Ch. 3
Having lived most of his life by the ocean, James would always hold fast to the belief that nothing could beat having the beach for a front or backyard. Still, James had to admit that Central Park made for a close second; he easily had the biggest backyard of anyone in New York City. The only rule his family had when it came to James playing outside was that he had to stay within sight or hearing range of the Peach Pit. That was fine by James and his friends; there was plenty of grass in sight of the Pit to run about on as well as several clusters of climbing rocks and one of the trees even had a tire swing hanging from it, a souvenir from a long-retired maintenance worker. Whether it was the height of summer or the dead of winter, there was no shortage of entertainment to be found in Central Park.
The winter sun was hidden by a thin layer of cloud as James and Dylan made their way through the ankle deep snow. The icy crust atop the white powder had vanished and the remaining snow was the perfect texture for molding into snowballs or for piling into a snow fort. While there was still a very noticeable chill in the air, the sharp winds had been replaced by the occasional breeze that barely made the bare branches of trees rattle. Already, kids were filing toward the Peach Pit and there was a good number of joggers, mothers with strollers, and afternoon shoppers lugging groceries or wrapped packages to fill the park with colorful winter clothing and lively conversation.
"Oh good, they're here." James waved at a group of kids, recognizing Tessa, Ricky, and a few others. Dylan barely glanced at them, rubbing his arms and shivering. He pouted as he trudged after James to the waiting group.
"Everyone, this is Dylan." James gestured at the older boy, who was back to pouting. "Dylan, these are my friends."
Dylan glanced up at the group, but didn't say a word.
"Um, hi, I'm Ricky. James told us you were coming to stay."
"I don't wanna be here."
"Oh, yeah, we're really sorry to hear about your grandmother," Tessa said.
"You know about that?"
"Yeah, James told us she's sick. We hope she gets better."
"Me too. I wanna go back to my house; it's better there."
"Well, until then, we're really happy to have you," James assured him.
"Yeah, and James's family is really nice," someone else said from the middle of the group.
"And staying here means you get to play in Central Park all the time," another girl added.
"But it's still hard to have to leave your home," James said. "And hopefully, you'll get to go back to your home soon, Dylan."
Dylan scowled, stomping his feet against the pavement. "How long do we have to be out here?" he whined in a high-pitched voice. "I'm cold!"
"Actually, I'm cold too," Ricky said. "Let's do something fun!"
"Yeah, let's build a huge fort!"
"No, let's build two and have a snowball fight!"
"Wait, everyone. Dylan's the guest; let him choose." James turned to the older boy. "What do you want to do first?"
"I wanna go watch TV."
"Oh, sorry, I meant what did you want to do outside?"
Dylan groaned and looked around, his eyes settling on one of the rock clusters close by the Peach Pit. "Can you climb on those?"
"Oh yeah, we do that all the time!" Ricky said with a grin.
"Okay, I guess we can do that!"
"Great idea, Dylan. We can climb up the rocks and use them for a lookout point," James said with a smile. "That way, we can see the best place to build a fort."
"Hey, yeah, let's do that!"
"And let's race!"
"I'm gonna beat you!"
"Yeah right!"
"C'mon!"
Immediately, the herd of children stampeded toward the rocks. The powdery snow was churned to a froth under their feet, sending it flying in all directions as the group reached the heavy stone slabs. Thick winter mittens meant none of the children minded the cold and slightly damp feel of the rocks as they heaved their small bodies onto the first of the stones in an effort to make their way to the top.
"Where do you think we should build our fort?" Ricky asked, grasping a small shelf of stone to pull himself upwards.
"Let's look for a hill," James suggested. "That way you can see in all directions." He reached down to help Tessa up as her booted foot skidded on a patch of nearly-melted ice.
"Good idea," the little girl said, taking James's hand.
"I know a good place!" a boy named Adam called. "And we have to hurry; I think some of the bigger kids are on their way. If we get there first, we can surprise them."
"Is your brother one of those kids?"
"Yeah, probably. And he's always bragging about how he could beat me at a snowball fight."
"He probably can't beat all of us!"
"Don't worry, Adam, we'll help you." James pulled himself onto the top rock and shielded his eyes with a gloved hand. "There. I think I see the spot you're talking about."
"Where?" Tessa joined James on the top rock.
"There. See that small hill?"
"Hey, yeah, that's the one we used for our animal car race during the summer."
"An animal car race?" one of the girls standing on a lower rock asked, looking up at them.
"Yeah, you know. When you put stuffed animals on toy cars and race them to see who wins."
