Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children - BOOCarz

your distance, okay?”
He looked at me strangely. “Why?”
“He just rubs me the wrong way. What if he’s some
nutcase? What if he’s the one who killed those
sheep?”
“Where do you get these bizarre ideas?”
I wanted to tell him. I wanted to explain everything,
and for him to tell me he understood and offer some
tidbit of parental advice. I wanted, in that moment, for
everything to go back to the way it had been before
we came here; before I ever found that letter from
Miss Peregrine, back when I was just a sort-of-normal
messed-up rich kid in the suburbs. Instead, I sat next
to my dad for awhile and talked about nothing, and I
tried to remember what my life had been like in that
unfathomably distant era that was four weeks ago, or
imagine what it might be like four weeks from now—
but I couldn’t. Eventually we ran out of nothing to talk
about, and I excused myself and went upstairs to be
alone.