Mr. Grasshopper checked the list he'd made, drawing his finger down the page as he scanned for what else he needed. Pausing, he tapped it then nodded and turned to his suitcase. He was just about packed for his trip, and he was just making last minute preparations. He was leaving the next day before daybreak, and he was excited to get going. Honestly, he just wanted to get away from the family for a while. Specifically Mr. Centipede. Things were just so tense between the two of them. They were so very different, and Mr. Grasshopper was having a particularly difficult time with being around the predator.
A knock on the door interrupted Mr. Grasshopper's thoughts, and he stood and went to answer it. James stood there, his pale cast cradled against his chest as his good hand hung at his side, his fingers nervously tapping his thigh. Mr. Grasshopper smiled.
"Hello, James. Come on in."
James did so, looking around the room. A hammock made of soft gossamer spider silk was strung up across one side of the room, a puffy pillow and a thick blanket neatly folded in the crease of the hammock. Several plants were blooming in the windowsill, each missing a few leaves. A wardrobe stood on the other side of the room, mostly emptied into the suitcase, which was open on a dresser. Mr. Grasshopper cleared some music books off a chair and offered it to James before turning back to his list.
"Is there something you need?" Mr. Grasshopper asked.
James smiled and nodded. "I was wondering something."
"And that is?"
The boy took a deep breath. "I was wondering if I could come with you."
Mr. Grasshopper paused and turned to appraise James. James met his eyes with a hopeful smile, but he was clutching his broken wrist to his chest. Mr. Grasshopper's lower right hand stroked his side before he caught himself and pressed both pairs of hands together.
"May I ask you something?" Mr. Grasshopper asked.
"Of course."
"Is there a particular reason that you want to come with me on this trip?"
James's cheeks turned pink and he looked away, fidgeting in his chair. After a whole minute, he looked back at Mr. Grasshopper, met his eyes, then nodded. "Yes."
Mr. Grasshopper nodded and cleaned his antennae with his top hands. "Is there a particular person that you are trying to, say, avoid this summer by coming with me?"
James turned a darker shade of red, but he didn't hesitate for as long. Instead, after a few seconds of silence, he nodded. "Yes, Mr. Grasshopper."
"I see." Mr. Grasshopper sat down in his hammock on top of the folded blanket and considered James's request as the boy sat and watched him anxiously. At last, Mr. Grasshopper sat up. "If the others do not object, then you may come with me."
James brightened. "Really?"
"Really," Mr. Grasshopper said, smiling. "Go on and ask them, James."
James hopped up and ran out of the room. Mr. Grasshopper finished his packing while waiting for James. Just as he placed his suitcase beside his door, all ready for the next day, James came to the doorway, his face aglow with pleasure.
"They said as long as I don't get in your way, I can go."
Mr. Grasshopper beamed. "Excellent. Well then, you best go and pack for the trip. And we get up at four tomorrow morning, so you'd better get it done soon so you can get to sleep and have enough rest. You'll need clothes, enough for several days; of course we'll have to wash them on the trip. You'll need your good suit for the concerts. Toothbrush. Hairbrush. And I'll get you some books for the long bus rides. If you have any questions, come to me. Alright?"
James nodded and hurried over to embrace the grasshopper around the middle. "Thanks, Mr. Grasshopper," he murmured. "I mean it."
"Of course, my dear boy. Of course," Mr. Grasshopper said, hugging James with all four of his arms. "Now run along. So much to do."
James walked over to the door and looked back to smile again at his guardian. Mr. Grasshopper saw questions shining in James's bright eyes, and he had to force a smile in reply as anxiety churned his stomach. Then James ran to his room to pack his own suitcase, leaving Mr. Grasshopper standing very still, suddenly feeling cornered. He strode over and closed his door then leaned against it, taking several deep breaths. He knew that several awkward, difficult conversations lay in his future, which made him worry.
He paced as his mind raced, trying to calm down. He swallowed down his nerves after several minutes and took a deep breath. It was James going with him, not any of the others, he reminded himself. The boy was kind and gentle, and if anybody would understand what Mr. Grasshopper had been through, it was James. Especially with what had happened to his wrist. Sure it was different because James was human, but surely it was similar enough that he would sympathize. And Mr. Grasshopper knew that it would help James to know that he wasn't the only person who had ever been targeted by a predator.
'No. Bully. Not predator,' Mr. Grasshopper thought.
With his mind clearer, Mr. Grasshopper turned to his list and began to scan it, making sure he had everything for the tenth time.