"I did that with my dolls and the baby kept crashing."
"That's 'cause babies can't drive, Lisa."
"Neither can animals!"
"Hey, my stuffed tiger won!"
"And now we can use the hill to win the snowball fight." James turned away from the view and looked over the numerous rocks, which were now covered with kids. "Wait a minute, where's Dylan?"
"I dunno. Didn't he climb up with you?"
"I don't see him."
"That's weird. He was the one who wanted to climb up here," Ricky noted.
"He didn't fall, did he?" Tessa peered over the side.
"I think we would've heard him if he fell," Adam answered.
"Wait, there he is." James was glancing back the way the came. In the distance, he could see Dylan reaching the Peach Pit and making his way back inside. "He... he left."
"What? Why?"
"I don't know. Is he mad?"
"Why would he be? We did what he asked."
"I better go find out." James started climbing down from the rocks.
"But what about the snow fort? We need you for that, James. You always know how to build the best ones."
"I'll be right back," James assured his friends. "But Dylan's staying with me, so I need to make sure he's alright. You guys, gather as much snow as you can at the top of the hill. Start making snowballs and dig a trench around the whole top of the hill. I'll meet you back there soon."
"Okay. Hurry back!"
Tessa and Ricky watched James follow after Dylan, who had already vanished into the Peach Pit. Ricky shook his head.
"Is it just me or does Dylan not seem like much fun?"
"I guess not, but like James said, he had to leave his home and his grandma's sick. I don't think I'd be much fun either if that happened to me."
"Well, James is fun and a lot worse stuff happened to him."
"But that stuff happened to him a while back. Dylan just got here."
"Yeah, I guess," Ricky sighed. "But I don't think Dylan wanted to play with us in the first place."
"Maybe he just had to use the bathroom," Adam piped up as Tessa and Ricky made their way to the ground.
"Maybe. Anyway, let's do what James said. I wanna build the best fort ever!"
"Yeah, let's go!"
Once more, the children raced off through the snow, eager for fun. Behind them, one little boy made his way through the now-cloudy winter afternoon in the hopes of convincing a new friend to join in the good time.
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The front door slammed, causing Earthworm to wake up from his nap with a startled yelp.
"What? What was that?" He cocked his head at the sound of arms being yanked through jacket sleeves. "James, is that you?"
"No, it's me!" Dylan dropped his coat, hat, and mittens in a heap on the floor, kicking off his shoes as he did. He tromped into the living room and plopped onto the couch. "I wanna watch TV."
"Dylan?" Mrs. Ladybug entered the room from the kitchen where she and Miss Spider were working on preparing dinner together. "Is everything alright?"
"It's cold and I wanna watch TV." Dylan had located the remote control and was pressing the power button. A short blast of static filled the room, causing Earthworm to cringe, before the television set settled on the opening credits of a gritty police drama.
"Dylan, dear, that show may be a little old for you."
Dylan scowled at Mrs. Ladybug. "Grandma lets me watch this show."
"She does, does she?" Mrs. Ladybug glanced at the television set with a concerned frown. "Are you sure?"
"Yeah!"
"Now, now, no need for that. I'm just asking if-" The sounds of a gun being fired cut off Mrs. Ladybug's voice as Dylan switched the volume up higher.
"Ahhh! Hey!"
"What's all this noise?" Mr. Grasshopper made his way swiftly down the stairs.
"I'm watching TV!"
"I can see that," the older insect replied. With a frown, he stalked over to the machine and manually turned the volume back down. "But if you're going to do so, keep the volume at a reasonable level."
"A far more reasonable level!" Earthworm added.
"Hey!" Dylan complained. "That was the way I like it."
"You could lose your hearing if you turn that noise up. And what exactly are you watching?" Mr. Grasshopper frowned at the sight of a detective standing over a bloodied chalk outline. "This hardly seems right for a young boy."
"Apparently his grandmother allows it, though I can't understand why," Mrs. Ladybug clarified.
"'Cause it's good! And I'm hungry; I want cookies!"
"I beg your pardon, young man?"
"Dylan, you may have some fruit or some crackers, but it's too close to dinner time to have sweets."
"Nu-uh, it's only 3 o'clock!"
"Yes, but if you're going to be sitting on the couch for the afternoon, sweets will ruin your appetite."
"Grandma lets me!"
"That is her rule. It is not ours." Miss Spider had emerged from the kitchen. "Do you wish for fruit or crackers like Mrs. Ladybug said?"
