The next morning, Jacob and I sat in comfortable, happy silence as we ate our breakfast. After everything that had happened the previous day, why wouldn't we be happy? We had discovered the very people we came to see in the first place were still alive and thriving. Not even when we stepped out into the pouring rain did our mood sour, as we knew we'd soon be greeted by the bright, sunny sky of the loop.
As we walked through the forest, our hoods up and our hands shoved in our pockets, Jacob began speaking. "So, I got a call last night," he said, seeming uncertain with his words, as if he wasn't sure he wanted to tell me this.
"From who?" I asked, looking up at him as I prompted him to elaborate on his vague remark. As I did so, I nearly tripped over a stray root jutting out from the ground, so I focused back on the ground to avoid any further incidences.
"Dr. Golan. He told me that he's worried about me." Jacob scoffed after answering, a small, disbelieving smile on his face.
"Okay, so, what did you say?" I press, hoping to god that he didn't actually say anything about the kids being alive – not that I thought he was dumb enough to do that.
Jake thought for a second – planning out his explanation, no doubt – before replying. "What he wanted to hear." I laughed at that – we both did – before he continued. "No, I just explained what we've been doing. Then I lied about being over the whole 'grandpa' thing. I mean, sure I still get nightmares sometimes, but what do you expect with PTSD? I'm totally over it."
"Really? 'Cause it sounds like you're trying to convince yourself of that more than anyone else," I pointed out.
"Whatever, Kallie. Anyway, it was a kind of choppy conversation, anyway. He was picking up his sister at an airport, so he kept on getting talked over by the crowd. He wishes you well, also." I nodded, being respectful of the fact that he didn't want to talk about his grandpa more than he had to. Then, something dawned on me.
"Wait, you had, like, two meetings with him before we left. Did you tell him about my ghost thing?"
Jacob shook his head, a small smile on his lips. "No, I just told him you were my cousin."
"Oh, like what we told Kev?" I countered, laughing a little. Jake laughed a bit, too.
"Yeah, I guess."
By that time, we'd reached the cairn after nearly getting lost twice along the way, and I was more than relieved to pull my hood off my head and welcome the bright, sunny, September morning. The relief faded slightly when I noticed an annoyed-looking Emma there, already waiting for us. "Well, it two you two long enough. Everyone's been waiting for ages!"
"Really?" Jacob asked, stepping closer to the feisty blonde. I, however, stayed back, still a little nervous about being around her, seeing as just yesterday she had both captured and threatened to kill me.
"Well, of course," Emma replied before taking Jake's hand and heading off, leaving me to follow behind them. What had happened between them last night? I pushed the unvoiced question from my head and instead began fantasizing about what today would hold with the children. I had just about lost sight of them when we burst through the trees, emerging into the large yard of the house. As we entered the backyard, we were greeted with a pleasant surprise.
The children were all busy, setting up for what appeared to be a concert. Already there was a small wooden stage set up and various kids were getting dressed up in exaggerated costumes that one would expect from a bunch of dancers and businessmen rather than children. Then again, they weren't really children, were they?
Those who weren't getting in costume or setting something else up were playing music, more than likely to accompany whatever show was coming up. It was a three part group, consisting of a positively ancient looking contraption resembling a cello that Horace seemed more than comfortable with, an equally old looking trombone, and an accordion.
I walked forward until I was standing on Emma's other side. "So, what is this, some kind of play?" I ask, growing more excited at the prospect. Emma turned to me with a small smirk.
"Oh, you'll see." With that, she walked away, Jacob on her heels - no doubt to ask more questions. I couldn't help but feel like if he had asked, we might have received a more helpful answer. I set off on my own, watching the children - in a totally non-creepy way - as the flitted about in their costumes. I could tell by the increase in their energy that the show was soon going to start, and my suspicions were confirmed when a whistle blew.
I made my way over to the folding chairs set up in a row in front of the stage taking a seat next to Olive, who sat on the very end. I looked up just in time to see Millard walking onto the stage, a goofy grin on his face. I couldn't help but smile at his outfit - somewhere out there, a barbershop quartet was missing its fourth member. His eyes rested on me, and for a second, I could have sworn his smile brightened - just a tad - before he began speaking.
