Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children - BOOCarz

and gross that I finally had to sit up just to rescue
myself.
“Well, look who’s up!” the girl said. She clapped her
hands, giving me a sarcastic round of applause. “That
was quite the performance you gave earlier. I
particularly enjoyed the fainting. I’m sure the theater
lost a fine actor when you chose to devote yourself
instead to murder and cannibalism.”
I opened my mouth to protest my innocence—and
stopped when I noticed a cup floating toward me.
“Have some water,” the young man said. “Can’t
have you dying before we get you back to the
headmistress, now can we?”
His voice seemed to come from the empty air. I
reached for the cup, and as my pinky brushed an
unseen hand, I nearly dropped it.
“He’s clumsy,” the young man said.
“You’re invisible,” I replied dumbly.
“Indeed. Millard Nullings, at your service.”
“Don’t tell him your name!” the girl cried.
“And this is Emma,” he continued. “She’s a bit
paranoid, as I’m sure you’ve gathered.”
Emma glared at him—or at the space I imagined
him to occupy—but said nothing. The cup shook in my
hand. I began another fumbling attempt to explain
myself but was interrupted by angry voices from
outside the window.
“Quiet!” Emma hissed. Millard’s footsteps moved to
the window, and the blinds parted an inch.
“What’s happening?” asked Emma.
“They’re searching the houses,” he replied. “We
can’t stay here much longer.”
“Well, we can’t very well go out there!”
“I think perhaps we can,” he said. “Just to be
certain, though, let me consult my book.” The blinds
fell closed again and I saw a small leather-bound
notebook rise from a table and crack open in midair.