Note: Thanks for the comments, Rollerparty! As a reminder:
The next ten or so chapters of this story are very graphic. They involve an extensive amount of corporal punishment/child abuse so please don't read them if it's a trigger or becomes too much. These chapters were written when I was in kind of a crappy place in my life. I took it all out on Dick so they're pretty dark. Because of this, I'm going to leave "From the Ashes" alone for now. All chapters will only be published on "From the Ashes of Disaster" up until the end of Dick's enormous problems. When I reach that point, I will resume posting chapters for both stories.
Basically what I'm trying to say is: if you don't want to read about a very dark time in a ten-year-old's tragic life, don't read "From the Ashes of Disaster". Dick's life will be a little easier in "From the Ashes" but that won't be updated for a while. Thanks.
The next morning:
Dick had spent the night in the hospital. Mr. Makov hadn't come back after going to see Bruce. The boy was sure that his guardian was being arrested or something equally horrible. Mr. Makov probably thought that Bruce had shot Dick. Somehow he would make it seem that way, just like Miss Jameson had tried to blame Bruce for everything. Dick was sure he was never going to see Bruce or Alfred or Wayne Manor again.
The ten-year-old had spent most of the night silently crying. He closed his eyes, pretending to be asleep, anytime a nurse came to check on him. But Dick hadn't slept more than five minutes at various intervals throughout the night.
Suddenly, the curtain swung open and Mr. Makov entered the emergency room cubicle. He was smiling, attempting to put the boy at ease. But Dick wasn't going to fall for his act.
"How are you feeling, son?"
"Not your son," Dick mumbled.
Sighing, Greg said, "Of course, I'm sorry. What can I call you?"
"Dick."
His voice was sullen, like it had been yesterday in Greg's office. The social worker understood some of the reasoning for that now. But Greg still couldn't just let everything go.
"When can I leave?"
"I'm checking you out right now," the man answered, holding up a clipboard with some paperwork on it.
"No, when I can leave you and go back to Bruce?"
"We haven't figured that out yet. There's still a lot I have to investigate."
"What did he say?"
"Who?"
"I know you went to talk to Bruce."
"That's not something I'm going to discuss with you, kiddo."
"Bruce calls me kiddo. You can call me Dick, like I said."
Greg sighed again and shook his head. Susan had been right about one thing – the boy was somewhat rude.
"Alright, Dick, let's go back to my office."
The nurse had been wrapping the boy's shoulder and was now putting it in a sling. Dick inaudibly growled; he didn't need the sling anymore. He wanted freedom of movement. So, as soon as they got in the car, Dick took the restricting material off.
"Dr. Andrews said you need to keep that on," Greg commented when he glanced back.
"I'm fine," Dick grumbled.
Greg decided to pick his battles so he let it go.
"Can we talk about it now?" the boy asked.
"About what?"
"What you said to Bruce?
"I told you we're not going to discuss that."
"Where are we going?"
"Back to my office."
"Are you going to put me in…in the…"
The pause was long and awkward.
"In the what, Dick?" Greg finally inquired.
"The, um, detention…center," the ten-year-old whispered.
"Why? Have you done something wrong?" the man asked, surprised that the boy would even think of something like that.
"No, but Miss Jameson was going to."
"When did she tell you that?!" Greg exclaimed.
"Last year, at the, um, circus."
Dick was still whispering and the man could just barely hear him. This, he realized, was something he needed to take care of now. So, he pulled into the first parking lot he saw, stopped the car and turned to look at the boy in the back seat. Dick's eyes were outlined with fear and his body was tense.
"There is no way I'm taking you to the detention center, Dick," Greg assured him softly. "I don't know why Sus…Miss Jameson said that but…"
"She said there was no room," Dick interrupted quietly.
"Well, that was last year. I'll find a family for you to stay with, Dick. You are definitely not going to the detention center."
"Can't I just go back to my normal family?"
"Bruce Wayne is your guardian, Dick. He is not your parent and he needs to be investigated. His voice was very threatening yesterday and I can't just let that go. I have to make sure you are safe."
"I am safe with him," Dick mumbled. "Safer than anywhere else."
That was exactly what Clark Kent had told Greg yesterday. Something else to ponder, he decided as he faced front again. He started the car and drove to the social services building. Both man and boy were quiet as they took the elevator to the third floor, where Lisa met them in the outer office with a puzzle book.