"Ladies and gentlemen, I am most honored to present you with an astounding performance unlike any other!" he began, nearly shouting, as if he were addressing a crowd ten times the size of this one. It made me wonder: how many times had they performed in front of a real crowd? "A show so daring and magical, it's hard to believe the performers are hardly adults! Guests, friends, I present to you, Miss Peregrine and her Peculiar Children!"
With that, everyone in the crowd began applauding loudly, myself included. Millard took a bow, tipped his hat, then began speaking again. "Now, I will present our first illusion, the mastermind behind the production, Miss Peregrine!" Immediately after he finished speaking, he ducked under the curtain and returned only about half a minute later, a folded sheet on one arm and a bird - a peregrine falcon, to be exact - on the other. Before doing anything with either, Millard nodded to the orchestra, who began playing a hearty carnival tune.
The next thing he did was set the falcon down on the stage next to him and unfold the sheet, holding it in front of the blue-gray raptor. "Three, two, one!" came the countdown, and suddenly the beating of wings sounded and Miss Peregrine's head appeared above the sheet, one hundred percent human, I supposed. Millard averted his eyes until the headmistress took the sheet from him, wrapping it around her body. It seemed that when one shape-shifts, their clothes don't go with them. Well, that would make for some odd looks, anyway. A smile came to me when I imagined Miss Peregrine in her bird form, flying around in a black dress.
"Mr. Portman, Miss Sanders, I'm glad that you two have returned. We used to perform this little show around the continent back in our golden days. I supposed it would make explaining each our talents... entertaining, to say the least." Before either Jacob or I could respond, Miss Peregrine gracefully fled the stage back to the house to clothe herself. Then, the rest of the show commenced.
It began, of course, with Millard, as he was already on stage. Of course, that was the one display I didn't watch for obvious reasons. I assumed it would be 'PG' as he began removing his suit jacket and shirt, but I knew to look away as soon as he began undoing the button on his pants. I mean, sure I'd seen the male human body in health class in school, and it was just that - a body, like mine, but different. A literal meat-suit for our souls, or whatever. However, I had only met this guy yesterday, and we clearly weren't close enough for anything past an awkward hug.
Olive went after Millard, removing her special leaden shoes so that she could perform an anti-gravity gymnastics routine. Directly after Olive was Emma, who created, swallowed, and spat back up her own fire.
I was most definitely impressed, at this point, by the both of them, and then a large girl - perhaps fifteen or sixteen? - came up on stage dragging a mini-fridge-sized boulder behind her. I recognized her from dinner yesterday, but she seldom spoke, so I never remembered her name. Olive, sitting next to me once more after trodding off the stage, clapped quickly. "Yay, Bronwyn!" she cheered, letting off the impression that the two were quite close. So, her name was Bronwyn. Well, that was one of my questions answered.
Bronwyn stood, clearly uncomfortable, at center-stage before she lifted the boulder above her head with ease. She yawned, and I wasn't sure if she was just bluffing or of she was genuinely bored. By the expression on her face and the way she walked off the stage with the boulder tucked under one arm like a pillow, it was safe to say that the latter was the most accurate of the two. Nonetheless, I applauded just as loud as the rest of the crowd.
Fiona, who was sitting on my other side, stood and made her way onstage. Millard - back in his clothes, thank god, carried a planter full of dirt to the center of the stage and left before Fiona arrived, leaving her alone on the stage. The orchestra began playing a crude version of "Flight of the Bumblebee" as she arrived behind the planter. She began moving her hands above the box, her face full of such determination that I felt myself growing more focused and concentrated just watching her. Finally, a row of bright, beautiful daisies burst forth from the dirt just as the music crescendoed. They grew towards her hands with speed, and as she raised her hands higher, the daisies grew at the same speed.
Before long, Hugh joined her onstage, opening his mouth to let his bees fly out and pollinate the daisies. It looked to be a peculiar mating ritual of sorts, and I decided that I'd bet good money on the two of them being a couple for real.
Only a two acts followed after them; Claire ate corn straight off the cob with her backmouth, and Enoch displayed how he could take the heart of a mouse and put it inside a clay doll in order to bring it to life. Both were quite amazing, but by the time Enoch's doll was walking around, most of the children had begun itching to get moving again, never comfortable with sitting down for longer than ten minutes unless they were eating.
