The Aftermath: MPHFPC (editing)

O N E

J A C O B

"Jacob!" Said a familiar voice. I couldn't help the small smile that formed on my face from her voice, even though it was late at night and I never particularly enjoyed being woken up. I sat up on my elbows and looked at Emma, who was still wide awake, a smile painted on her porcelain face.

"Em," I said quietly, rubbing my eyes, "this is the third time you have come in here in the middle of the night to wake me up."

It had been three weeks since we made it back and my friends and Miss Peregrine had come to Florida, although it was still undetermined how long they would stay. During that time, my fellow peculiars have been somewhat adjusting to the twenty-first century.

I have made at least ten trips to the mall, since I'm the only one that can drive a car, mostly for Horace, who demands that he must be in fashion.

All of them are absolutely fascinated by technology. Which included my laptop, which I hadn't seen in days. But it's pretty comical to watch Enoch and Hugh gathered around it, poking at it and trying to figure out how to open it.

"Bloody hell, mate, it's lighting up." Enoch had said, narrowing his eyes at the screen.

"Must be some kind of bomb," Hugh muttered back, scratching his chin.

Miss Peregrine had even managed to get most of them phones. "You mean to tell me I can talk to anyone, anywhere, anytime, anyplace?" Bronwyn asked me one day, absolutely awestruck, staring at the foreign object.

Emma's didn't last very long. She told me that she was just having a casual conversation with Bronwyn when she looked down and the whole thing had just melted in her hand. Long story short, she isn't getting a new one anytime soon.

I assumed that Miss Peregrine felt obligated to make the others enjoy the present, especially after all those years of them talking about it and wishing they could live in modern day. Miss Peregrine seemed to have the money, anyways. But how one woman coming from 1940 can give eight teenagers a closet full of clothes and new phones is beyond me. But in the last few months, a lot of things have surprised me, so I've learned to just go with it.

"I was on my machine thingy-" Said Emma excitedly.

"Your phone?" I corrected quietly, looking over to the bed where Millard was sleeping soundly.

"I was reading about feminism had I saw a study that claimed that female-named hurricanes kill more than male-named hurricanes, although the study questionably claimed it's because people don't respect them."

I buried my head in my pillow, "Em, that's the most fascinating thing I have heard all week. Now, please go back to bed." I mumbled through the pillow.

"But Jacob, there is so much stuff to look up on the worldwide-" Emma started.

"Emma," I said calmly resting my hand atop of her's, "go back to bed, you've spent far too much time on that phone. You need to get some sleep."

"You're right," Emma said, leaning over and kissing me on the cheek. "Goodnight, Jacob."

"More like morning," I muttered, yawning, as she walked out of the room quietly. After that, I feel asleep far easier than normal.

***

My breaths were ragged and shallow. The room was unfamiliar and cold. My eyes landed on the barred window to my left. A huge black tongue was pressed up against it.

It's just a dream, I reminded myself calmly, although my heart was about to leap out of my chest and the familiar pain in my stomach felt very real.