Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children - BOOCarz

days alone in that old house is really what Dr. Golan
had in mind. When he green-lighted this trip.”
“Wow, I think that was the record,” I said.
“What?”
“The longest streak ever of you not mentioning my
psychiatrist.” I pretended to look at a nonexistent
wristwatch. “Four days, five hours, and twenty-six
minutes.” I sighed. “It was good while it lasted.”
“That man has been a great help to you,” he said.
“God only knows the state you’d be in right now if we
hadn’t found him.”
“You’re right, Dad. Dr. Golan did help me. But that
doesn’t mean he has to control every aspect of my
life. I mean, Jesus, you and mom might as well buy
me one of those little bracelets that says What Would
Golan Do? That way I can ask myself before I do
anything. Before I take a dump. How would Dr. Golan
want me to take this dump? Should I bank it off the
side or go straight down the middle? What would be
the most psychologically beneficial dump I could
take?”
Dad didn’t say anything for a few seconds, and
when he did his voice was all low and gravelly. He told
me I was going birding with him the next day whether I
liked it or not. When I replied that he was sadly
mistaken, he got up and went downstairs to the pub. I
thought he’d be drinking or something, so I went to
change out of my clown clothes, but a few minutes
later he knocked on my bedroom door and said there
was someone on the phone for me.
I figured it was Mom, so I gritted my teeth and
followed him downstairs to the phone booth in the far
corner of the pub. He handed me the receiver and
went to sit at a table. I slid the door closed.
“Hello?”
“I just spoke to your father,” a man said. “He
sounded a little upset.”