The next morning found James and Mr. Grasshopper walking down the sidewalk to the concert hall where the music troupe would be leaving from within the hour. They each grasped their suitcase, and James was yawning every few minutes. When they walked into the large building, James stopped walking and his mouth fell open as he looked around. He'd never seen such an extravagant room in his whole life. Polished brass, shining marble floors, gleaming crystal, and red velvet decorated the whole room.
"Oh gosh," he gasped. "Is this where you're playing tonight?"
Mr. Grasshopper laughed as he took James's hand and guided him across the room. "Not tonight. This is the venue for our final performance, James. This is the last place we'll play before we head back home."
"It's so big!" James exclaimed.
"Wait until you see the stage hall," Mr. Grasshopper said then pushed open the doors. The hall was absolutely enormous, and more glamorous decorations met James's eyes. His entire face lit up.
"You have the best job, Mr. Grasshopper," he breathed.
Pleasure filled the insect, and he straightened up and beamed at James. "It is a rather nice job," he admitted. "I get to let the world hear my soul."
"That sounds scary," James said as they headed for the backstage area.
"It is," Mr. Grasshopper admitted. "But it's glorious, too."
James had the biggest smile on his face as they climbed up on the stage and headed for the back. When they pushed through the curtain, James saw two men and two women talking over instrument cases. They turned to see who was there, and they grinned at Mr. Grasshopper.
"There you are," a tall, Italian man said. He had messy, short black hair and shining blue eyes, which fell on James. "And this must be the infamous James. Been on any pieces of flying fruit lately?"
James smiled politely and shook his head. "None since the peach. But that was quite the adventure. We faced pirates and cloud men."
"Well, I look forward to hearing all about it. I'm Oliver."
He held out his hand and James shook it firmly. "Good to meet you. Do you play?"
"We all do," a dark-skinned woman said, brushing her curly black hair behind her ears. "I'm Veronica. I play viola."
James shook her hand. "Good to meet you. What do you play, Oliver?"
"Oboe," he replied. He pointed at his instrument, which was in its case.
"I'm Bastian," the man with blond hair and brown eyes said. He wore a pair of trousers with suspenders over a green shirt. "I play double bass."
"Hello there," James said, shaking his hand.
"I'm Heather," the young, fair woman said. She had long brown hair and a slew of freckles across her nose. She wore a pink dress that went past her knees and pretty gold earrings. "I play the harp."
"Like the angels?" James asked, his eyes shining.
"Angels, James?" Mr. Grasshopper asked.
"Mother used to tell me stories about how the angels play their harps to help the children sleep. They did that for baby Jesus and they still do it for all the little children."
The adults stared at him with slow smiles spreading across their faces. Mr. Grasshopper chuckled and ruffled James's hair. "Yes, James, like the angels."
James suddenly looked alarmed. "You forgot your violins!" he exclaimed.
Mr. Grasshopper shook his head. "Calm down, James. I left them here yesterday so that I wouldn't forget them. All we've got to do is load up the bus and go."
"Bus? Like a city bus?" James asked.
They all laughed. "No. Follow me, James," Oliver said, picking up his oboe case.
They all grabbed their cases and headed outside. Mr. Grasshopper picked up his violin cases and followed at the rear. When they went out into the cool summer air at the back of the theatre, a short bus painted red was waiting with its rear doors open. James stared at it.
"We all pitched in and bought it from one of my neighbors," Veronica said, setting her case by the doors. "We decided it would be perfect to travel across New York for our concerts."
"We get to ride in a bus?" James asked Mr. Grasshopper.
Mr. Grasshopper smiled and nodded. "Yes." He paused and looked up. "I hope you all don't mind, but James wanted to come with us. I said yes."
Oliver shrugged. "Sounds good to me. As long as he doesn't go sailing away in a cherry."
James laughed. "I promise I won't."
Heather twirled a few strands of hair around her fingers. "Where would he sleep?" she asked. "We've already booked all the rooms."
"He will sleep in my room," Mr. Grasshopper said at once. "No need for any worry or panic. That way we're all doubled up."
"Doubled up?" James asked.
"I'm bunking with Bastian," Oliver said.
"And I'm sharing rooms with Veronica," Heather said.
"And you and I shall share a room," Mr. Grasshopper said. "Does that sounds agreeable?"
James nodded. "Of course."
"Excellent. Are we ready to load up?" Mr. Grasshopper asked.
