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"OW, FUCK!"
Bronwyn's eyes widened slightly, her badly-faked smile wavering. She turned her head and leaned into the kitchen to survey the damage, giving Miss Peregrine a glimpse of a flour-covered counter and a flash of blonde. Before she could get a good look, though, Bronwyn's head snapped back into place, brow beaded with nervous sweat.
"SHH, ENOCH!"
Miss Peregrine folded her arms and cocked a brow, again attempting to peek into what she could only assume was a disaster zone. Bronwyn sidestepped, blocking her view. "I'm sorry, Miss, but you can't go in there."
The Bird stepped back, shooting Bronwyn a pointedly annoyed look. "And just why not, Miss Bruntley? It seems as though something troublesome is going on inside."
Bronwyn shrunk slightly under her Headmistress's gaze, though ultimately she remained steadfast. Miss Peregrine knew that the girl only grew skittish when she lied, which meant she was hiding something. "Nope, nothing out of the ordinary going on in the-"
"SON OF A—GAH, FUCKING HELL!"
"Hush, Enoch, you can't let her hear you!"
"I'm sorry, Horace, but if you couldn't tell, the oven just tried to ATTACK ME!"
A tense silence filled the air before a loud crash sounded from the kitchen.
"...Are you positive I can't go in, Miss Bruntley?"
The girl tensed, looking around frantically for a way to escape the situation. "Um- Enoch and Horace made a bit of a mess." She half-chuckled-half-coughed awkwardly. "I'm making them clean it all up?" The inflection of her voice turned her statement into a question.
Miss Peregrine was not the least bit convinced. "Did they now?"
A nod from the girl. "Yes, Miss."
"That's no reason for me to stay out here."
Miss Peregrine tried to sidestep into the kitchen, only to be blocked by Bronwyn once more. "Your dress!" She blurted suddenly.
"My dress?"
"Yes, Miss! Your dress will get all dirty; er- they haven't cleaned up the floor yet!"
Miss Peregrine hummed, studying Bronwyn's face for a long, agonizing moment. She might as well give her the benefit of the doubt; Bronwyn was one of her most trustworthy wards, after all. "...Very well. I'll leave you to handle things, I trust you're mature enough to set the boys ri-"
"BLOODY HELL!"
Annoyed at the interruption, the Bird cleared her throat. "-Right."
Bronwyn gave her a quick, curt nod, smile returning. "Of course, Miss."
As Miss Peregrine turned to leave and started on the way to her study, her astute hearing picked up a rather disgruntled Bronwyn barking into the kitchen: "ENOCH! LANGUAGE!"
Miss Peregrine glanced out the window, watching as Olive steadily rose into the air, shoes abandoned in the grass far below. Her hand shot out and grabbed a tree branch, seemingly retrieving something from it as Emma shouted up orders from the ground.
"A little higher!"
"Like this?"
"Yes, yes! Perfect! Now, to the left-"
Miss Peregrine looked back to Hugh, who stood between her and the back door. Children blocking her out of things seemed to be today's theme, as annoying as it was.
"So I'm not allowed to help with...whatever they're doing?"
Hugh shook his head. "No, Miss. M'sorry. I'm sure Olive would like to do it herself—she's a big lass, after all." The boy smiled, exposing all of the crooked gaps between his teeth.
Miss Peregrine hummed, leaning to peek out the window a second time. "What are they doing, if I may inquire?"
This earned her a nonchalant shrug. "Getting a ball. We lost it up there earlier."
The Bird squinted. "...Are you positive of your assumption, Mr. Apiston? Because it seems to me that Olive is tying something to the-"
A blustery wind blew past, leaving Olive bobbing in the air like a lost balloon. "Be careful!" Emma shouted up, keeping the steadiest hold she could around the girl's tether. Miss Peregrine's maternal instincts flared, and she squawked in worried surprise.
"Goodness! Olive knows the winds increase at 2:15; she shouldn't be up there like that!"
Hugh huffed, and in an instant, honeybees began to zoom around Miss Peregrine. One after the other, in twos and fours and sixes, they all landed on the windowpane to create a crawling, swirling mass. They effectively blotted out the girls outside, muffling any noise they might have made into nonexistence. Hugh took Miss Peregrine by the shoulders, gently spinning her around and leading her away.
"Don't worry, Miss. I swear to you from the bottom of my heart, everything is all taken care of."
Olive was fine. So was Enoch. There was nothing for her to worry about; Alma had known all of her wards for years and would’ve trusted each and every one of them with her life, if needed be.
