Discovering the Future

Chapter 31- Chapter 11 (Part 2)

Disclaimer: I don't own Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children.

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"I'm going to ask you a simple, straightforward question," he said, "and I'd like a simple, straightforward answer. Where were you last night?" I could tell he was struggling to maintain his composure.

I decided I was done lying. "I'm fine, Dad. I was with my friends."

It was like I'd pulled the pin on a grenade.

"YOUR FRIENDS ARE IMAGINARY!" he shouted. He came toward me, his face turning red.

"Calm down there, buddy," Hugh said.

"I wish your mother and I had never let that crackpot therapist talk us into bringing you out here, because it has been an unmitigated disaster! You just lied to me for the last time! Now get in your room and start packing. We're on the next ferry!"

"Dad?"

"And when we get home, you're not leaving the house until we find a psychiatrist who's not a complete jackass!"

"Someone had a rough night," Enoch said.

"Dad!"

I wondered for a moment if I would have to run from him. I pictured my dad holding me down, calling for help, loading me onto the ferry with my arms locked in a straitjacket.

"I'm not coming with you," I said.

His eyes narrowed and he cocked his head, as if he hasn't heard properly. I was about to repeat myself when there was a knock at the door.

"That was convenient," Millard said.

"Go away!" my dad shouted.

The knock came again, more insistent this time. He stormed over and flung it open, and there at the top of the stairs stood Emma, a tiny ball of blue flame dancing above her hand. Next to her was Olive.

"That will terrify him," Bronwyn said.

"No, I think he's too out of it," Victor countered.

"Hullo," Olive said. "We're here to see Jacob."

He stared at them, baffled. "What is this..."

The girls edged past him into the room.

"What are you doing here?" I hissed at them.

"We only wanted to introduce ourselves," Emma replied, flashing a big smile at my dad. "We've come to know your son rather well of late, so we thought it only proper that we should pay a friendly call."

Fiona smiled. "Of course you did."

"Okay," my father said, his eyes darting between them.

"He's really a fine boy," said Olive. "So brave!"

"And handsome!" Emma added, winking at me. She began to roll the flame between her hands like a toy. My father stared at it, hypnotised.

"Y-yes," he stammered. "He sure is."

"At least he recognises his sons good looks," Hugh said.