After about a half hour of lounging around or playing croquet, that's exactly what we did: eat. Leftovers from the previous night's goose were put into sandwiches, followed by some creamy chocolate pudding. After the younger children ran off to attend one of Miss Peregrine's lessons, us older children remained at the table in the sitting room, lounging about in the cool house, away from the late summer heat. Soon enough, Emma began complaining that she wanted to go to the beach.
"Absolutely not," Millard protested. I turned my head to look at him, leaning back in his chair with his suit jacket unbuttoned. "I'm quite stuffed, thank you very much."
"I'd just sink, no doubt," Bronwyn commented, her voice muffled slightly by a pillow as she curled up on a loveseat. Regardless, not fifteen minutes later, Emma, Bronwyn, Fiona, Hugh, Horace, Jacob, and I were all heading out the door, a slightly upset Millard on our heels, miffed that we were about to leave without him.
"The best place to swim is the harbor," Emma informed Jacob and me as we walked through the forest.
My eyes widened when I realized going to the harbor would require strolling straight through town. "What about those guys at the Priest Hole? You know, the ones who want Jake and I dead?""Don't be daft," she retorted, rolling her eyes. "They wanted you two dead yesterday, but because of the loop, they'll remember nothing of you." I nodded before Jacob spoke up./p
"Don't be daft," she retorted, rolling her eyes. "They wanted you two dead yesterday, but because of the loop, they'll remember nothing of you." I nodded before Jacob spoke up."So, uh... what about our clothes? We don't exactly fit in around here." At his words, I looked down at my outfit; jean capris, a white tank top, and my olive green hoodie tied around my waist. He had a point./p
"So, uh... what about our clothes? We don't exactly fit in around here." At his words, I looked down at my outfit; jean capris, a white tank top, and my olive green hoodie tied around my waist. He had a point.
Horace was the one to answer the question, giving Jacob and me each a towel each as he spoke. "Hang these around your necks. It will do a well enough job of covering your... future clothes." I did as Horace said before I examined his outfit.
"Of course, I don't want anyone thinking I dress oddly." My remark, though sarcastic, was aimed particularly at the fact that Horace was dressed in a suit, bow-tie and all.
"Well, if you're referring to my waistcoat, I can admit, I'm quite the follower of fashion." His remark sent everyone snickering. "Oh, call me a fob, I don't mind, but just because the villagers won't remember my clothes doesn't allow me to dress like a poor man! Besides, if all we have to look forward to in the future is that," he took a pause and pointed an accusing finger at Jacob, "God, help us all!"
As the laughter began to die down, we picked up our pace again, heading into town now. I watched as Jacob pulled Emma away from the group slightly, and I had no desire to find out what they were talking about. I looked away when I heard the sound of footsteps beside me. It was - no surprise - Millard.
"So, how did you enjoy the show this morning? I never had the chance to ask you." I smile at the question, images returning to my head of the feats the children had accomplished just a couple hours before.
"It was great, really. Jacob told me you juggled glass bottles. It's a shame I missed it." At my words, Millard furrowed his eyebrows.
"Well, there's no reason you - oh! Never mind. I'm still getting used to the idea of being seen," he said, his face falling.
I sigh, then cast a quick glance towards Horace. "So, aside from his style, what makes Horace peculiar?" Millard followed my gaze.
"Oh, Horace? He has prophetic dreams. They can be quite harsh on him sometimes, too, and very often come true." I nodded to let him know that I understood.
"I see," I murmured, and we continued in silence. I was shocked when we arrived in town. By that time, I had wrapped and tucked the towel under my armpits, giving off the illusion that I was already in my bathing suit, and as I had been told, no one recognized me. We made our way quickly through town, only a few odd looks tossed our way by the townsfolk. It felt like the oddest case of deja vu.
It was weird to see everything so different, yet so similar. In all honesty, I half-expected to see myself and Jacob running down the street away from an angry mob of people, but as we passed the Priest Hole, I saw two of the men who had been after Jacob and I yesterday having a casual conversation.
Jacob was the first to break the silence as we finally left the town. "You guys must know a lot about this place since you've lived here so long."
"Oh, it's Millard who really knows everything," Horace said nonchalantly. "He's been writing a book about everything here for the past seventy years. How long did you spend on pigs again, Mill?"
"Three years," he replied, a blush coming to his cheeks. I nearly burst out laughing.
"You must be patient as fuck, then," I commented.
