Ch. 24

New York City streets tend to be crowded, no matter the weather. The City That Never Sleeps had earned its name for a good reason and even the threat of a horrible winter storm and freezing temperatures wasn't enough to keep people at home, at least for the morning. Crowds surged through the streets, all of them bundled up in thick clothing as the winter wind- a wind that promised to get even more fierce- blew gusts around them and the sky remained grew and dull. As such, most people focused on getting to where they needed to be as soon as possible and paid little to no heed to those around them.

As such, it was easy for Dylan to avoid detection.

The nine-year-old hadn't bothered looking back to see if he was being pursued. In fact, it hadn't even occurred to him that his absence at school might have already been noticed, but even if Dylan had thought that far ahead, he wouldn't have cared. Rather, he was more concerned with finally getting a decent breakfast for once!

Dylan shivered and scowled as the cold wind blew over his cheeks. Stupid cold weather; if it wasn't for James and those stupid bugs, he could be nice and warm on the couch and watching TV. But no, they all insisted he go to school and not watch TV and eat gross food and go to bed. Now, thanks to them, Dylan had to take matters into his own hands.

Dylan's breaths came in short puffs as he continued walking down the sidewalk. He wasn't sure exactly where he was going, but he wanted to get something good to eat as soon as possible. Stupid bugs; they were starving him and didn't care. Grandma had been so mad about that, but they hadn't listened to her and now Dylan had to walk far away just to eat. Well, maybe now they'd go to jail.

Unaccustomed though he was to walking, Dylan had unknowingly walked at least a mile from his school by the time his piggy eyes spotted a small diner parked cozily on the corner of a nearby street. Deciding it was worth checking out, Dylan trotted over and slipped inside, cheering up at the feeling of warm air heavy with the smell of sugar and coffee. The place seemed pretty packed for such a small place and Dylan saw that a several tables had been pushed together to allow several adults to sit together. Alongside them, kids packed together in booths, all of them chattering excitedly as a waitress bustled about them taking orders.

"Hey there, you with them?"

Dylan looked up to see a red-haired woman in a pink waitress uniform looking down at his. Her jaws worked a small piece of gum as she peered down at him through eyes heavily ringed with red eyeshadow.

"Yeah."

"Alright. Why doncha sit down and we'll get you somethin' good. Huh, where will you fit?"

"I wanna sit by myself." Dylan dodged around the waitress and took a seat at a small booth several feet away from the group.

"You sure? Your parents don't mind?"

"My grandma lets me."

"Oh." The waitress's eyes flicked over at the group, where several older woman were seated among couples. "Which one's your grandma, hon?"

"She's over there." Dylan pointed in the groups' direction as he gave the waitress his trademark scowl. "And she doesn't like people asking her questions."

The waitress frowned and started to say something, but a call from the kitchen caused her to snap her head around.

"Hey, Carol, how many pitchers of apple and orange juice ya need?"

"One second." With a sigh, Carol turned back to Dylan. "You want apple or orange juice?"

"I want chocolate milk!"

"Of course. You and about five others." Carol sighed again and then shrugged. "Oh well, you're the customer and if your grandma's payin', I ain't complainin'."

"Good. Grandma doesn't like it when people say I can't have something."

"I pity those people." Carol left Dylan's booth and headed back into the kitchen. Dylan slipped his winter clothes off and set them next to him, stretching out in the red padded seat as he did. Thankfully, the group of adults and their kids hadn't noticed him, nor had they said anything about Dylan not being part of their group. Exactly what kind of group they were, Dylan didn't know and didn't care; all he knew was that they were paying for their and all the other kids' food, so as long as he pretended he was with the group, he could finally have the breakfast he wanted!

A small plastic menu was laying on the table by Dylan's elbow and the boy glanced down at the options for pancakes. He saw chocolate chips pancakes listed, but nothing about them being chocolate. Well, then, he'd just have to ask for them special! This was a restaurant, after all, and Grandma had said restaurants had to make whatever their customers wanted.

"Here you go!" Carol had returned with a large glass filled to the brim with rich brown milk, chocolate syrup streaks still visible on the sides. "Know what you want to eat?"

"I want chocolate pancakes!"

"You want the chocolate chip pancakes?"

"I want the chocolate chips, but I want the pancakes to be chocolate too!"

"Uh... I don't know if we make those."

"You just make the batter chocolate!" Dylan rolled his eyes; why was that so difficult for people to understand?

"Well, we do have cocoa powder for hot chocolate, but-"

"Excuse me, this is not fresh!" One of the older women at the long table was holding up her cup of coffee and looking very angry. "You would think even a small place like this could provide fresh coffee!"

"Sorry, ma'am, I'll fix that!" one of the other waitresses called as she served out glasses of juice to a table full of yelling children.

"See that you do! I'm paying for a good breakfast, so I expect a good breakfast."

"See?" Dylan sneered up at Carol. "You have to."

