Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children - BOOCarz

holes in the clouds. The concussions came less
frequently. The attack seemed to be ending.
The children started to leave. I thought we were
going back inside, but they passed the front door and
headed for another part of the yard.
“Where are we going?” I asked two masked kids.
They said nothing, but seeming to sense my
anxiety, they took me gently by the hands and led me
along with the others. We rounded the house to the
back corner, where everyone was gathering around a
giant topiary. This one wasn’t a mythical creature,
though, but a man reposing in the grass, one arm
supporting him, the other pointing to the sky. It took a
moment before I realized that it was a leafy replica of
Michelangelo’s fresco of Adam from the Sistine
Chapel. Considering that it was made from bushes, it
was really impressive. You could almost make out the
placid expression on Adam’s face, which had two
blooming gardenias for eyes.
I saw the wild-haired girl standing nearby. She wore
a flower-print dress that had been patched so many
times it almost looked like a quilt. I went over to her
and, pointing to Adam, said, “Did you make this?”
The girl nodded.
“How?”
She bent down and held one of her palms above
the grass. A few seconds later, a hand-shaped
section of blades wriggled and stretched and grew
until they were brushing the bottom of her palm.
“That,” I said, “is crazy.” Clearly, I was not at my
most articulate.
Someone shushed me. The children were all
standing silently with their necks craned, pointing at a
section of sky. I looked up but could see only clouds of
smoke, the flickering orange of fires reflected against
them.
Then I heard a single airplane engine cut through