Ch. 26
Author's Note: I looked up inflation to determine the prices you see in this chapter. The book "James and the Giant Peach" was published in the late 60s while the movie is set in the late 40s, so I split the difference and set the inflation calculator to reflect prices in the 50s. 50 cents would be just over $6.00 today and $2.00 would be about $25.00
Thanks to the upcoming storm, the department store was packed full of last-minute shoppers who had all, it seemed, decided that the few hours before a massive blizzard was the ideal time for shopping. Men and women hustled back and forth between the stores, all of them lugging an increasing number of bags and packages as they did. Bread, milk, and eggs were flying off the shelves as other customers fought for fresh meat and vegetables as often as they did for canned goods and hygiene products. Clothing stores were fast emptying as new coats, gloves, and boots were all but yanked off hangers, racks, and even mannequins. Hardware outlets were already pointing to the empty cases that had once housed snow shovels as customers ranted and raved about the amount of snow that they were expecting and asking the employees just how they were supposed to clear their walkways once the weather had calmed. Meanwhile, other stores were closing as fast as they could in the hopes that the angry customers wouldn't turn their wrath on them as janitors worked hard to keep the floors clean and dry.
It was in the midst of this chaos that Dylan found himself. All in all, though, the boy didn't really care about the other people in the department store. True, being jostled about was a bit annoying, but the boy knew that being one face in a crowd was the easiest way to hide. Gangsters and murderers did that all the time on TV and the stupid police never seemed to figure out how they did it. And anyway, police didn't work in department stores like this one, so Dylan knew he was safe. Already, he was scanning the stores for treats and was finding himself a bit annoyed at how many of them were closing. Oh well, hopefully the toy store wasn't closed.
Dylan scowled as he trudged down the long hallway. Why was the toy store near the back of the department store? It took forever to walk there and Dylan was tired. Whenever he came here with his grandmother, she always let him take breaks whenever he wanted and would buy him a candy bar to "keep his energy up." Looking around, Dylan spotted a nearby store with a rack of candy at the front. Said store was packed full of customers at the three different cash registers and Dylan was certain they wouldn't pay attention to him if he took some candy.
Sneaking over to the open doorway, Dylan waited until the space near his favorite candy bar was free, then darted over and grabbed one. The wrapper crinkled under his chubby fist and Dylan couldn't resist tearing the bright paper off the chocolatey treat.
"Um, that's 50 cents." One of the cashiers, a young woman, had spotted the boy standing off to the side with his stolen prize.
"My mom said I could take it and she'd pay for it when it was her turn. I was hungry."
"Who's your mom?"
"Her." Dylan pointed down the line toward a woman whose arms were loaded with packages.
"The woman in the black coat?"
"Yeah. She said I could eat this and that I could wait for her outside."
"Well, we're not really supposed to-"
"Miss, can you hurry up? I want to get out of the store!" The next customer in line was busy placing his purchases on the counter. The cashier sighed and began ringing up the man's order.
"Alright, I'll let your mom know you're outside. But going forward, you have to pay for candy before you eat it. I'll let this slide, but I'll remind your mom of the rule."
"Okay."
"And don't go far. It's busy and I don't want you getting swept up in this crowd."
Mom said I could."
"Look, the kid says he's fine. Can you please hurry up?"
"Yes, sir." The cashier went back to ringing up the man's items as Dylan stepped out of the store. Snickering, he bit into the candy bar, savoring the taste of gooey chocolate, caramel and peanuts. Without a second thought, Dylan started walking toward the toy store again, his jaws working over the candy the way a cow munches a mouthful of grass. Stupid store worker; she must be really easy to trick! Huh, that was even easier than it looked on TV! Dylan loved watching how gangsters and crooks stole stuff from stores, but usually, they just broke a window and grabbed as much stuff as they could before the police showed up. But pretending someone else was going to pay for what he wanted was even better because it just proved to Dylan what he had long since known: he was way smarter than everyone else! Grandma had said so and now Dylan knew that being so smart meant he could trick people into getting him whatever he wanted.
Now who else could he trick today?
