Book One: Miss Peregrine's Home For Peculiar Children (My Remake)

Chapter 2~The Boy and the House

With the sun streaming past my curtains like a spotlight, it was no surprise I got out of bed so early that morning - or every morning, for that matter. Kev was already awake, flipping chairs off their tables and riffling through the day's newspaper. Once I had changed into work clothes - stained with grease - I was set to prep the kitchen and make breakfast. Kev had just caught me finishing the two plates when he set down another two.

"Better make that for two more, hun."

"Wow, you must be hungry, today." He chuckled.

"That's not it. Don' cha remember that boy and his dad?"

"You promised them breakfast, too?" I chastised, throwing two more slices of bread in the toaster.

"Well, they were willing to pay for it."

After finishing breakfast, Kev went out to run a few errands on the mainland, claiming that he would be back in a few hours. I was told to take care of the small morning rush as well as the two who were sitting in the pub, having breakfast.

"Don't forget to talk to that boy," Kev teased as I shooed him out.

The backdoor creaked as I peeked through to spot the boy and his dad on a far table near the front door. His dad stood up to shake Kev's hand as he made his way out. "Amber will take care of you while I'm gone, which shouldn't take too long. Enjoy breakfast." Then he walked out the door, leaving me alone in the pub with the two residents.

"He seems nice, doesn't he, Jake?"

The boy shrugged. "Sure."

His dad nudged his shoulder. "Come on, lighten up. You're the one who wanted to come here in the first place." The boy simply shrugged once again, then downed the glass of milk sitting next to him. "Here, let's get you some more." His dad picked up his glass, then looked around.

I began to turn red, knowing I needed to serve them as Kev insisted, so I grabbed the pitcher of milk from the fridge, and opened the door. "More milk?" I asked quietly.

"Oh, yes, please." All but the sound of milk filling a cup was silent. "Thank you."

The dad was looking straight up at me with a smile. I took a quick glimpse at the boy who was trying hard to avoid eye contact. His hair was brown and rather thick, strands falling apart on his forehead and eyes where dark circles hung, as if he hadn't slept a good night for a while. He wore a red jacket with a fur collar and blue jeans topped with red sneakers. An emotionless expression sat on his face as he appeared to think deeply into his breakfast. Suddenly, his eyes peeked up at me, and it was then I realized I was staring. As subtle as I could, I bolted to the backdoor, sighing with relief once it closed behind me. Then a thought drifted to the back of my head; he was kinda cute.

As the morning went by, people came in for breakfast, I cooked their food, and bustled tables, an average day for an average girl - on Cairnholm that is. Familiar faces came in and out, but by midday, one caught my eye. It was the boy who rented out the rooms upstairs. He entered the pub, eyes squinting and adjusting to the light.

I watched him carefully, curious as to why he wasn't with his dad. As his eyes peered around the room he stopped at mine and I looked down at the table I was cleaning, hoping he hadn't seen me look. He then slowly walked up to me and in the corner of my eye, he scratched the back of his neck shyly, as if wanting to say something.