She was reclined in her favorite armchair, a novel she'd read half a million times in her lap as she watched a stray clay soldier teeter-totter its way across the parlor carpet. She tried to navigate the muddled sea of her thoughts: there was positively nothing for her to worry about...and yet, her instincts told her that everything was not right. Something was off. She couldn't exactly pinpoint what, but something was most definitely off.
Already on edge, Miss Peregrine's head snapped up at the creak of a floorboard, her ice-cold gaze freezing Millard in his tracks. He was nude (of course), and...
Carrying the record player?
"And where do you think you're going with that, Mr. Nullings?"
Miss Peregrine intently listened as the boy swallowed thickly, shifting his weight from foot to foot. A falcon's ear was incredibly useful for determining the place and actions of an invisible—that, and Millard was highly predictable.
"To Olive's room, Miss. She asked me to bring it to her because..." he paused, shifting his weight again. "...Because she's playing ballet studio with her dolls. Everyone knows a dancer is only as good as their music."
Miss Peregrine blankly stared Millard down. His lie was as transparent as his own skin.
"Olive was outside with Emma five minutes ago."
Miss Peregrine listened to Millard wet his lips, something she knew he did when he was nervous.
"Yes, well...that was five minutes ago. She's inside now, and wants to play dolls."
Miss Peregrine slowly turned back to her book, eyes not leaving Millard until the last possible second. "Very well. Please refrain from breaking anything."
Millard nodded, evident by the sound of his hair brushing against his shoulders. "Thank you, Miss. I'll have it back soon." Miss Peregrine listened as his footsteps grew more and more distant, eventually fading away.
"Miss Peregrine? Miss Peregrine?"
Miss Peregrine was gently shaken awake by little hands attached to a slightly less little body belonging to none other than Claire Densmore, her youngest ward. Miss Peregrine blinked, realizing she must have fallen asleep in her chair a bit after Millard had left. She sat up, politely covering her mouth as she yawned.
"Good afternoon, Miss Densmore. Is there something I could help you with?"
Claire's curls bounced as she nodded, taking her Headmistress's hand and gently pulling. "Come and play tea party with me! Everyone else is busy, and I need someone to fill in my last empty seat."
Miss Peregrine chuckled, standing. "Come and play tea party with me..."
"Please," Claire finished, growing impatient as she tugged on the Bird's sleeve. "Come and play tea party with me please."
"Oh, I suppose my schedule is free enough to allow it. But only since you asked so nicely."
Claire beamed, pulling a smiling Miss Peregrine forward by the hand. "We have to hurry or we'll be late! Mr. Bear-nard can only wait so long before he starts tossing biscuits everywhere!"
Claire slowed to accommodate Miss Peregrine's limp as they ascended the stairs, pausing at the top before pulling Miss Peregrine to the right, in the direction of the Headmistress's own bedroom.
"Isn't the play room the other way, Miss Densmore?"
Claire looked back over her shoulder, flashing Miss Peregrine a cheeky smile, dimples pricking her freckled cheeks. "Of course, I know that! But do you know what you need before a fancy tea party?"
"What do I need?"
"A fancy dress!"
"Miss Nancy wants you to close your eyes."
Miss Peregrine cocked a brow with a small smile, porcelain teacup paused halfway through the journey up to her lips. She brought it back down to the saucer on the table, resting her hands in her lap. She was wearing Claire's favorite dress of hers; a soft, baby blue fabric dotted with little white flowers and lined with thick lace. It was certainly a change from her usual dark colors, though it wasn't unwelcome.
"Why, if I may ask?"
Claire smiled, sipping her 'tea'. "Because she wants me to show you your surprise."
That caught Miss Peregrine off guard. "A surprise? For me?"
Claire nodded.
"Well, I suppose I have no choice but to close my eyes."
"And stand up. Please."
Miss Peregrine did as told, and soon she felt a little hand taking hold of her own. For a second time that say she was gently lead along, Claire giving her a warning before they descended the stairs once more.
"May I open my eyes now, Miss Densmore?"
Miss Peregrine could hear the smile Claire's voice as she responded, "No, Miss. Not yet."
The pair rounded a corner. From the sound of their shoes on the floorboards, Miss Peregrine guessed they were in the hall leading to the back door. "Now?"
Claire giggled. "No, Miss Peregrine! Just wait!"
The sound of a screen door opening filled Miss Peregrine's ears, and soon there was the soft crunch of grass beneath their feet. The warmth of the setting summer sun hit Miss Peregrine's cheeks, and by the sound of the breathing around her, she knew that she and Claire weren't the only ones outside. Beyond that, there was gentle music playing from what could only be their record player.
"You can open your eyes now!"