Bright lights came into view and the sounds of jangly music and laughter grew louder as Dylan finally spotted the massive toy store. The doorway alone took up nearly the entire back wall and was decorated with pictures of toy soldiers and red-cheeked ragdolls. The huge glass windows hosted everything from balls and bats to train sets and dollhouses. Just inside the doorway, shelves full of stuffed animals awaited a pair of children's arms while boxes of brand new action figures and plastic dolls stood in eye-catching displays. But Dylan could see that, just past the displays of toys, there was a wooden wall with the words "Kids' Corner" painted in brightly-colored letters. Yes, this was the place!
Trotting inside, Dylan made his way past all of the toys (stopping only to admire some rugged-looking army men toting huge guns) and followed the wall to its end. There was a small archway that led into a roomy area with white walls and a red carpet. A few toys- mostly wooden blocks and a few stuffed animals- were scattered about, but the main attraction was the set of TVs, each a few feet apart. Every one of the TVs was playing something different, ranging from something made by Walt Disney to reruns of cartoons that Dylan only had a vague notion of. The opposite side of the white wall had a built-in cushioned bench set against it and a few kids were seated on it, their eyes glued to one of the TVs showing two boys and a small dog racing away from some kind of weird creatures. Ok, well, that looked interesting, at least. And Dylan was surprised to see there was another strange-looking cartoon showing cars speeding around a track, one of which looked like it was trying to blow up the others. Now that looked like fun. Dylan was about to sit down and watch when he noticed some of the kids were eating ice cream or drinking milkshakes.
"Where'd you get those?" he asked the group.
"Over there," one of them, a boy who looked about Dylan's age said, pointing to his left. Dylan looked over and saw what was obviously a new addition to the Kids' Corner. A snack bar, complete with a soda fountain, ice cream case, and bakery shelf, had been built off to the other side of the arched doorway and a young man wearing a white cap and a rep-and-white striped apron was standing by the counter. Behind him was a shelf full of plastic bowls, tall cups, and a whole medley of ice cream toppings. A small wooden sign listing available treats and their prices was set against the counter, but it was the bigger sign attached to the counter itself that captured Dylan's attention.
KIDS EAT NOW! PARENTS PAY LATER!
"Hey there, kid," the young man behind the counter greeted with a smile as Dylan walked up to him. "Mom and Dad busy shopping?"
"Yeah. They said I could get what I wanted."
"Figured on that. Just tell me your name." The cashier had pulled out a small book.
"Why?"
"You've never been here before?"
"No." Which, Dylan reasoned, wasn't really a lie. He had sat and watched the TVs, but he hadn't been to this snack bar before.
"Ahh. Well, when your parents send you over here, you gotta hang out here till they come get you. We take down your name and then you're free to order what you like here and we keep track of it. Then, when your parents show up, they tell us who they're looking for and we tell them what they owe and they pay."
"So I have to stay here?"
"Well, if you order something, yeah because we gotta make sure your parents know they have to pa for any food. I mean, if you wanna look around first, go ahead, but usually if you get sent over to the Kids' Corner, it's 'cause your mom and dad want you staying in one place. Still, if they're okay with you lookin' at the toys first-"
"No, I wanna watch TV and I want ice cream."
"Alrighty, no problem. What's your name?"
"Johnny." That was the name the gangsters on Dylan's favorite show used when they were trying to blend in. They did that because there were a lot of people in the world named Johnny.
"Uh-huh. And your last name?"
"...Trotter."
"Trotter? Like the Mayor's son?"
"Yeah."
"Huh. Didn't know he had relatives."
"Can I have my ice cream now?"
"Sure. What do you want?"
"A big sundae. The biggest one you got!"
"O-kay." The young man frowned for a moment. "That's gonna be about $2.00; you sure your parents are okay with that?"
"Yeah! They said!"
"Well, alright." The young man shrugged, wrote down the name Dylan gave him, then pulled on a pair of plastic gloves. "You're the customer."
"I know!"
"So, what kind of ice cream and what toppings?"
"I want chocolate ice cream. And mint chocolate chip too."
"Alright." The young man deftly scooped out the requested flavors, depositing decadent chocolate and fresh-smelling mint ice cream into the sundae bowl. "What toppings?"