Greg crouched in front of Dick.
"I'm going to find you a place to stay and then I'll begin my investigation, okay? If I feel that you will still be safe there, you'll be back at Wayne Manor soon."
"How long is 'soon'?" Dick asked.
"It should only take a couple of weeks."
"A couple…weeks?!" Dick gasped.
His small body began to tremble and his breathing became erratic. Greg recognized the signs of a panic attack, as did Lisa. He put his hand on Dick's shoulder, attempting to ground him.
"Just breathe, kiddo," he said gently. "I'll find you a great family, everything will be fine."
But Dick couldn't breathe. He felt like the air had been punched out of his chest and he would never be able to breathe again. A pair of soft arms enveloped his body and for some reason he trusted them. So he melted against the chest of Lisa and began crying.
"I've got him," Lisa whispered. "Go make some calls."
Greg nodded and stood up. He strode into his office, closed the door and began making phone calls.
"It's okay, sweetie, everything will work out," Lisa murmured in Dick's ear. "Mr. Makov will take care of things, he'll figure out what to do."
Dick stopped crying and remained absolutely silent.
"Do you want to do some puzzles, or color, or read a book?" she asked.
She was kneeling on the floor with the boy on her lap and her legs were already falling asleep. But Dick shook his head and his hands latched onto her wrists.
"Okay," she said soothingly. "We'll just sit here until you're ready. Okay?"
Dick nodded this time so Lisa shifted her position. She was sitting down now, leaning against her desk with Dick curled up in her lap.
"I'm sorry this is so hard," she whispered.
Dick nodded again and she felt the tiny shaking of his shoulders that meant he was quietly crying again. A single tear slid down her cheek; sometimes she hated her job.
"Are you sure you can't take him? It will most likely only be for a couple of weeks. No, I understand. Thanks."
Greg hung up the phone. That was his sixteenth call – all the usual homes had no room for anyone else. He had tried some of his normal foster parents but none of them were prepared for another child. He had two choices left: a poor but usually willing family – the Dunstons – or the detention center. So, really, he had no choice because Greg wasn't going to allow the innocent and terrified ten-year-old to spend any amount of time in the detention center. Sighing, he picked up the phone again.
"Hello, Matilda…yes, it's Greg Makov. How did you…oh, you bought a new phone, congratulations! Yes, I know. Well, I have a favor to ask of you and your husband. I have a kid, a ten-year-old boy, who needs a place to stay for a couple of weeks. Yes, I've talked to all the childrens' homes, nobody has room. If this will be a hardship…okay…yes, of course you'll receive money for his expenses. Really? Oh, thank you so much, you just bailed me out of a tough situation! His name is Richard Grayson but he goes by Dick. Okay, I'll bring him over this afternoon. Thanks again!"
Greg hung up the phone, stood up and walked to his door. He flung it open, ready to tell both Dick and Lisa the good news. But they were sitting on the floor, the boy tucked into a ball and the woman whispering in his ear.
Instead of standing there, he sat down next to them. He lightly touched Dick's arm, and the boy flinched.
"I've found you a place to stay, kiddo," he stated softly. "Mr. and Mrs. Dunston are really nice and…"
"Only Bruce can call me kiddo," the boy whispered with a sniffle. "Only Bruce and Alfred are nice."
"Give them a chance, sweetie," Lisa whispered back. "I know them and Mr. Makov is right. They are always willing to take care of our children."
"I'm going to go get you some stuff from Wayne Manor," Greg continued, "and then we'll go to the Dunston's house this afternoon."
"What stuff?"
"Some clothes and other necessities. Is there anything in particular that you want me to bring back?"
"Bruce."
Greg sighed and stated, "You know I can't do that, Dick. You cuddle up with Lisa and I'll be back soon. You're going to love staying with the Dunstons, I just know it."
Standing up, Greg strode out of the office and down to his car. Thirty minutes later he was knocking on the front door of Wayne Manor. Alfred opened the door with a polite yet somewhat grim look on his face.
"I'm just here to pick up some things for Dick," Greg explained. "I found him a family to stay with during my investigation."
"Who?" Bruce demanded as he strode into view.
"That's not something I can tell you. Please just show me where his room is and I'll collect some things that he'll need."
"How long will this investigation take, Mr. Makov?" Alfred inquired politely.