Millard frowned. "I am indeed patient. Though, I don't appreciate your choice of words." Jacob let out an audible 'ooh' before backing away. I crossed my arms over my chest as a smirk fell across my lips.
"Is that so? Well, I don't appreciate your constant nagging at my 'choice of words'. For fuck's sake, just let me be! God!" Millard's frown seemed to deepen, though I supposed that was nearly impossible at that point.
"Very well. If that's how you see it, I will." With that, Millard walked away, leaving everyone else behind. I looked around at the others, to see faces of shock or amusement, though mostly the latter.
"So," Jacob started, "when's the wedding?"
I started walking again, Hugh and Fiona doing the same. "Fuck you," I replied, then turned back around and followed Millard's shrinking figure toward the harbor. "Patient my ass," I muttered under my breath, glaring at him.
At long last, we made it to the harbor, then began walking along until we reached the best part of the beach. Well, the least rocky part of the beach, though it was, quite frankly, beautiful. It was only when we reached our destination that I realized something important.
"Uh, guys? I don't have any of my bathing suits with me." It wouldn't usually a problem - I knew I could just strip to my bra and underwear - but this was 1940's Britain, not Florida in 2013. The most any of the boys would have seen of the female body would have been knees, or perhaps a scandalous sliver of midriff and back. Although, seeing as Millard was invisible to everyone else, who knew what sort of antics he got up to? He was spying on literally everyone in town, after all.
Emma looked thoughtful for a moment, frowning before she came up with a solution. "Well, we'd waste too much time going back to the house for an extra suit. I don't suppose the boys would mind too much if you just wore your underthings. That's what they're going to be doing, anyway." We all agreed that that would be the best decision and that from now on I would bring an extra suit with me, just in case. Then Emma, Bronwyn, and Fiona left to change into their own, modest bathing suits while the rest of us stripped, save for Horace, who removed next to nothing aside from his shoes and tie. When the girls came back, we all began swimming.
Emma and Bronwyn had their own little race while the rest of us just relaxed and swam around in the shallower area of the water. When we grew too tired to swim, we made our way onto the sand to lay down and relax. When it grew too warm to just sit around, we went back into the water. It went on and on like that for hours. When we finally decided to call it quits, the sun was nearing the horizon, and my skin had a more rosy tint than usual.
All tired out from swimming, we began talking instead. The kids had so many questions for Jacob and me, and we could finally answer truthfully without the watchful eye of Miss Peregrine regulating our every word. What did we eat? What kind of clothes did we wear? When would science finally find a cure for illness and death? I mean, sure, they had their own sort of fountain of youth, but they were thirsting for new people and information and stories. So, Jacob and I told them.
They were fascinated by most of what we had to say: we've finally reached the moon, the various wars, cellular telephones, on-demand television programs! Even air conditioning and airplanes intrigued them, though those things seemed so basic to us two 'future kids'. We showed them our phones, which seemed to be the thing which grabbed their attention most.
When we finally began the walk back to the house, the sun was beginning to set, sending the sky into a frenzy of brilliant pinks and purples and oranges. Our conversation - though still going - was winding down, and I couldn't help but notice the flirting going on between Jacob and Emma. When they stopped by an apple tree, the rest of us kept going with amused smiles on our faces.
I noticed Millard was walking a little behind the rest of the group, so I slowed my pace and fell into step next to him. "Hey, uh, Millard?" I began, "I'm sorry about that argument earlier. Really, it's super cool that you're writing a book."
"I suppose it is," he said curtly, and even though I could tell he probably didn't want to talk - especially not with me - I continued speaking.
"So, what's it about?"
"Well, I'm intending to write the world's first complete account of a day in the life of a single town, written from the point of view of each individual in it. Every word, every breath, every blink - I've been documenting it all." I couldn't help but notice the small, proud smile growing on his face, and in the shrinking light from the sun, I noticed for the first time that he was really quite attractive.
"And just how many points of view are there?" I inquired, walking a little closer to him until our hands bumped together and I stepped away once more.
Millard hardly seemed fazed. "Well, there are one hundred fifty-nine human inhabitants, and three hundred thirty-two animals of varying species. Though some days may be tedious, I find the whole thing quite fascinating, really."
