The bees say goodnight as well!"
One ymbryne and her nine wards, all fast asleep. Today was a great day. Olive knew that everything would be great tomorrow as well. She hoped it would. And what's so bad about hoping?
A/N For the record, Horace DID dream about a James Bond movie. Dang, one of the shortest things I've written. Which one is a mystery to all of us. Anyways, I'll hopefully be continuing this story. Thanks for reading! I love feedback!
Also... Stay Peculiar out there folks.