"Guessing that's your grandma, huh?" Once again, Carol heaved a heavy sigh, but nodded. "Alright, I'm sure we can figure that out for you. You want butter and maple syrup?"

"No, I just want chocolate syrup on them. Lots of chocolate syrup."

"If you say so, but don't come cryin' to me when you got yourself a bellyache." Carol was jotting Dylan's order down on a small pad of paper, her teeth gnawing at her gum like a rat. "Kids' pancakes come with eggs or sausage and some fruit. We got berries, apples-"

"I don't want any of that. I just want chocolate pancakes."

"Alrighty. They'll be ready soon."

"Good. I'm hungry!"

Clearly so were the other kids in the diner, because they were yelling and shrieking like mad. Some of the kids seemed well-behaved enough, merely wriggling a bit in their seats and chatting with each other. But at least half of the kid tables were a mess of straw wrappers, shredded napkins, and half-eaten packets of jelly and jam. Some of the kids were even standing up on their seats, gleefully bouncing on the thick padding as their friends laughed hysterically and blew bubbles in their drinks. The adults, meanwhile, cast the occasional disapproving glance in their direction or asked the more rowdy of the bunch to settle down before returning to their own conversations. Meanwhile, waitresses raced about handing out more napkins, cleaning up debris, and mopping up spills (of which there were many) while making sure every child was given the necessary refill before they could start shouting for more juice or milk.

Dylan leaned back in his seat, wishing he could at least watch TV while he ate. That would have been perfect, but at least he wasn't going to be totally bored. Reaching into his backpack, Dylan pushed aside the small bag of fruit Mrs. Ladybug had given him with a grimace. Stupid fruit, what did he want that for? Grinning, Dylan pulled out a slightly tattered comic book whose cover was decorated with human bodies bursting with multicolored slime. The terrified humans were racing down a city street as they tried in vain to keep their limbs and eyeballs in place and Dylan only wished the same thing would happen to the teachers in his school. Huh, James should have tried to make that happen instead of growing a stupid peach and stupid bugs.

Well, James was stupid. He went to school and he was still stupid! Everyone in the school was stupid except him! Dylan snickered as he flipped open his comic book to see more scenes of humans bursting into goo. In fact, they were all so stupid, Dylan was certain none of them had realized how he'd managed to leave. But that had been easy. Dylan had seen a cool movie where a killer hid in a bathroom and stood on a toilet cover until the person he was going to stab was alone. And because the lady hadn't seen the killer's feet, she'd thought she was alone and then she got killed! Remembering that, Dylan had run into the school bathroom and stood on the wooden toilet seat inside one of the locked stalls. Thankfully, only one or two kids had come in to use the bathroom before the bell rang and none of them knew he was there. Still, Dylan had waited until the last bell rang and the morning announcements started before climbing down from his perch and peering out into the hall. As he suspected, no one was there and it had been the work of a moment to run for the front door and to freedom.

And now that he was free, Dylan had no intention of ever going back. Not back to school, not back to the weird bug house, not back to anything he didn't want. In fact, Dylan decided he's do nothing, but fun things today and no one was going to stop him!

But what could he do today? Rummaging around in his bag, Dylan scowled as he realized he didn't see any money. While he didn't have an allowance (he didn't need one; Grandma always got him whatever he wanted), Grandma sometimes gave him some money "just in case" he needed it when she was busy. That usually meant that when they went to a store, Dylan could go and buy candy or a comic book while she got what she needed. But the last time Grandma gave him money was right before she got sick and when Dylan had to go to the hospital with him that first time, he'd spent all of his money at the snack bar. He'd been able to buy a huge supply of cookies and chips then (and good thing he did), but none of the stupid bugs had offered him money. Hmm, he should have told Grandma that because she'd have made them give him money, but he'd forgotten when he'd gone to see her.

Great, without money, he couldn't go to the movies or buy snacks or anything like that. Dylan scowled; so much for a day of fun stuff. What was he supposed to do now?

"Here you go, kid. Chocolate pancakes with chocolate syrup."

Dylan sat up and licked his lips as Carol the waitress set a plate of steaming brown cakes in front of him. The heavy sweet smell of coca-infused bread and warmed chocolate syrup hit Dylan's nose like a sledgehammer and he seized his fork in a chubby fist to lift a whole pancake to his mouth.

"Who, easy there. You sure you don't wanna cut that?" Carol had also brought Dylan a refill on his chocolate milk and she raised her eyebrows in concern as Dylan bit into the first pancake, tearing pieces of the sweet pastry off with his teeth and shoveling any falling pieces into his mouth with his other hand.

"No!"

"Huh, suit yourself." Carol walked away, though she couldn't help muttering,

"Manners. Some kids, I swear."

Dylan ignored her, too focused on the rich chocolatey taste that was flooding his mouth. They might not have been Grandma's pancakes, but these were good! And he'd already gone days without having them, something he'd never done before in his life. But the stupid bugs wouldn't make him chocolate pancakes and Dylan was sure they wouldn't have let him buy candy at the store either. Huh, good thing they never tried to take him to a store; Dylan couldn't imagine how boring it would be to go to a store when he couldn't buy comic books and candy.

