A Map of Days (Miss Peregrine's Peculiar Children, #4)(120)

I was angry, too. Which is why I couldn’t come up with anything more articulate to say than “Well, that sucks.”

Bronwyn gasped. No one spoke to Miss Peregrine that way.

Miss Peregrine took a step forward. Leaned over me in my bed. “Yes, Mr. Portman, it sucks. But deciding between choices that suck is precisely why being a leader can suck. Which is precisely the reason we don’t, and will never, involve children in high-level leadership decisions.” She said the word children so pointedly, it felt like she was throwing it in our faces.

I saw Emma’s brow furrow. “Miss Peregrine?” she said.

Miss Peregrine turned sharply to face her, as if daring her to speak. “What is it, Miss Bloom?”

“We aren’t children anymore.”

“Yes,” she said, “you are. You have proven that today.” And she turned on her heel and stalked out of the room.

Miss Peregrine left a stunned silence in her wake. When the sound of her footfalls leaving the house had faded, my friends found their voices.

“You’re such an ass, Portman,” said Enoch. “You made her even madder. Rambling on about that girl!”

“If one of you were still in that loop, we’d all be worried,” I said. “Why shouldn’t we worry about her?”

“It’s none of our concern,” Bronwyn mumbled. “Like Miss P said.”

“They’re not going to kill her or anything,” said Enoch. “She’s got to be safer with Leo’s people than she was hiding from helicopters in some abandoned building.”

“We don’t know that!” I said. “The mission was to get her to a safe loop, not just drop her off wherever—”

“Forget the bloody mission!” Emma exploded. “There is no mission anymore! Mission over! Mission stupid to begin with!”

“Agreed, agreed, agreed,” said Bronwyn. “We should just forget it ever happened and hope the ymbyrnes forgive us.”

“It was partly their fault!” I said. “None of this would have happened if they had just told us what was going on. I didn’t know they were forging some peace accord . . .”

“Don’t try and pin this on the ymbrynes,” Bronwyn said.

“They treat us like idiots!” I said. “You all said it yourselves!”

“I don’t know about you,” said Bronwyn, “but after seeing how the Americans live, I’m glad we have ymbrynes, and I’m never going to complain about them again. So if that’s what we’re doing right now, please count me out.”

“I’m not complaining, I’m just saying—”

“We’re not their equals, Jacob. And you aren’t, either. I mean, it’s really great what you did for everybody in the Library of Souls, but just because you’re a famous hero and people want your autograph doesn’t mean you’re as important as an ymbryne.”

“I never said I was.”

“Well, you’re acting like you are. So if Miss Peregrine wants to keep a secret from you, I’m sure there’s a good reason, and that’s the end of it.”

Bronwyn turned and went out, leaving another silence behind her.

“What about the rest of you?”I said.

“What about us, what?” Emma said sourly.

“What happened to being independent? Making our own decisions? Is that all out the window now that Miss P is pissed at us?”

“Don’t be purposely thick,” said Enoch. “We could have started a war.”

“Miss Peregrine has every right to be furious with us,” said Emma.

“I agree that we are often treated like children,” said Millard. “But we picked a bad time to assert our independence.”

“We couldn’t have known that,” I said. “But just because we made one mistake doesn’t mean we should give up completely.”

“Yes, it does,” said Enoch. “In this case, it does. I’m going to put my head down, sweep some chimneys, and hope things go back to normal soon.”

“What a heroic sentiment,” I said.

Enoch laughed, but I could tell I’d hurt him. He came up to my bed, pulled some wilted daisies from his pocket, and tossed them onto my blanket. “You’re no hero, either,” he said. “You’re not Abe Portman and you’re never going to be. So why don’t you just stop trying.” And he walked out.

I felt frozen. I didn’t know what to say.

“I’d better be going, too,” Millard mumbled. “I don’t want the headmistress to think we’re . . .”

I couldn’t hear the rest of what he said.

“What? Conspiring?”

“Something like that,” he said.

“What about the others? Are they coming to see me?” I hadn’t seen Horace, Hugh, Olive, or Claire since we’d left on the mission, which felt like a lifetime ago.

“I don’t think so,” said Millard. “See you later, Jacob.”

I didn’t like how this was ending. I could feel a line being drawn, with me on one side, and everyone else on the other.

Millard left, his coat and pants floating out the door. And now I was alone with Emma—and she was moving toward the exit, too.