"Two weeks at the most, unless I find something unusual."
"Two weeks?!" Bruce gasped, much in the same way that Dick had.
"It is my obligation to warn you that you cannot try to find him or visit him. He obviously cares about you both very much and I would hate to have to take him away from you permanently."
"Of course, Mr. Makov," Alfred replied.
Bruce was standing completely still, shock written all over his face. Two weeks, two weeks without his shining light. Two weeks without an energetic ten-year-old running around the house, or working out in the gym, or flying gracefully through the air. Two weeks without being able to check on him after returning from patrol. Two weeks.
"He sometimes has nightmares," Bruce whispered to Greg.
Alfred had gone upstairs and was packing a small suitcase. Bruce was too stunned to even move.
"The people he will be staying with are very kind. They have taken several of our kids before and I trust them completely. He will be safe, Mr. Wayne."
Alfred returned and handed Greg the suitcase. Nodding his thanks, the social worker turned to leave.
"Tell him I miss him. Please," Bruce said quietly.
"I'll let him know, Mr. Wayne. I'll be back to visit you soon. We have some things to discuss and I need to have a look around your house."
With another nod, Greg walked out the door. Alfred closed it behind him, then waited until he heard the car start up and the noise fade away.
"Two weeks," Bruce whispered.
"We need to prepare the study, sir," the butler said wisely. "There can be no evidence of anything having to do with Batman."
"Of course," Bruce replied, still whispering. "But…two weeks!"
"We will get through this, Master Bruce. Master Dick is strong but everything has been ripped away from him again. We need to be prepared for his return and that won't happen if we stand here talking about how long he'll be gone, sir."
Shaking himself out of his stupor, the millionaire nodded. Together, they went to the study to hide the Bat-phone and make sure the bookcase wouldn't open and everything else they needed to do in order to protect Batman's identity.
Greg Makov and Dick Grayson arrived at Jasper and Matilda Dunston's house at three o'clock in the afternoon. The house was small and shaped like a rectangle. It was completely white except for the emerald trim on the roof. They walked up the sidewalk and knocked on the matching emerald door. It was immediately opened and they were invited in.
"Dick, this is Mrs. Dunston. Matilda, this is Dick Grayson."
"Hello, sweetheart," the woman said, looking Dick in the eyes with a warm smile.
She was short and thin, in her mid-fifties with wrinkles everywhere. Her eyes were an unusual mix of blue and green, looking almost teal in the light. Matilda's hair was a bright, flaming red with bouncy curls that matched the sparkle in her eyes.
"And this is Mr. Dunston," Greg said as a man walked into the room. "Jasper, this is Dick Grayson."
Jasper stuck out his hand with a smile. Dick slowly slid his hand into the much bigger one of the man and they shook firmly.
"Nice to meet you, Dick!" Jasper said in a loud but raspy voice. "Sorry about the somewhat creepy voice, I've had a bit of a cold."
Jasper was also short but he was lean and fit instead of just thin. The slight outlines of muscles in his arms reminded Dick of Oliver, the Australian, and he shuddered slightly.
"Nice to meet you," the boy said softly.
"We're going to have a lot of fun," Matilda said. "We have a trampoline and a bookcase full of books. Do you like to read?"
Dick nodded and she smiled again.
"We don't have much in the way of toys but you can make do with what we have."
Dick nodded again as Jasper took the suitcase from Greg.
Crouching down in front of the ten-year-old, Greg said, "It's going to be fine, Dick. I'll complete my investigation as quickly as possible and, hopefully, my findings will be in Mr. Wayne's favor. Give them a chance, okay? They'll take good care of you."
Dick nodded for a third time even as a tear slid down his cheek.
"Oh, sweetie, come here," Matilda said compassionately, gently taking Dick's arm and pulling him into a hug. "It will only be for a couple of weeks and we're going to have lots of fun together."
Greg stood up, thanked the Dunstons again, and left. As soon as he was gone, Matilda stopped smiling and pushed Dick away.
"We have some rules," Jasper said solemnly. "Number one: you are the cook and housekeeper. You have to earn your keep, you can't just stay here for free. Number two: you are not allowed to read or play until your daily chores are done. These chores include, but are not limited to, dishes, sweeping and mopping, dusting, vacuuming, washing the windows and cleaning the baseboards. Those must be done every day. Saturday chores include, but are not limited to, laundry, cleaning the bathrooms and yard work, in addition to your regular daily chores. We require a neat house at all times. You will also complete a daily workout so that Mr. Makov sees you are still nice and fit.