"Hot fudge and caramel and chocolate chips and sprinkles and lots of whipped cream."
"Lots of whipped cream. Okay, here you go."
The young man carefully handed over the large sundae to Dylan, who eagerly snatched it out of his hands.
"Spoons and napkins are off to the side. I'll let you know what your parents show up. And hey, maybe your cousin will be with them too. I'd be happy to serve Mayor Centipede's kid!"
Dylan ignored the young man, paused only long enough to grab a plastic spoon, and carefully carried his ice cream back to the row of TVs. The other kids hadn't moved and the shows were still running. Dylan took a seat in between the two TVs with the racing cars and the adventuring boys. That way, if one show got boring, he could just watch the other. It was too bad that the remotes for the TVs were nowhere in sight; Dylan would have liked to be able to switch to the channel that showed his favorite shows, but they probably weren't on yet. Oh well; Dylan didn't mind waiting and anyway, he had his ice cream!
Digging into the massive sundae, Dylan shoveled spoonful after spoonful of ice cream into his mouth as he watched the TV screens. The boys and their dog were saved by two men in a cool airplane while the race cars were neck in neck to win the final race as the people in the crowds cheered and waved flags. As he ate, Dylan found himself lulled into the familiar trance of utter bliss he hadn't felt since he was back home. It was almost as though he were floating and he barely noticed his eyes blinking as the images on the screen seemed to float in front of his face. Unlike at the peach house, where the stupid bugs were always yelling at him, the only noise came from the TVs and Dylan could almost feel the sounds taking over his mind and wiping away everything else. Nothing else existed except what was right in front of him and Dylan automatically ate as the images on the screen played until his eyes were as glazed as the donuts offered at the Kids' Corner snack bar.
One by one, the other kids finished their own treats and were soon called away from the TV screens by their parents. The young man at the snack bar checked the names against his list and the adults shoppers paid the outstanding bills and led their children away, many of them leaving a small coin or two in the young man's tip jar. A few new children joined Dylan at the TVs, but they either got a small cookie or donut and were soon summoned back to their parents' sides. Dylan ignored them entirely, barely noticing when new episodes of each show came on and only snapping out of his reverie when his spoon scraped the bottom of his bowl. Scowling, Dylan lapped up as much of the melted ice cream and toppings as he could with his tongue and dragged his arm across his mouth. A decent amount of sticky residue still coated his face, but Dylan didn't mind that as much as he minded being out of ice cream. True, he didn't really feel hungry anymore (in fact, he was feeling more full than he had in a long time), but Dylan knew he still wanted to keep eating. And anyway, he needed to make up for the stupid bugs starving him, so even if he wasn't super hungry, he needed more food.
"Whoa, you must have been hungry." The young man at the counter looked amused when he saw Dylan coming back to him with the empty bowl.
"I want more."
"More? That was a lot of ice cream, kid; I don't know if your mother would want you having more."
"I can if I want to!"
"Easy there; if it's okay with her, it's fine with me. But do you really think you're going to eat another whole sundae?"
"Yeah!"
"Uh-huh." The young man peered down at Dylan with a raised eyebrow. "Where is your mom right now, kid?"
"Shopping!"
"Yeah, but when's she gonna be back? We're gonna be closing soon, you know."
"Why? It's not late."
"Because of the storm," the young man said with a slightly amused chuckle.
"What storm?"
"Kid, you been livin' under a rock? We're about to get hit with a massive snow storm and freezing temperatures. People aren't supposed to be out tonight because the weather's gonna be so bad."
"Can I have my ice cream now?"
"I think we should ask your mom first."
"She said I can have ice cream!"
"And you did. But if you want more-"
"You gotta gimmie more! Grandma said so!"
"Grandma? I thought you said your mother was with you."
"And so's Grandma!"
"Uh-huh. Listen, why don't we-"
"I WANT MY ICE CREAM!" In a fit of temper, Dylan threw his dirty ice cream dish at the server. Thankfully, Dylan's aim was as bad as his temper and the stained bowl soared past the young man's head and clattered against the back counter. Unfortunately, while the employee was safe from the plastic missile, the bowl ended up knocking some milkshake glasses and a canister of hot fudge to the ground, caking the tiled floor in a gooey brown mess.