I was about to respond, but Jacob spoke up. I hadn't even realized how far we'd gone - or that he and Emma had returned to the group. "Hey, it's getting kind late. We should be heading back now."
"Oh, I should at least escort you," Emma said in response, hardly missing a beat. There were no objections, so we all waved goodbye as Jacob, Emma, and I walked away from the group and toward the cairn.
I walked ahead of the two budding lovebirds, leaving them room to speak alone. Besides, I remembered how to get to the cairn on my own. The idea of Jacob and Emma was.. disturbing to me, to say the least. I mean, sure, they were cute, and I wasn't jealous - please, Jacob was like my brother! No, it was the fact that she dated his grandpa. She was, in theory, old enough to be his - or my - grandmother. It was a little more than awkward to think about.
I crossed over long before Jacob and Emma but decided I'd wait for Jake. After five minutes, I left without him. Damn, whatever they were talking about must've been quite important. Or maybe they were just making out to an excessive extent.
When I arrived back in town, I was immediately ambushed by three men. "Where's your friend?" one asked harshly.
"Yeah, and where've you been all day?"
"W-what do you mean? We've been hiking. Jake's still out in the forest. Y'know, taking pictures and whatnot. Why?" I had the alibi memorized by the time I reached the loop that morning.
"A likely story," the third man said. "Go get him. We've got some questions for the both of you."
I turned back was about to head back into the woods when I saw Jake emerge from the trees. I ran toward him a bit, waving my arms and shouting. "Jake!" I called. "Jacob! C'mere!" He saw me, then probably the three men behind me, before he broke into a quick jog, reaching us in a matter of a couple minutes.
"What is it Kal?" he asked me, then looked at the three men. "Who are you?"
"Never mind that. You two are comin' with us," the first man said, then grabbed my arm while one of the other men took hold of Jacob. They took us across town and toward what looked like a farm. My suspicions were correct when I saw a sheep pen. Though, there was a lot more blood than I expected. I felt the bile rise in my throat, but I swallowed it down and looked away before I threw up. There was another kid there, a sixteen-year-old boy, held by the shirt collar by one of the farmers.
"There they are!" He called, pointing in our direction. Another farmer, one with a threatening looking pitchfork, approached us quickly with big, galumphing footsteps.
"Where's you two been?" he asked, giving Jake and me the stink-eye.
Jacob looked at me with worry. I repeated what I said the first time, hoping Jake would go along with my story. "Like I told these guys, we were hiking, exploring the forest and all that." Jake nodded, and I hoped to god that this guy liked our story, or else I could see a pitchfork impaling me in the near future.
"Sure you were. I bet you were with this guy, killing my sheep!" I laughed at the accusation.
"Are you kidding me? Just seeing blood makes me want to puke!" I wasn't the only one who protested, though, 'cause the boy - still in the other farmer's grasp - did so as well. "Besides, I've never seen him in my life," I said, gesturing towards the kid.
The farmer with the pitchfork looked between the three of us kids before turning back to Jake and me with a grim smile on his face. "Alright, I'll let you off this time. But if this sort of thing happens again and you don't have a good alibi, I'll be blamin' you two."
"Wait-" Jacob finally spoke. "How many sheep were killed?" he asked. One of the men who escorted us there was the one to reply.
"Five, all mine. Murdered right in their pen, they were."
I gave him a small, sad smile before Jacob continued speaking. "Well, that many sheep must have a whole lot of blood. Wouldn't the murderer be covered in it?" All the men were silent for a moment before they began nodding.
"Fair point," the one with the pitchfork said. He nodded to the two men holding Jake and me, and they let go. "You two can head back home now. You're off the hook. For now." I finally breathed a sigh of relief, glad that I was walking away with Jacob rather than laying on the ground with three new, pitchfork-prong sized holes through my chest.
When we finally made it back to the Priest Hole, Jacob went and took a shower while I had a nice, warm bowl of soup to relax after what we'd just been through. I was surprised I was still able to eat, seeing as I'd just seen a shit ton of blood, but I was hungry. It's been too long since lunch. Our roles reversed and I took a long shower and brushed my teeth before Jake and I both headed off to bed.
As I was drifting off to sleep, I saw the little glow of Jacob's phone screen coming through the doorway and heard a delighted sigh. What had I missed? I'd have to ask at breakfast, because right then, all I wanted to do was shut my eyes and sleep. So I did.