Number three: you will not talk to anybody, including us, unless you are told to. When we have visitors, you will go directly to your room and stay there until you are told to come out. Number four: when Mr. Makov comes to check on you, you will tell him that you are having a wonderful time. Number five: you will not wear any of the clothes you brought with you. Those are from your old life and do not belong in our house. Except for when Mr. Makov comes over.
If you fail to follow any of these rules, you will be punished. The severity of that punishment will depend on what rule you broke. Because I am fair, I will tell you that those punishments can include, but are not limited to, several smacks on the bum with a belt, missing a meal or two, spending the night in the basement, additional chores and spending the day tied up under the porch. That last one is only for very bad behavior or constant rule-breaking. We are not horrible people.
You will wear the clothes that are in your room and you will not complain about those or the bedding you will have. Do you understand these rules?"
Dick nodded, his mind whirling with fear and his fists clenched in anger. How did Mr. Makov not know this?! What if he burned something he cooked, like he did the pie?!
"Where…"
"I will now show you to your room and then give you a tour of the house," Matilda stated. "And don't speak unless you are told to. We will answer any questions we think you might have so anything we don't answer is unimportant and you have no need to ask it."
Grabbing his hand, Matilda roughly led him down the hall. She stopped at the last door on the left and pushed it. It creaked loudly as it swung open. The room was small and there was a thin mattress on the floor. A thin blanket was folded on the mattress and a flat pillow lay at one end. There was no furniture and the closet held only two pairs of pants, a pair of shorts and three well-used t-shirts. Jasper put Dick's suitcase on the closet shelf, well out of the ten-year-old's reach.
"Here is your nightshirt," Jasper said, tossing him an old burlap sack with holes for the arms, legs and head. "If it's not comfortable then it's up to you whether or not to use it. Neither the heater nor air conditioner work in here. Saves us on our energy bill."
"Come on, let me show you the house," Matilda continued, pulling him out of the room and returning to the front room.
"This is, obviously, the family room. The entire house is carpeted except for the kitchen and bathrooms so you will be doing more vacuuming than sweeping and mopping."
She led him around the corner and into the kitchen.
"After the tour you'll stay in here to familiarize yourself with the locations of everything. Breakfast is at seven o'clock, lunch is at noon and dinner is at five o'clock. If any meal is not on time or not cooked properly, you will be disciplined. The menu for the week will be given to you on Sunday nights. If you don't know how to make something, then, for your sake, I hope you're a quick learner."
There were two doors at the opposite end of the kitchen. One led to a bathroom and the other led to the backyard. The bathroom was small and had no tub or shower.
"This is the bathroom you will use. If you want a shower, you may use the hose in the backyard. You are limited to this one bar of soap so use it wisely."
They went out the door into the backyard. It went onto a porch and there were three steps down. The yard was a perfect square and landscaped with rocks and tall weeds.
"We haven't had a kid for a while so it's a good thing tomorrow is Saturday. Those weeds need pulling. That bush needs to be trimmed, also," Matilda stated, pointing to the short shrubbery in the exact center of the square. "We'll give you a picture of how it needs to look when you're done. If it doesn't look close to the picture, you will be disciplined."
Pushing him down, she pointed under the steps.
"See those two chains? That is where you will be held if you continually break the rules. Or if you fail to complete your daily or weekend chores. There's the trampoline," she pointed to a small workout trampoline near the bush. "That's where you will do your daily workout. After your chores, you will jump for ten minutes. Then you will put your hands on there for pushups – fifty per workout. If we decide you need more, you will do so without complaint. Does everything make sense so far?"
Dick kept his mouth shut and nodded. Inside he was terrified and confused and worried but he resolved to be strong for Bruce and Alfred.
"The fence needs to be painted," Jasper stated from behind them. "It can wait until next Saturday, I suppose."
"Hopefully he's here for more than two weeks," Matilda replied as she turned them around. "We need the money."
Pulling him back toward the house, she led him up the steps and back into the kitchen. The hall where they had taken him to show him his bedroom was near the bathroom. They walked down the hall and stopped at the first door on the right.
