For all my lovely fans who are still following this story, first of all, hi. It's probably been awhile. But I decided to overhaul this story to get it closer to what I wanted it to be. All previous chapters are updated with the edited version. I hope you enjoy. :)

If anybody wants a copy of the old story, PM me.

They were up early, and by the time the sun rose, they were on their way to the next venue. After they were properly awake, the musicians began to talk about anything that came to mind. James was still blinking away sleep and began tapping on his cast. Oliver peered over the bus seat and looked at him.

"Hey, James?"

James turned to smile at him. "Yes, Oliver?" he asked politely.

"What happened to your wrist?"

Mr. Grasshopper turned in his seat as James's smile faded and he squirmed. After a few moments of hesitation, he looked up at Mr. Grasshopper then answered.

"I-I fell out of a tree."

Oliver studied him. "Really?"

James looked down and squirmed again. "Yes."

"Huh." Oliver leaned forward. "Funny. I fell out of a tree once, too."

James glanced up. "Really?"

Oliver nodded. "Yeah. Only I didn't think it was fair that the tree pushed me."

James looked up as Mr. Grasshopper snorted and spoke. "Impossible. A tree cannot push anybody. It is a plant."

"Oh, I agree completely, Mr. Grasshopper." He leaned on his arm. "So who broke your wrist, James?"

A blush spread up James's cheeks and he curled into himself as he lowered his eyes to the floor.

"James?" Veronica asked gently.

"Leave the boy alone," Mr. Grasshopper said, a harsh bite in his normally kind voice.

"What was your tree's name, Oliver?" James asked softly.

Oliver smiled. "Raymond Smith. And yours?"

"Thomas Jones," After a few moments of silence, James looked out the window of the bus and admitted, "And all the boys who follow him. But it's mostly Thomas."

Heather seat-hopped over to sit beside James and reached over to pat his shoulder. James looked up shyly, and Heather smiled.

"I had a tree, too. Her name was Tabitha Harrison. She never broke my bones, but she was a terror."

Veronica leaned on the back of the bus seat and sighed. "Samantha Taylor gave me a black eye once."

Bastian looked up into the mirror and met James's eyes. "Rodney Clark."

Mr. Grasshopper was very still and he watched as James relaxed. He'd never thought to ask about his troupe's childhoods, and to find out that they had been bullied made him feel warmer toward them. It was a curious sensation.

"So you've all been… pushed out of trees?" James asked hesitantly.

"Everybody has at one point," Heather said, shrugging.

The others nodded, and Oliver looked up from James's face to peer at Mr. Grasshopper. The insect grew flustered and quickly looked away. He didn't want to be asked, didn't want to remember the pain and fear and humiliation.

Oliver continued to stare then cleared his throat. "I might have a solution for your tree problem, James."

Mr. Grasshopper looked up at those words. "You do? What would that be?"

"Well, you know I'm a boxer, Mr. Grasshopper, and I was just thinking. I could give James a few pointers on how to dissuade this Thomas from knocking him out of trees again."

James looked up, a flash of hope in his eyes. "Boxing? With the gloves? Like they do in gyms?"

Oliver smiled and showed off a neat jab. "Yep. But it'll take discipline and practice. And if you're going to continue with an instructor, a bit of money. I don't know everything."

After considering Oliver's offer, James looked up at Mr. Grasshopper. "Of course, Mrs. Ladybug and Miss Spider wouldn't like it," he said.

"You leave them to me," Mr. Grasshopper said. "Besides, a few rudimentary lessons wouldn't go astray. I'll talk to them when we get home. If, that is, you still wish to pursue the sport past the initial lessons."

James's whole face lit up. "Oh really and truly? I can learn boxing?"

"For now," Mr. Grasshopper promised.

The boy sat up straight and beamed. "Then yes, Oliver. I would like for you to teach me."

Mr. Grasshopper watched as Oliver smiled then sobered up as he explained about how boxing was a discipline and should be taken seriously. Just like when Mr. Grasshopper had told him about his rank as Lesser, James was serious and intent as he listened and nodded and asked questions. The rest of the bus ride was spent talking about boxing, the history of the sport, the different types of strikes, and the importance of balance in training and life. James and Mr. Grasshopper both listened and even Heather and Veronica had some questions. At the end of it all, Oliver promised to teach James a bit before bed each night. James and Mr. Grasshopper agreed, and the schedule was set.

All in all, it was a good day of travel, but they were relieved to park at a motel and get out for the night. It was a small motel, but it was immaculately clean and it even had breakfast in the mornings. After traveling all day, they ate a greasy dinner at a diner and went back into their rooms. Oliver taught James the basics for half an hour, then he bid James goodnight and headed for his own room. Mr. Grasshopper looked up from his book as James plopped down beside him after a short shower, rubbing at his casted wrist.

"Was the exercise too strenuous for you, James?" Mr. Grasshopper asked.

