The next couple of weeks went by quickly as Mr. Grasshopper hurried to make the last preparations for his music troupe's trip to play concerts around New York State. But always below the surface was the thought that he needed to talk to James. Unfortunately, James seemed to be avoiding being alone with him for any substantial length of time. Once again, Mr. Grasshopper understood, but he wished desperately to tell James that he was on his side, that he didn't have to worry. He just needed a chance.

Meanwhile, school ended, and summer began, meaning James was out and about, playing with other children in the park all day. There had been no other incidents that spoke of the bullying so far, though all previous injuries James came home with were seen in a new light in the grasshopper's mind. He wondered how many were real accidents, as James often claimed, and how many were the results of purposeful aggression. It disturbed him to recall James's frightened expression, his shame when he realized he was caught, and he determined that he would talk to the boy, whether James wanted it or not.

Once he had checked off the rest of his to-do list for the day, he took a stroll to find James. He decided that walking was better than being in the house. It might make the boy feel trapped, as he sometimes did, and that was a feeling he wouldn't wish on his worst enemy. Perhaps because he was an insect it felt more dangerous, but fight or flight reflexes were ingrained in humankind as well, so he was going to play it safe.

As he searched the park, his sharp ears picked up a noise that made him freeze in place for a few moments. There were boys laughing, shouting, jeering, and he knew what was going on. He forced himself to move, fighting his instincts to run as he hurried toward the commotion. His suspicions were correct, as he saw the crowd of children in a small copse of trees near a bench and a light pole. Just as he'd feared, James was in the middle of the group, being shoved from one to the other, insults coming from every angle. James looked disoriented as he tried and failed to get out of the circle.

"Come on, Limey! Fight back! For Queen and country!" jeered the boy who'd insulted him at the school. He appeared to be the ringleader of the gang, and he was several inches taller and much wider than James, who was thin and lanky.

"Please! Let me go!" James begged, sheer terror in his voice.

Maybe it was the fear, but the boy reacted like a predator, striking hard and fast, and with a mighty shove, James was propelled hard into the metal lamppost, and he put out his hands to try and catch himself. The next thing Mr. Grasshopper knew, he heard a scream that was different, higher, more wild, and he knew that something bad had happened. So did the boys, who paled, and the ringleader took a step back.

"Let's get out of here," he ordered, and they turned to run, but they saw Mr. Grasshopper glaring at them. Panic flashed in their faces, and the scattered.

Mr. Grasshopper hurried forward, grateful that humans were not completely like predators. He knew that if a noise like that had come from a wounded insect, it would have lived for mere seconds longer. But James was crumpled on the ground, and the threat was now gone. For the moment, at least.

Mr. Grasshopper knelt down and gently touched James's shoulder. The boy shuddered and threw up one arm.

"No! Stop it! Please!" he shouted, turning his teary eyes up to plead with the gang. Then he saw it was Mr. Grasshopper, and he burst into tears and reached up imploringly.

Mr. Grasshopper immediately wrapped his lower arms around James's middle and helped him sit up. The boy was holding his wrist against his chest, and Mr. Grasshopper pressed his lips together.

"Let me see it, James," he said gently.

James's lower lip trembled as he held out his arm. "I think it's my wrist," he whispered brokenly.

Mr. Grasshopper eased his fingers over the swollen wrist, and James let out a strangled noise.

"Skeleton's on the inside," Mr. Grasshopper murmured, reminding himself of human biology. "I think it's broken. Try and move your fingers."

James did, and his face pinched. "It hurts."

Mr. Grasshopper nodded. "We'll have to go to the hospital. You need a cast."

James burst into tears again, and Mr. Grasshopper knew why he was afraid even before he spoke. "Can't you fix it?" he stammered through heaving breaths. Mr. Grasshopper shook his head, and James doubled over. "I don't want to tell them!" he sobbed.

James expected Mr. Grasshopper to ask why not, but he didn't. The insect sat back on his heels and thought, staring at the discolored wrist and tapping his fingers together. He clicked his tongue after a minute then nodded once. With great care, he helped James up.

"Come now. We need to get you to the hospital. Mrs. Ladybug will have a fit, not to mention the others."

Resigned to his fate, James stood up and walked with Mr. Grasshopper to the nearest street, where the insect hailed a cab. He helped James into the backseat, and the driver looked back. It was a young man with dark eyes.

"What happened to him?"

"Broken wrist, I think," Mr. Grasshopper said curtly. "Please take us to Central on 7th and Pine."

The driver tipped his hat then took off, weaving expertly through the crowded streets. He made good time, and they soon pulled up in front of the big building. Mr. Grasshopper pulled out his wallet and quickly paid the driver. He made sure to tip very well. The driver tipped his hat again.

"You'll be okay if it's just a broken wrist," the driver told James kindly. "I broke mine when I was about your age. It ain't fun, but it's not the end of the world."

James smiled weakly and thanked him, then Mr. Grasshopper pulled him into the building. The admitting nurse looked up when they got to the desk, and she jumped up at once.