"This is our bedroom," Matilda said. "You will wake us up at exactly six-thirty so that we have time to get dressed before breakfast. You will do this by loudly knocking three times. If we respond, you may return to making breakfast. If we don't, you will continue until we do respond."
Continuing down the hall, she said, "Laundry room right next to your room. Basement through this door."
She opened the door and Dick stared down at a long set of dark stairs. He couldn't even see the basement floor.
"No lightbulbs down there so you might want to make sure you obey the rules," she advised. "That is Jasper's favorite punishment, though, so you should probably resign yourself to being down there a few times."
Dick was trembling now. Matilda glanced at him and rolled her eyes.
"Don't tell me you're afraid of the dark," she chuckled.
The ten-year-old opened his mouth, thought better of it, and shook his head. He wasn't afraid of the dark, he was afraid of being alone in the dark.
"Well, that's about it. Into the kitchen you go and we'll expect dinner in an hour and a half. I will be going grocery shopping tomorrow so you'll just have to figure out what to make with whatever ingredients we have. At five o'clock sharp the table should be set and dinner should be on it."
Matilda left and Dick stood stock still in the middle of the kitchen. He was supposed to create a dinner from any ingredients he could find?! Maybe he could devise something that wouldn't have to be baked or put on the stove. Then he wouldn't have to worry about burning it.
Dick took a deep breath and began opening cupboards and drawers. There weren't very many so it was easy to memorize where everything was. The pantry was nearly bare but the refrigerator had a full carton of eggs and a half block of cheddar cheese. Scrambled eggs, he knew how to do that.
The ten-year-old stood in front of the stove and stared at the six knobs. He twisted one that looked like it would turn on the back burner on the right side. It was fortunate that he was standing on the left side, because a bright flame burst from the burner, startling him. A gas stove, he had never used a gas stove.
Dick glanced at the clock on the kitchen counter – 3:47. Scrambled eggs didn't take an hour to make. What was he supposed to do until it was time to make them?
He noticed a broom by the back door. Deciding to be productive, Dick grabbed it and swept the small kitchen floor. Now if only he knew where the mop was. The ten-year-old had looked through every drawer, cupboard and door in the kitchen; he already knew it wasn't in the kitchen. Should he chance going to the laundry room? Matilda had told him to stay in the kitchen, but mopping was one of his daily chores. Perhaps the chore thing started tomorrow.
Dick sat on a chair at the table and resigned himself to boredom for half an hour. Then he noticed a cookbook on the counter by the sink. Standing up, he walked over and opened it. Flipping through it, he noticed many recipes had stars by them. He chose one at random and started reading it.
The list of ingredients was long and the instructions were complicated. Dick flipped to a different page with a star. The amount of ingredients was shorter but the directions were written in sloppy penmanship and Dick could barely make out the words. Hopefully, this wasn't what he was going to have to use to make meals.
He glanced at the clock again – 4:07. Now what? Nothing, there was absolutely nothing he could do. Every room was off limits right now except the kitchen. Dick wasn't allowed to ask the Dunstons any questions, even though he had plenty of them. Mopping was out of the question and the pantry didn't need organizing. Neither did the fridge, which was making some sort of weird whining sound.
Jasper suddenly entered the kitchen.
"Did you open the fridge?" he demanded.
Dick nodded fearfully as Jasper glared at him and walked over to the appliance.
"It doesn't close all the way by itself," the man stated. "You have to push it all the way. What do you have to say for yourself?"
"I'm sorry, I didn't know," Dick whispered, his voice trembling.
"That's true," Jasper said with a giant sigh. "I'll let it go but now you know so don't do it again. Understand?"
Dick nodded and then raised his hand.
"Whatever your question is, it's not important. Matilda and I have been doing this for many years and already know every question you kids ask. If we didn't answer it, it doesn't matter. Got it?"
The boy nodded again and the man quickly left the kitchen. Dick glanced at the clock and sighed – 4:12. Matilda appeared and Dick jumped in surprise.
"Why are you just standing here?" she asked, her tone not angry but close enough that it made Dick nervous.
"I already found out where everything is and if I start dinner now it will be cold by five o'clock."
"What are you making?"
"Scrambled eggs with cheese."
"Breakfast food for dinner?" she nearly screeched. "Eggs are for breakfast! Find something else to make."