"It's just a little sore," James said. "I used far too much force the last strike. Even the air can beat me right now." He sat up straight, his eyes glinting. "But not for long, Mr. Grasshopper. No sir!"

Mr. Grasshopper grinned. "Well then, the air won't stand a chance in the next day or two."

They both shared a laugh. James glanced at his guardian and shifted. "Mr. Grasshopper? May I ask you a question?"

"Certainly," the insect replied, setting aside his book.

"Well, I was just wondering," James said slowly. "Who was your tree?"

Mr. Grasshopper sat still, his eyes focused on nothing. As the seconds turned to minutes, James began to wonder if he'd said something wrong. After several minutes of silence, James cleared his throat.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Grasshopper. I shouldn't have asked."

"Hm?" Mr. Grasshopper focused on James. "Oh, no, my dear boy. There's no need to apologize. I don't mind the question. It's just so difficult to translate names from the insect tongues. I cannot for the life of me figure out how to say my own name, and I've had several years to puzzle it out. It's simply not possible."

"It isn't?" James asked curiously.

"I don't think it is. In fact, that is the reason we bugs decided that we would go by our species names instead of making up a human name. We were offered that chance before we signed the papers to be your guardians. It felt disingenuous to give ourselves names like that, names that we would never truly feel comfortable answering to. So if we were to be called anything, our species name was what we wanted to be known as, with a proper British twist of politeness of course, courtesy of you."

James's infectious smile was back, and he gazed at Mr. Grasshopper with wonder. "May I ask what your name is?"

Mr. Grasshopper smiled back. Then, without opening his mouth, and odd hiccuping chirrup came out of the back of his throat with a grating undertone that sent a shiver of delight up James's back.

"That's your name?" James asked.

"It is," Mr. Grasshopper said.

"Wow." James shook his head then gave a rueful laugh. "I don't think I'd ever be able to say that."

"You're not designed to," Mr. Grasshopper said. "And Mr. Grasshopper will do just fine, James."

James kicked his feet then looked over. "Since you can't translate his name, can we give your tree a human name?"

"I'd say that's agreeable," Mr. Grasshopper said. "What do you have in mind?"

After several minutes of thought, James sat up. "I've never particularly liked the name Gary."

Mr. Grasshopper nodded. "Then we shall call my tree Gary." He chuckled heartily to himself. "They are bullies, not trees. All the people mentioned today were bullies. But I like that we can call them something far less threatening."

"Can I ask what Gary did to you? I mean, Thomas pushes me around and hits me. But grasshoppers can't punch people."

Mr. Grasshopper's smile faded, and he deflated. His four hands rested in his lap, and he swallowed hard as he looked away. "May I be frank, James?" he asked softly.

"Of course, Mr. Grasshopper. I would like for you to always be frank with me," James said, his own mood sobering.

"I don't particularly wish to talk about Gary at the moment, if that is alright with you."

"Well then," James said, smiling. "I believe we should go to bed. We have to get up early tomorrow. Thank you for talking with me, Mr. Grasshopper."

Mr. Grasshopper relaxed and ruffled James's hair. "It was a good talk. But you're right. To bed. I'm very tired."

They got situated in bed and Mr. Grasshopper turned off the lights. James quickly fell asleep.

Sometime later, he was awoken very suddenly by a strange noise. He sat up in the dark room and reached for Mr. Grasshopper, but the bed was empty. As he peered around, he saw that the bathroom light was on. The strange noise seemed to be coming from there. It was a rasping sound, dry and wet at the same time. Frightened, James jumped up and hurried over to the door.

"Mr. Grasshopper?" James asked, tapping sharply on the door. "Mr. Grasshopper, is everything alright?"

The rasping changed and seemed to stutter then stopped for a moment. "I'll be okay in a few minutes, James. Please go back to bed."

James stood there as the rasping sound began again, and there was a soft groan of discomfort from behind the door. Was Mr. Grasshopper in pain? What was happening? The boy didn't know what to do, but after a minute, the rasping stopped. When the silence stretched on, James tiptoed back to the bed and laid down on his side, unable to relax.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the toilet flushed and Mr. Grasshopper came out of the bathroom and crawled back into bed. James could feel the insect trembling as he pulled the blankets over himself. The boy turned and gave the insect a big hug. Mr. Grasshopper stiffened then patted his arm.

"It's alright now, James. Everything is just fine. You can go back to sleep."

James kept hugging him until the trembling stopped then he squeezed him. "Goodnight, Mr. Grasshopper," James said quietly.

"Goodnight, James. Sleep well. And I'm sorry for disturbing you."

"As long as you're alright," James whispered.

"I am. I promise."

James turned over and relaxed into the bed, resting his head on his cool pillow. Despite his worry about whatever had just happened, he was so tired from traveling all day that he simply couldn't stay awake to fret over it. Before he knew it, he was drifting to sleep again, and he lost himself in a web of dreams.