They all nodded, and Mr. Grasshopper, Bastian, and Oliver carefully loaded up the instruments while James, Heather, and Veronica went to a bakery to get some breakfast for them. Within twenty minutes, they loaded up, and Bastian started up the bus then they were off. As soon as they were settled in the front seats, Veronica turned to James.
"Alright, alright. Let's hear the story," she said.
"Story?" James asked, looking startled.
"About the peach!" Heather exclaimed.
"Surely you've heard it before," James said, turning to look at Mr Grasshopper, who
was seated in front of him.
"He's never told us," Heather said, pouting exaggeratedly.
"Why not?" James asked.
"Because I can't tell it like you can," Mr. Grasshopper replied. "You make it come alive. I could never do that. My heart sings with music, not words. But you are an excellent storyteller. I didn't want to ruin the story before they heard it."
James flushed with delight then sat up straight. "How long do you want it?"
"Shoot for as long as you want," Bastian said from the driver's seat. "We won't get to Buffalo until this evening."
Rarely did James get unlimited time to tell his story. Usually there was dinner to interrupt, sometimes they had to leave wherever they were. So James did not waste the opportunity. He talked all day, even through lunch at a diner, and the adults all listened with rapt attention as he detailed his story with the peach. By the time the sun was setting, the music troupe was the first and only group to have gotten the full story of James's adventure with the giant peach. Besides them, only the family knew what had happened, and that was because they had lived through it.
"That's absolutely incredible," Veronica marveled as Bastian pulled in to park at a hotel.
"What a story!" Oliver crowed. "Flying a peach with over five hundred seagulls! Genius!"
James smiled modestly. "We're just lucky Miss Spider and Silkworm had so much thread."
"Almost drained them completely," Mr. Grasshopper confirmed. "Thankfully, they recovered quickly."
Bastian shut the bus off and stood up, stretching. "Well, we're here, folks. I'm ready to sleep."
Grabbing their luggage and instruments, they all headed inside to grab the keys for their rooms. James was surprised by how fancy the hotel was. The bed was enormous and so soft it was almost like the spider silk he slept on at home.
"Wow. Are we staying in places like this all month?" James asked.
Mr. Grasshopper smiled. "As nice as this is, no. We're staying in motels as well. We've decided to play across the state in many different venues."
"How long are we staying here?" James asked, hopping onto the bed.
"Three days and four nights," Mr. Grasshopper replied.
James nodded and bounced on the bed. "It's been a long time since I've slept in a bed."
"Oh? Well, it has been several years since we left that horrible hill," Mr. Grasshopper said thoughtfully.
"No. I meant with my parents."
Mr. Grasshopper paused, his mind reeling. Had his aunts never given him a bed to sleep in? If James was to be believed, then that was what he meant. Mr. Grasshopper clenched his fists and took a deep breath then changed the subject.
"I never really know how to sleep in a normal human bed," he admitted. "My anatomy always makes it interesting. I much prefer Miss Spider's hammocks."
James giggled as he looked over his guardian's insect form. "Maybe on your side?"
"That's how I always end up," Mr. Grasshopper said. "Now, how about some room service? It'll be a treat so we don't have to go out to find dinner."
"Oh, yes please!" James exclaimed.
Mr. Grasshopper picked up the phone and looked over the menu. Half an hour later, they were gladly eating their dinner and chatting. When their plates were cleared, James lay back and stretched out, yawning.
"How many concerts are you playing here?"
"Four," Mr. Grasshopper answered. "One tomorrow. One Friday. Two on Saturday."
James nodded then propped himself up on his elbow. "Can I ask you something?"
"Certainly."
"Why don't you ever invite the family to see you play?"
Mr. Grasshopper didn't answer for a few moments. Then he swallowed rather hard and spoke. "No need to bother them with my silly performances."
James sat up. "Silly? Why would they think they're silly?"
Mr. Grasshopper swallowed again and stood up abruptly. "I believe I'll rinse off in the shower."
James, recognizing the subject change, let it slide. "May I please watch the Jack Benny program?"
"Of course, James. I'll be out in a few minutes."
After a quick shower, Mr. Grasshopper pulled on his nightshirt and smoothed down the front. He had decided to answer any questions James had, even if he wasn't entirely comfortable with the answers. Taking a deep breath, he walked into the room only to see James curled up at the foot of the bed, fast asleep. He sagged with relief then roused James long enough to help him under the blankets. He switched off the television and the light then crawled into bed, ready for a good night's sleep himself. A part of him was glad that James had fallen asleep. But he knew that the conversations would happen. Perhaps he'd be a bit more ready to talk next time. With that thought, he fell into an uneasy sleep.
