Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children - BOOCarz

get all high an’ mighty with me, mate. Because if we
didn’t raid the damned village once in a while, most of
this lot woulda gone off their heads ages ago.” He
went to the door and put his hand on the knob and
then turned back to face me. “And if you think we’re
wicked, wait’ll you see them.”
“Them who? What the hell is everyone talking
about?”
He held up one finger to shush me, then went out.
I was alone again. My eyes were drawn to the body
on the bed. What happened to you, Victor?
Maybe he’d gone crazy and killed himself, I thought
—gotten so sick of this cheerful but futureless eternity
that he’d guzzled rat poison or taken a dive off a cliff.
Or maybe it was them, those “other dangers” Miss
Peregrine had alluded to.
I stepped into the hall and had just started toward
the stairs when I heard Miss Peregrine’s voice behind
a half-closed door. I dove into the nearest room, and
stayed hidden until she’d limped past me and down
the stairs. Then I noticed a pair of boots at the front of
a crisply made bed—Emma’s boots. I was in her
bedroom.
Along one wall was a chest of drawers and a
mirror, on the other a writing desk with a chair tucked
underneath. It was the room of a neat girl with nothing
to hide, or so it seemed until I found a hatbox just
inside the closet. It was tied up with string, and in
grease pencil across the front was written