"Mr. Grasshopper! James! What's wrong?" she asked, coming around.

"I fear his wrist is broken," Mr. Grasshopper said. "Is there any chance we can be seen?"

"Of course," she said. "We have time right now. Come along, James."

When they were settled into a room, James kept glancing at Mr. Grasshopper as the seconds ticked by but before he could work up the nerve to ask any of the dozens of questions pinwheeling through his head, the door opened and Mrs. Ladybug came hurrying in.

"Oh! Margie told me you were here! What happened?" she asked, setting aside her purse and reaching for James.

"His wrist might be broken, I'm afraid," Mr. Grasshopper said.

"Broken? Let me see it."

James gingerly held out his wrist, and Mrs. Ladybug studied it.

"I'm no good with bones," she finally said. "But that is not right. Dr. Stevens should be in soon, and he'll set you right. What happened?"

James lowered his eyes to the floor, his heart pounding. How could he even begin to explain? What would the family say?

"He was climbing trees in the park," Mr. Grasshopper said. "I saw him fall. It's very lucky I was there. No telling what he would have done if I hadn't been."

James's eyes went wide as he stared at the floor. Mr. Grasshopper had just lied for him. But would Mrs. Ladybug believe it?

"Oh, James," Mrs. Ladybug sighed. She stroked his hair with one of her hands. "I love that you have a sense of adventure, but I wish you would be a bit more careful."

"I'm sorry," James said quietly.

"Ah, it's okay. I have to go. You take good care of him, Mr. Grasshopper."

"I shall," Mr. Grasshopper promised.

As Mrs. Ladybug opened the door, Dr. Stevens came in, effectively preventing James from having a few moments with Mr. Grasshopper. The doctor confirmed that James had a broken wrist after a short examination then started the process of casting his wrist. After two hours, James was pushed out of the hospital in a wheelchair with a white cast around his left wrist. Mr. Grasshopper helped him up and they waved goodbye to the kind nurse.

"A cab or the bus?" asked Mr. Grasshopper as they set off down the sidewalk.

"The bus," James said at once.

"I believe there's a stop down this way," Mr. Grasshopper said, and they headed for the sign.

James walked a step behind him, thinking hard. He had many questions, but the most pressing one was why Mr. Grasshopper had lied to Mrs. Ladybug. That lie would spread to the rest of the family, and they would have no idea what had really happened that day.

"Would you like a peach?" Mr. Grasshopper asked outside of a grocers market.

"Yes, please," James said, smiling up at Mr. Grasshopper.

Mr. Grasshopper went to peruse the peaches then selected two and paid. He handed the best of the two to James, who took a happy bite and chewed the sweet flesh of the fruit as he thought. They finished their peaches at the bus stop and threw the pits away as the bus pulled up. The two got on and headed for an open seat. Mr. Grasshopper stared out the window as James studied him. Then the boy swallowed and asked his question.

"Mr. Grasshopper?"

"Hm?"

"Why?"

That question could have been about a million things. But Mr. Grasshopper knew it meant only one thing in that moment. He pondered the question, tapping his fingers against his leg, the soft click of his exoskeleton confirming that he was far from human. At last he turned to look at James.

"I understand why you don't want to tell them," he said.

James blinked, surprised by the answer. He didn't quite understand. "What do you mean?"

A soft, sad look came over the insect's face, and he reached over to ruffle the boy's hair. "You remind me so much of myself, James. So much…"

Mr. Grasshopper turned away again and looked out the window. James wondered at what Mr. Grasshopper could mean. Sometimes the bugs would have a conversation that went over James's head, and usually those conversations were about their lives in the Before Time, as they called it. Before the crocodile tongues, they'd lived and survived in a world that James knew nothing about and could scarcely imagine. He'd often tried to imagine being an insect, but he simply couldn't. Perhaps this was one of those times? But James didn't think so. If it were, then surely Mr. Grasshopper would tell the others.

The remainder of the trip was made in silence, and they got off the bus at the entrance to Central Park to walk the rest of the way home. As they strolled through the beautiful park, through the trees and across long stretches of grass, Mr. Grasshopper was silent. But when the house came in sight, he slowed down.

"Mr. Grasshopper?" James asked.

"The others will no doubt have heard of your little mishap," he said. "I suggest you brace yourself."

James stopped and pulled the grasshopper into a hug. Mr. Grasshopper placed his arms over James's shoulders, and he smiled.

"What's all this?"

"Thank you," James said fervently.

Mr. Grasshopper shrugged. "I'm sure the others would have done the same."

"No. They wouldn't have."

Mr. Grasshopper paused, realizing that James wasn't talking about him being taken to the hospital. He cleared his throat.

"Ah, yes. Well, that's just between us. Unless you've changed your mind?"

James shook his head. "No. I haven't."

Mr. Grasshopper smiled. "Then you should really be more careful when you climb trees."

James chuckled as the door to the house flew open and Miss Spider came scuttling out, looking worried. Mr. Grasshopper winked at James then guided him into the house where Mr. Earthworm and the Glowworm were standing, anxiously waiting to fuss over him.