Miss Peregrine opened her eyes, greeted by all of her wards gathered around a long table piled high with gifts and snacks. Lights were strung in the trees around them, along with a white banner painted in blue with the words: 'HAPpY BiRTHDAY!!'
"SURPRISE!"
Miss Peregrine blinked. Turning the words of the banner over in her head once or twice, she came to realize why her wards had been acting so strange: it was her birthday, and she'd completely forgotten!
She felt herself smiling wide at her children, the same elated expression mirrored in each of their faces. Enoch and Horace were rather dirty, she noted, as Abe stepped forward to lead her to a folding chair at the end of the table. "Come. Sit. Tired, yes?"
Miss Peregrine nodded. "Thank you, Mr. Portman. How very considerate of you."
Emma gently nudged her way through the gathered gaggle of peculiars. "Now it's time for your gifts!"
"Gifts?"
"Of course we got you gifts, Miss P!" Hugh exclaims. "Here, we'll go ahead and bring them to you."
Miss Peregrine watched as a murmur of excitement passed amongst her wards. As a group, they ran back to the far end of the table to retrieve their gifts, then—as patiently as they could—lined up in front of their headmistress.
First up was Hugh and Fiona. The pair stepped forward, Fiona draping a flower necklace over Miss Peregrine's shoulders as a squadron of Hugh's bees airlifted a matching flower crown onto her head. "We made them ourselves," Hugh said, taking Fiona's hand. "They're your favorite flowers and plants. Mint, lavender, baby's breath, and dandelions."
"How'd you know those were my favorites?" Miss Peregrine asks, adjusting her new crown.
Hugh smiled cheekily. "Secret." Fiona caught Miss Peregrine's eye, letting her know all she needed to know with a glance: spy bees. Of course.
Miss Peregrine thanked them, and the pair stepped aside, hand in hand.
Up next was Olive, Bronwyn, and Claire. A collection of drawings and messy paintings all bound with twine was slid into Miss Peregrine's lap. "We did them all ourselves!" Olive proclaimed, gleaming with pride.
"We drew you, and our house, and everyone in our loop family!" Claire tacked on.
"They really did a fantastic job, Miss. Worked very hard," Bronwyn said with a smile, to which Olive stamped her foot. Bronwyn crouched down to the girl's height to look her in the eye. "What's wrong, little magpie? Are we forgetting something?"
Olive nodded enthusiastically, blowing the resulting stray curl from her face. "Tell Miss Peregrine what you did, Wynnie!"
Bronwyn flushed, standing up straight. "Oh, alright. I tried my hand at drawing a few of the things in that booklet. I'm no artist, but I thought that I'd give it a shot."
"Plus she tied the twine!" Claire finished.
Miss Peregrine thanked them with a smile, and the two little ones dragged Bronwyn away.
After them stepped in Horace, presenting Miss Peregrine with a folded crochet shawl in varying shades of blue, complete with tassels. "This pattern took forever to complete," Horace confessed. "I had to do it and redo it all over again about three or four times because it was so complex."
Miss Peregrine ran her hand over the surface, examining the shawl with great interest. "...This material doesn't look like any of the spools of yarn I've given you, Mr. Somnusson."
Horace smiled humbly, toeing the ground. "Millard brought me some yarn from in town. I dyed most of it myself."
The woman chortled slightly. "Next time, dear, please refrain from asking Millard to steal for you. I appreciate the sentiment, but you do not need to go such lengths for me."
"Of course, Miss."
Miss Peregrine smiled warmly up at the boy, draping the shawl around her shoulders with a thank-you.
Millard shuffled forward (in clothes now, thank goodness), elatedly dropping a little notebook into the woman's lap. She opened it, slowly turning the pages and examining the notes, sketches, and feather samples on each one.
"It's an encyclopedia of the birds of Cairnholm," Millard explained. "I'm not usually one for ornithology, but I thought you'd enjoy it."
Miss Peregrine gently ran her hand along a particular page detailing a sparrow of some kind or another. "...How long did this project take to complete?"
"Hm, let's see..." Millard hummed, tapping his chin. "Four or five months, I believe. Though it isn't my most detailed work."
Miss Peregrine reached up to gently pinch Millard's cheek, thanking him for his gift and the time put into it.
Abe stepped up with Emma flouncing along beside him, their arms linked together. They handed Miss Peregrine a small photo album. "It may look ickle," Emma explained, "but it's positively filled to the brim with candids and portraits alike."
"I put together. Got hand stuck," Abe added with a playful grin. Emma snorted.
"He could hardly paste the photos in without making a disastrous mess."