"No!" Dylan crossed his arms and pouted. Mr. Grasshopper started to speak up, but paused when Mrs. Ladybug put a hand on his arm, gesturing with her head toward the back of the house. With a sigh, Mr. Grasshopper left the living room and Dylan took the opportunity to turn the volume back up.
"Dylan, could you please turn that down?" Earthworm asked with a groan.
Dylan ignored him.
"Hey, easy compromise, guys." Centipede, who had been smoking on the back porch, had wandered back into the house to hear the tail end of the conversation. "Saw Jimmy headed back this way," he muttered to the others before taking a seat on the couch next to Dylan. Taking the remote from the boy, Centipede lowered the volume to a point where it was softer than Dylan had set it, but still loud enough that Earthworm's expression turned from pained to mildly miffed.
"There, perfect."
"Uhhhhh, speak for yourself!" Earthworm flopped back onto the rug, covering his head with his tail.
"Miss Spider, do you mind taking over dinner preparations?" Mrs. Ladybug asked.
"Not at all. Do you wish me to speak to James first?"
"I think I know what he's going to ask. I'll handle it."
"Very well. But I think we need to have a discussion of our own," Mr. Grasshopper said, aiming an annoyed glance back into the living room.
"Indeed we do. I'll be right with you."
Mrs. Ladybug stepped out onto the back porch just as James was climbing onto the deck.
"Is Dylan back inside?" he asked.
"Yes, dear, he is."
"Is.. is he okay?"
Mrs. Ladybug sighed, shivering a bit in the chilly afternoon. "I'm sure he is, James. He just needs some time to get used to our house and our way of life, that's all."
"Oh. Okay." James looked a bit more relieved. "I just wanted to make sure he didn't think we didn't want him to play with us."
"No, dearie, not at all," Mrs. Ladybug assured him, reaching out to stroke her son's cheek. "And it's very kind of you to come check on him. But you let us worry about that now. You go and have fun with your friends. We'll call you when it's time to come in."
"Okay. We're building our fort."
"Have fun!" Mrs. Ladybug waved James off before stepping back into the warm house with a sigh of relief. Oh, if only all children were as easygoing as their dear sweet James was.
"Is James alright?" Mr. Grasshopper asked as Mrs. Ladybug met him in the small study at the back of the stairs.
"Yes, he was just concerned about Dylan."
"So am I, to be honest." Mr. Grasshopper frowned in the direction of the living room, where another round of muffled gunfire could be heard. "I know he's going through a hard time, but that hardly excuses a lack of manners, don't you agree?"
"Absolutely; you know how I feel about rudeness. But I'm willing to be a bit more permissive today than I am normally, if only to get him settled in."
"Understandable, but just how permissive are we going to be?"
"I've already put my foot down about him not having sweets before dinner, so we'll have to see if he kicks up a fuss about anything else."
"And if he does?"
"We'll have to deal with it then. I suppose the only question is how we deal with it."
"I'm afraid you're the only one with experience in that regard, my dear lady. After all, you successfully raised 300 children in the past, did you not?"
"True, but I never had to deal with this kind of behavior. I won't pretend all my children were angels, but they knew what I expected of them," Mrs. Ladybug admitted. "And James has certainly never given us any cause for concern."
"No he hasn't and that's something else that troubles me abut Dylan," Mr. Grasshopper admitted. "I don't want to have to think about disciplining a child, but his recent behavior is not to be tolerated. We have to do something to correct him, but-" here Mr. Grasshopper paused glanced out toward the backyard. "-I don't want James thinking we'd utilize any kind of punishment Spiker and Sponge gave him."
"Of course not and we won't. I know none of us would even consider laying a hand on a child and I quite draw the line at sending them to bed without food."
"Indeed. Hmm, perhaps a removal of television privileges would suffice then?"
"I think that's a good idea, given that Dylan seems to be rather attached to it. And I suppose we could refuse him dessert or sweets as an alternate punishment if it comes to that."
"That seems fair," Mr. Grasshopper agreed with a nod. "We should let the others know before we sit down to eat tonight; that way, we can all be on the same page. But I must say I hope it doesn't come to that."
"I understand. Believe me, it never feels good when you have to punish a child, but it is necessary at times. I think, given what Ms. Gould told us, Dylan's grandmother was a bit too permissive with her grandson, hence his attitude. A bit of structure might be all he needs."
"In that case, we must do what we can." Mr. Grasshopper allowed himself a small smile. "And Dylan is still just a young boy, so I suppose we can't be too hard on him."
"Exactly. We just need to be patient, that's all."
Unbeknownst to the bug family, said patience was to be sorely tested that evening.