"HEY!"
"I WANT MY ICE CREAM!"
"Kid, the only thing you're getting is a trip to the security office!" The young man was already running around the counter as a good number of shoppers stood watching with wide eyes. Dylan didn't hesitate and darted off to the side. A few of the shoppers made a grab for the boy, but Dylan dodged them and ran toward the center of the toy store.
"STOP HIM!" The young man was already giving chase, pointing a finger at Dylan's fleeing form. Most of the crowd remained too stunned to react, but a few gave chase. Two men and a woman ran after Dylan and they were a good deal faster than the chunky nine-year-old. One of them reached for Dylan's arm, but the boy quickly ducked around an aisle and past a row of stuffed animals. Near the end of the aisle was a large tower of pink boxes, each one containing a Barbie doll in a poofy pink dress. Remembering a scene from a movie he'd seen a few times, Dylan flung his arms out and slammed them into the towering boxes, sending them toppling to the floor. The people chasing him yelped as pink containers rained down on them, the smiling Barbies rattling in their plastic prisons. The distraction was enough for Dylan to dodge around several more aisles and duck into a nearby bathroom which was, thankfully, empty.
Breathing hard, his stomach churning with the weight of sweets inside it, Dylan jumped into the first stall and pulled the door shut. As he had done at school, Dylan climbed up onto the toilet seat and squatted down on his heels. Outside, footsteps pounded past the bathroom door along with loud complaints from people being shoved to the side by the stampede. The bathroom door remained closed, however, and Dylan took the time to catch his breath and wait for the noise outside to quell. His stomach was roiling a bit and Dylan had to sit down on the covered toilet to fully catch his breath. Still, no one entered the bathroom and Dylan fit safe enough to peer outside the stall door. The white-tiled room was deserted and the quiet stillness was broken only by the tap of Dylan's sneakers on the hard floor. Dylan moved closer to the door and listened; while he could still hear footsteps and chatter outside, the people chasing him had either given up or believed he had left the toy store.
A grin spread across Dylan's sticky face. Hah, he had pulled off another trick and now he was free! Well, okay, not quite free but Dylan had little doubt he could easily escape the toy store and get away from any of the stupid security the guy at the Kids' Corner was talking about. Huh, no one could catch the gangsters on TV and Dylan knew he was just as good as them! Now, all he had to do was sneak out the front door and he'd be just fine!
Cracking open the bathroom door, Dylan spied out into the main store. The bathroom door was set back against the far wall and stood facing two aisles. Off to the far left, the boy spotted the mess of Barbie boxes and several employees were directing customers around the mess as they tried to set the scattered toys back in order. Thankfully, the closest employee had his back to Dylan and was bending over trying to retrieve as many pink boxes as he could. Dylan slid out of the bathroom door and ducked down the next aisle, which was empty except for the display of stuffed animals. Dylan passed by them, scowling at the black button eyes that all seemed to be staring reproachfully at him.
"What are you starin' at?" he asked one of them in his best gangster voice. The toy in question, a white unicorn with blue eyes and a golden horn, made no comment as it remained perched on the shelf as Dylan strutted by. The boy stuck his tongue out at the unicorn as he passed. Stupid girly toy; he hoped it fell and ripped its horn! Ha, that'd be funny! In fact, the only thing funnier would be if James's stupid stuffed otter got ripped up too!
Coming to the end of the aisle, Dylan saw the door leading out of the toy store as well as the front register. By this point, there were a ton of people waiting in line and not a whole lot of people coming in. Okay then, Dylan knew what to do, thanks to TV. Narrowing his piggy eyes, Dylan scanned the groups of people until he spotted a fat woman with about five kids- three of whom were crying- near the front of the line. Dylan slinked out across the floor and stood just behind the group of kids, sneering at the red-faced and snot-nosed kids who were pulling at their mother's clothes. The mother rolled her eyes and ignored them, not bothering to say a word until they had reached the register.