With that, she stomped out of the room, leaving Dick standing there with shock in his eyes. There was nothing else to make!
Swiftly he searched through the pantry again. A can of baked beans, a can of corn, a bottle of salsa and some potato chips. Then he went back to the fridge. Eggs, cheese, a quarter of a gallon of milk and a full bottle of tartar sauce.
Dick closed the fridge, making sure to push it all the way, and opened the freezer. The tartar sauce had given him an idea and it paid off. There was an open box of frozen, breaded fish filets. He pulled it out and was dismayed to see only three planks left. Turning the box over, he noticed that it would take twenty minutes for them to cook. He glanced at the clock again – 4:22.
He had plenty of time. The oven would have to preheat so he quickly set it to the correct temperature. After several minutes, he opened the oven door to test the air. There was no red light indicating power and the air was room temperature. Something was either wrong or he had messed up or the oven didn't even work. But, he wasn't allowed to leave the kitchen to ask them how to work the oven and he wasn't allowed to ask them anyway.
With a frown, Dick twisted the knob that was clearly labeled 'oven'. He turned it all the way up to 450 degrees. Several minutes later he tested it again – no power light and no heat. Growling, he put the frozen fish back in the freezer and searched for something else. There was bread but he didn't have time to thaw it out and the oven didn't work.
Potato chips covered in corn and salsa with baked beans on the side.
It sounded gross but it was the only thing he could think of so he shrugged and glanced at the clock – 4:34. Suddenly, a horrid stench filled the air. It smelled like something was burning. Dick opened the oven door and black smoke floated out, filling the air and causing him to cough. He quickly closed the door and turned off the oven.
Both Jasper and Matilda rushed into the kitchen.
"What's going on?" she screamed as the smoke floated toward her.
Jasper couldn't talk, he was too busy coughing.
"I'm sorry," Dick said in a shaky voice. "It wasn't working, I don't know how to work it, there was no power light and it didn't get hot and I forgot to turn the knob off but it wasn't working anyway!"
Matilda threw open the back door and Jasper sat down on the nearest chair. The smoke was gone five minutes later and she shut the door.
"You have," she glanced at the clock, "twenty minutes to clean this room and get dinner on the table. Do not set a third place at the table because you just lost the privilege of eating."
"I didn't mean to, I didn't know how to work it!" Dick exclaimed.
"She didn't tell you to talk," Jasper growled as he stood up. "You get to cleaning, I'll be right back."
Dick reached under the sink and grabbed a washcloth. All the counters were covered in a thin layer of black and the window was spotted with black dots. His freshly-swept floor now had little clumps of dust in random places.
He started with the window and, when he was finished, glanced at the clock – 4:46. Quickly he rinsed the cloth and began cleaning the counters. Dick was in the middle of that when Jasper returned.
"Stop," he commanded and Dick immediately did. "Go in the bathroom and change into these shorts. When you come out, stand by the door, hands on the wall, arms straight."
Dick quickly obeyed. The shorts were small, even for him. He changed as fast as possible then came out and stood like Jasper had told him to. His eyes widened when he heard the distinctive 'snap' of a belt.
"If you make any noise, your punishment will increase. Since this was your first mistake, you will only receive three strikes."
The first hit burned. The shorts were thin and gave him almost no protection from the hard leather of the belt. By the time Jasper was done, Dick assumed that he would never be able to sit down again. It felt like his flesh was gone and all his nerves were exposed to the air.
But he didn't scream, or cry, or make any noise at all. There was no way he was going to allow the man to continue after the third one. Dick resolved to be perfect at everything from now on so that he wouldn't have to feel that ever again.
Jasper left and Dick released the breath he had been holding. Several tears escaped as he glanced at the clock – 4:54. He had six minutes to finish the counters, the floor, and get dinner on the table. Grabbing the washcloth again, he began scrubbing the counters and decided that the floor could wait.
It took him three minutes to get the counters cleaned. He took two plates out of the cupboard and loaded them with potato chips. The can of corn took almost thirty seconds to open and now he was panicking. Two minutes left – not enough time to warm up the corn. So, onto the chips it went, followed by the salsa. One minute left and the can of beans took another thirty seconds to open. Dick was just scooping the last of the baked beans onto a plate when Jasper and Matilda entered the room.
They sat down as Dick put the empty can of beans in the garbage.