Dylan frowned as a new thought occurred to him. Maybe he couldn't buy comic books or candy or anything like that, but that didn't mean he couldn't get them, right? After all, he had his chocolate pancakes and he didn't have to pay for them, right? Maybe he could do the same with other stuff he wanted.

Dylan slurped at his chocolate milk as the plan began to take shape in his mind. He knew he couldn't stay with the group in the next room; they would probably get all upset at having to help him get something to eat and then even tattle on him to the school and the stupid bugs. Like the gangster on the crime shows, Dylan knew he'd have to get away from the diner before the group finished so they wouldn't be able to find him. He wasn't happy about having to walk, but Dylan always loved watching the gangster make their escape on TV. True, most of the gangsters had cars, but sometimes, they'd have to run away from the police and avoid flashlights and dogs and stuff! That always looked fun and the gangsters usually got away from the dumb police in the end. Ok, sure, some of them got caught, but they were usually the idiots who deserved to be caught. Dylan did not deserve to be caught!

Alright, so he would finish his pancakes and then escape. After that? Well, maybe he could find a big department store and hide out there. Dylan would have preferred to go to a movie theater, but unless there was a school field trip or something, he wasn't sure what other groups he could sneak into. But that was okay; some of the department stores had TVs you could watch and candy and cookies and all kinds of stuff. Plus, they were usually really crowded, so Dylan wouldn't have to stay with a group.

Glancing down at his comic, Dylan grinned at the sight of a couple whose heads were leaking what looked like melted cottage cheese. Gross, but if they wanted to eat cottage cheese, serve them right. Grandma ate cottage cheese, but she was an old lady who liked old lady food. He was a kid and he liked kid food. Dylan frowned; did that mean James liked bug food? He must, seeing as how he lived with bugs. Dylan wrinkled his nose; bug food was gross! No wonder James was so stupid.

Dylan's self-righteous musing failed to remind him of the numerous plates of toast and jam Miss Spider had made for him only the day before.

Gulping down the last of his pancakes and milk, Dylan stuffed his comic book back into his bag and pulled on his coat and hat. Leaning forward, Dylan observed his fellow diners. The delivery of their meals had calmed the kids down somewhat, but Dylan could see many of them were starting to get bored with their food. Some of them were sword fighting with pieces of bacon and others were flicking eggs at each other. The adults, meanwhile, ignored the kids and simply ate their own meals, but one of them turned to glare at one of the tables as a stray piece of egg hit the back of his head. A few of the waitresses were trying to stay ahead of the mess, but most of the workers, Carol included, had retreated to the safety of the kitchen where they could complain about their current customers in peace.

Dylan didn't care what the waitresses were doing, so long as they weren't looking at him. Sliding from the booth, Dylan shouldered his bag and slipped out the front door. Thanks to a loud burst of laughter as a pancake was thrown onto the ceiling, no one so much as glanced in Dylan's direction as the nine-year-old darted away from the diner and around the corner. The cold air stung Dylan's exposed face, but he still grinned as he bounced along the sidewalk, forcing passing adults to duck around him as he galloped past. Skidding to a halt, Dylan joined a large group of adults crossing the street and ducked down another street that was lined with blinking storefronts. Good, no one from the diner would find him now!

Dylan looked around, tilting his head. Wait, he knew this place. He and Grandma came to this part of the city to shop sometimes and while they usually came in a taxi, Dylan was sure they always passed by the store with the green and purple sign. Trotting up the street, Dylan soon spotted the large staircase leading into a multi-level department store, the very kind he'd been hoping to find. And even better, Dylan knew there was a great toy store with TVs showing cartoons at the back. Good, now he could sit and watch TV for a while. Too bad the good stuff didn't come on until afternoon, but cartoons were fun too. Dylan just hoped there was plenty of fighting and shotting and nothing girly or dumb.

The wind whipped around Dylan again and he broke into another run, panting for air and feeling a stitch in his side and a weight in his middle. Ugh, he couldn't wait to sit down; Dylan hated running, which was why Grandma always wrote him notes when it was time for gym. Plus, he hated being cold and couldn't wait to sit somewhere warm and comfy while he watched TV and ate cookies or candy. And if the grownups at the store were like the waitress at the diner, getting the food he wanted would be easy. All he had to do if asked was point to a random woman and say she was his mother or grandmother and that she was going to pay, but had said he could eat now. And that was only if someone saw him take anything. If they didn't, that was their fault.

Smiling from ear to ear, Dylan stepped into the warm department store. He was very much looking forward to the day ahead of him and not once did he consider the problem he had caused by running away from school nor the consequences of that action.

Nor, in fact, did Dylan consider how horrible the weather would soon become and how that would affect his plans.