Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children - BOOCarz

have any ‘game’ to ‘horn in’ on, I can assure you of
that. He’s a jealous fool and a liar.”
“Is he?”
“Is he which?”
“A liar.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Why? What kind of
nonsense has he been spouting?”
“Emma, what happened to Victor?”
She looked shocked. Then, shaking her head, she
muttered, “Damn that selfish boy.”
“There’s something no one here is telling me, and I
want to know what it is.”
“I can’t,” she said.
“That’s all I’ve been hearing! I can’t talk about the
future. You can’t talk about the past. Miss Peregrine
has us all tied up in knots. My grandfather’s last wish
was for me to come here and find out the truth.
Doesn’t that mean anything?”
She took my hand and brought it into her lap and
looked down at it. She seemed to be searching for
the right words. “You’re right,” she said finally. “There
is something.”
“Tell me.”
“Not here,” she whispered. “Tonight.”
We arranged to meet late that night, when my dad
and Miss Peregrine would be asleep. Emma insisted
it was the only way, because the walls had ears and it
was impossible to slip off together during the day
without arousing suspicion. To complete the illusion
that we had nothing to hide, we spent the rest of the
afternoon hanging out in the yard in full view of
everyone, and when the sun began to set I walked
back to the bog alone.
* * *
It was another rainy evening in the twenty-first