"What on earth is this?!" Jasper exclaimed. "It looks like…I can't even describe it!"
"Just try it, Jasper," Matilda encouraged. "Perhaps it's better than it looks. And we didn't have many groceries so he didn't have a lot to choose from."
They both took a bite. Dick stood by the sink, his arms folded tightly across his chest and his light-blue eyes wide with apprehension. Matilda swallowed then gagged while Jasper immediately spit his bite right back out.
"Is this the best you can do?" Matilda asked calmly.
"Well, you didn't want eggs and you only had corn and beans and salsa and chips. I was going to do fish but the…oven…"
He trailed off when Jasper slammed a hand on the table.
"Are you trying to blame Matilda for your mess?!"
"No, sir, I just…she didn't want eggs."
"Why is everything cold?" the woman asked.
"I, uh, didn't have time to warm anything up."
"Why not?"
"Because I was cleaning and then, um…"
"Now you're trying to blame me because you made me discipline you!"
"No, sir," Dick said as he started to cry. "I just…I've never cooked before and then I didn't have time and I just, please don't be mad!"
"Oh, stop your blubbering," Matilda muttered as she glanced at the floor. "Did you not have time to sweep the floor?" she asked in a sweet voice.
"No," Dick whispered, the word barely audible through his hands that were now covering his face.
"Well, Matilda, we've never had to dole out this much punishment on the first day. Congratulations, Dick, you've earned a trifecta: no dinner privileges, some smacks and now you get to sleep in the basement," Jasper grumbled with a sigh.
"No, please, I'll make it up, I'll do better, please," Dick begged.
"Okay, because it's your first day and I'm not a horrible person, I'll let you choose. Five more smacks with the belt, sleep in the basement or no food at all tomorrow."
Dick knew he wouldn't be able to do his chores if he couldn't eat and he definitely didn't want to set even a single foot in the basement.
"Five smacks," he said quietly.
"Are you sure?" Matilda asked. "Is that going to be enough to teach you the lesson, Dick? After all," she said, holding up a hand and beginning to tick things off on her finger, "you filled the house with smoke, made something totally inedible, didn't complete your single chore of cleaning the kitchen, implied that it was my fault that you didn't make a good meal and implied that it was Jasper's fault that you didn't finish your chore."
"No, m'am, I didn't mean to imply…no, everything was my fault. I'm sorry…please!"
"I think you're right, Matilda. Now he's talking without being given permission. Perhaps it should be ten instead of five."
"Please," Dick whispered desperately.
"Better make it fifteen, Jasper, since he obviously doesn't care about the rules."
"How about this: ten, no breakfast and he paints the fence after pulling weeds and trimming the bush."
"That sounds good. Dick, honey, go get the belt. It's in the laundry room next to the mop. You have ten seconds to find it, bring it back, and stand against the wall."
Dick's heart was hammering in his chest. He didn't know if he could withstand ten of Jasper's strong strikes without making a sound. But he did as he was told, rushing to the laundry room and back within five seconds and standing against the wall two seconds later.
"Now remember," Jasper said, "no noise. We don't want the neighbors to complain about our unruly foster child."
His knees buckled after the fourth hit, making the fifth one land on his back. Arching in pain, he forced himself to stand up. After the tenth he dropped to the floor and curled into himself, silently sobbing.
"Clean everything up and then go to bed," Jasper commanded.
Dick heard something plop onto the floor and he looked up. The Dunstons had slid the potato chip mess off their plates. Leaving the plates on the table, they turned to leave.
"The floor and the dishes, honey," Matilda said before she followed Jasper into the family room.
"Not your honey," Dick gasped as soon as they were gone.
He stayed on the floor for nearly ten minutes, waiting for the pain to subside. It calmed down slightly and the ten-year-old decided he could get up and complete his 'one chore'. So he did, and as he did he shoved some baked beans into his mouth. If he wasn't going to get breakfast, he needed as much protein as he could get now. And if they were going to throw their protein away, he was going to take advantage of that.
It was six o'clock when Dick put the last dish away. Every surface was clean and the floor had not a speck of dust. Walking very slowly, Dick went down the hall to his room. When he got there he didn't bother changing anything. He laid down on his stomach, closed his eyes, and allowed the tears to stream onto the uncomfortable pillow. It took him almost two hours to fall asleep.