"Go outside and wait for me there," she instructed in a tired voice, her expression of indifference never wavering as she began setting out her purchases on the counter. Still crying, the kids began pushing and shoving each other to be the first to make it out the door. Dylan remained with them, snagging another few candy bars from the counter's front rack as two of the crying kids began pulling each other's hair. Dylan shoved past them, nearly knocking one of the to the ground and turned back to see said crying kid promptly punch his equally upset brother in the eye. This caused an even bigger ruckus and Dylan could barely contain his laughter as he dug into his newly-acquired candy. That was too perfect and almost exactly like his favorite show. When you had to get away, attach yourself to a larger group and start a fight so that everyone sees that and not you! Huh, stupid Miss Hart always said he wouldn't learn anything from TV and boy was she wrong!
Alright, now what? Well, Dylan thought, all that ice cream had made him thirsty and the candy was making him thirstier still. He knew stores like this probably had water fountains, but Dylan found himself scowling again as he remembered how there had been a soda fountain at the Kids' Corner. The stupid man there had given him ice cream, but nothing to drink! Wasn't he supposed to offer customers a drink too? Dylan thought that was the rule when you got food from somewhere and the dumb guy had broken the rule! Well, he'd probably get in trouble for that, so no big deal. Now, where could he get some soda of his own? Looking around, Dylan was surprised to see that a lot more stores has closed and the hallways were looking a lot less crowded. That was strange, but... wait, the stupid man at the Kids' Corner had said something about a storm, right? Huh, Dylan didn't know why people were so worried; it wasn't like it had never snowed before! Well, that just meant everyone was even more stupid than he thought! But now, everyone else being stupid meant that the stores with soda and candy would probably be closing soon too.
Dylan bit into his last candy bar as he considered this newest problem. Where could he go now that would have candy and cookies and soda? He still didn't have any money, so he couldn't go to the movies. Hmm, what about a different store? Maybe, but he wasn't sure where he could find one. And what if all the stores in New York were gonna close 'cause they were scared of the storm? Then what was he supposed to do? Where else could he go that had good food and wouldn't close? Dylan didn't know.
By chance, the boy happened to turn and spot a small display of brochures in front of a now-locked shoe store. On the front of one of them was a picture of a large building bedecked with lights and a large neon sign. Dylan froze, then grinned. Oh of course! A hotel! Hotels were always open and they had places to eat too! Sometimes gangsters did their businesses in hotels, especially if they were going to rob the place soon! And Dylan knew lots of people with kids stayed in hotels, so he could pretend he was staying there, just as he could pretend he was with the group at the diner or in line at the store. Perfect!
But, which hotel could he go to and how could he get there? When he was with Grandma, they took cabs, but those cost money. And the last thing Dylan wanted was to walk outside in the cold until he found a hotel. He hated walking.
Once again, though, Fate seemed to favor Dylan because at that very moment, the boy happened to spot a large group parents and kids, all of whom were clutching tour guides, making their way toward the front door. Deciding it would be best to stay with such a large group in case someone from the toy store spotted him, Dylan followed after them and trailed behind a few of the kids as they milled about by the entrance. The kids didn't notice him as they were too absorbed in their conversation.
"That was fun!"
"I know. I'm glad I was able to get my new dress."
"Do you think the party tonight will be fun?"
"My mom said there will be sandwiches and cake and punch. The hotel is making them special for us."
Hotel? This was perfect! So long as he stayed with this group, Dylan would be able to get to a hotel no problem! But did that mean they would have to walk? Peering through the jostling crowd, Dylan was amazed to see two huge buses pulling up to the front of the department store, bot of them sliding to a smooth halt by the steps leading into the building. The crowd of people surged forward and Dylan didn't hesitate to follow. Within moments, he was seated in a comfy cushioned chair and peering out the window at the slate-grey sky as a few snowflakes started to fall. The bus under him rumbled as it lumbered away from the department store and joined the cars and cabs on the streets of New York City. Around him, the crowd of tourists chattered excitedly as they were shuttled off to their final destination: a large hotel where they would eat, drink, and shelter from the blizzard all weekend long.
A hotel that, unbeknownst to Dylan, happened to be right next to a very famous nightclub.
