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

Chapter 3~Infinite

The Priest Hole was clambering with fishermen having an after hours drink, an indisputable scent of fish and beer wafting through the enclosed space. Jacob had made his way through the crowd to his dad who was sitting at the back of the room, and I arrived behind the bar, a busy Kev serving beers beside me.

"Well?" Kev dragged teasingly, a mug of foaming beer filling the glass in his hand.

"What?" I said, feigning ignorance.

"Your date."

I dropped the apron in my hand. "Kev!" I cried, surprised he even considered it like that.

He only chuckled in response, a few other fishermen at the bar who overheard joining in.

"It's alright, lassy," said one after downing a beer.

"There ain't no shame in stealing a few hearts, once in a while," the other said with a wink.

"Especially when you're young," another added, earning a hearty shoulder punch from the last.

I groaned, rubbing my eyes in annoyance. "It's not like that . . . "

"Suuure," every collectively answered.

Great.

Just as I was about to respond, a chair scrapped against the hollow wood loud enough for me to hear over the bustling conversations. It was Jacob who stood from his seat, slinging his jacket over his shoulder, and marched out the door, swinging it hard. As he turned to the exit, I caught his face irritated and fuming in anger, which is never a good sign. And so, I raced after him, slipping off my apron and leaving it on the bar table as the men there cheered me on.

"Go get 'em, lass!"

"Make sure you give him a big ol' smooch from uncle Arny!"

"Aye, I'm the only uncle 'round here!" I heard Kev shout just before I left.

Jacob was walking toward the harbour, the dim light of the moon showering his back.

"Jacob!" I called "Jacob! Jacob, wait!"

He turned around swiftly, the expression I saw before still resting on his face before changing into a blank one. "Oh, hey. What're you doing here? Shouldn't you be helping out Kev?"

"I'm helping out you. Now come on, Martin might not still be around." I gripped his wrist, pulling it the opposite direction of the harbour, and further down town. 

"Whoa, wait. Who's Martin?"

"My friend from the museum!"

Soon, we neared the building, a few lights still on inside. Thank goodness. We entered the renovated church, and I looked toward the desk, expecting to see the top of a man's head above a stack of papers. But the desk was empty save for a coffee filled mug with the phrase "#1 Museum Curator" painted on the side - a gift I had given to him the year before.

He should be around here somewhere," I said. We entered the exhibits passing photographs, rusty ancient objects, and little information boards with an explanation for each. I'd seen this all before and passed by without taking a look, but Jacob peered at each photo and read at least a sentence of each blurb.