Miss Peregrine opened the album to peer inside, greeted by an array of different photos: a candid of one of Enoch's rare smiles; Hugh, Horace, and Claire making silly faces at the camera; Fiona in Hugh's clothes posing with Emma in Abe's; a candid of Victor carrying Olive on his shoulders...
Miss Peregrine closed the album, setting it atop Millard's bird encyclopedia on her lap. She thanked the pair and they stepped aside, giggling and poking at each other playfully.
Enoch shuffled forward, pulling a small whittled sculpture from his pocket and presenting it to Miss Peregrine. It was undoubtedly a Peregrine falcon, though the tail was slightly short and the eyes were uneven.
"I tried to do it from memory, but that was bloody hard, so it kind of looks like rubbish. Sorry."
Miss Peregrine sets the sculpture on top of her little stack of books, smiling up at Enoch. "I think it's lovely, Mr. O'Connor. It's going to go right on my nightstand, where I can see it all the time. Thank you very much."
Enoch flushes with pride, smiling slightly as he makes way for the final person in line: Victor.
The boy kicked at the ground with fists stuffed in his pockets, head downcast and long hair in his face. He looked embarrassed, ashamed.
"Mr. Bruntley? Is something the matter?"
Victor shrugged, shrinking into himself and muttering something.
"Care to speak up?"
"I said that my gift is shit and that you're better off without it."
Miss Peregrine frowned, electing to ignore the boy's profanity lest she make him feel even worse. "Now why would you say that, dear? I'm sure that your gift is just as wonderful and unique as the others."
"But it ain't," Victor replied, brow furrowed. "I'm no good at nothin'. I ain't an artist like Mill or Olive and I ain't funny like Em or talented like Horace. My gift's stupid like me, and that's that."
"Oh, Victor, you shouldn't say that," Bronwyn said, reaching forward to gently touch his arm. He pushed her hand away, pulling something out of his pocket and balling it up in his fist.
"Victor."
The boy looked up to meet Miss Peregrine's gaze. The woman held out her hands expectantly. "Whatever your gift may be, I'll adore it because it came from you. I love you very much, I hope you know."
Victor eyes widened. He blinked, opening and closing his mouth with a clack before outstretching his arm and dropping his present into Miss Peregrine's palms.
The gift was a dull, smooth, unpolished piece of sea glass with a hole drilled into one end. It had been strung through with a piece of thick twine, creating a large loop tied with a knot. It was a necklace.
Miss Peregrine grinned warmly, looking up to Victor. "It's kinda bluish, so it reminded me of you," he started. "I know it ain't all pretty, but...yeah."
"I love it, Mr. Bruntley." Miss Peregrine put it on herself, admiring how it shone in the sun for a moment. Fittingly, it matched shades of blue with her dress. "I think I'll wear it to my next meeting with the Ymbryne Council."
Victor looked awestruck. "I...thank you."
"I should be the one thanking you for such a lovely gift, Mr. Bruntley."
Miss Peregrine looked around at all of her children, regarding them each with a bright smile. "Thank you all for such amazing gifts. I'll cherish them for as long as I live."
"Actually, we did make you one more thing," Victor said, finally allowing himself to smile as well.
"Ciasto! Er- cake!" Abe exclaimed, beaming.
The group parted, making way for Enoch and Horace carrying a lopsided birthday cake. The boys, each dusted thoroughly with what Miss Peregrine now realized was flour and sugar, set the cake down on the table in front of her. It was lined in wax candles and frosted rather oddly, one half near-professional and the other half sloppy and messy, blue food coloring leaking down onto the plate it sat upon. She could tell which boy did what part with ease.
"Did you boys make this all by yourselves?"
Horace nodded. "Enoch burned himself quite a lot, but we got it done." Horace reached over to grab Enoch's wrist, displaying the myriad of band-aids plastered on his palms and around his fingers. Enoch rolled his eyes, tugging his hand away.
"Enoch, dear?"
Enoch hummed.
"Lean down a moment."
Enoch did so, and Miss Peregrine licked her thumb before taking his face and gently scrubbing away a swath of frosting smeared across his cheek. "...There. You had something on your face."
Enoch flushed at the affection, wiping his cheek with his sleeve. "Thank you," he muttered, gaze downcast.
Emma set her pointer finger ablaze, leaning down to light the candles. "Everyone, on the count of three: one, two, three!"
"Happy Birthday to you!"
"Happy Birthday to you!"
"Happy Birthday, Miss Peregrine!"
"Happy Birthday to you!"
As Miss Peregrine blew out the candles to the cheers of her children, she couldn't help but think that she had everything she could ever wish for.