Ch. 4
The sun had nearly set by the time James returned back to the Peach Pit. While he hadn't been called in for dinner yet, most of his friends had already left with their parents and the little boy was more than ready to call it a night. His winter jacket was streaked with snow and his hat and gloves were nearly soaked through. The wind was also starting to pick up and James felt the chill more than ever now. Still, he could feel a glow from within as the fun of the afternoon lingered in his mind and he knew that he'd soon be warm and dry in the Peach Pit.
James approached the Pit from the back. He was about to walk around to the front door when he saw Miss Spider appear at the back door, having clearly seen him on his way home. Stepping onto the deck, James stamped his feet a few times to get the worst of the snow off his shoes before stepping through the back door Miss Spider held open for him.
"I am guessing you and your friends had fun?" she asked with a smile.
"Yes! We built a huge fort; it's still there. The big kids couldn't knock it down no matter what they tried. And because we were on the hill, we could see in all directions. It was so much fun!"
"I can see that," Miss Spider laughed, reaching up to remove James's hat. She frowned a bit as she pressed a hand against James's cheek. "Oh, but you are cold, my James. Come, leave your coat and gloves on the counter and sit down."
James obeyed, slipping off his shoes and placing them on the wooden drip tray set aside for rain and winter boots. The little boy pulled off his gloves and coat, folding them and setting them on the wooden counter before making his way over to the kitchen table and perching on one of the chairs.
"Ah, James, there you are." Earthworm had migrated into the kitchen from the living room and had curled himself up as tightly as he could by the stove. Now, he slid over to the table to join his boy, nudging James's hand lightly as he did. "Oh, you are cold. Are you alright? Do you feel sick?"
"No, I feel fine," James assured him. "My friends and I were just playing in the snow, that's all."
"But you could catch a chill."
"Not tonight, he will not. Here, James." Miss Spider had returned with a dish towel that had been hanging by the stove. Unfurling it, she draped it over the back of James's neck and pressed the edges against his cheeks. "This will warm you nicely."
"Thanks, Miss Spider."
"Of course." Miss Spider brushed a light kiss against the side of James's head before returning back to her cooking. "Though I do wish for you to have a hot bath tonight, just to make sure you do not get sick."
"I should say," Earthworm agreed.
"I'd like that."
"Good. Sit and rest for a bit, though. Dinner will be ready soon."
James held the warm towel against his neck, feeling a shudder of delight run through him as the heated fabric seeped into his cold skin. Two pots were steaming on the stove and a loaf of fresh bread was already sliced and ready in a long green dish. A savory aroma was coming from the oven and James felt his stomach twitch in response to the delicious smell. The little boy gave a contented sigh, leaning back in his chair as he felt the familiar glow radiating in his chest. Only this time, it came from the feeling of being in a warm home, an upcoming meal, and best of all, knowing his family was here to love and care for him.
Not like last winter.
James clutched the towel a little more tightly as an unwelcome memory forced its way to the forefront of his mind. A cold dark evening of heavy snow falling on the top of the hill meant James had been forced to dig a path from the house into the garden not once, but several times just so he could complete his chores. By the time he'd finished, his fingers had been frozen stiff, his hair and clothing were soaked, and he'd been shaking with exhaustion. But Spiker and Sponge had not let him into the warm kitchen, even for a moment.
"As if we're gonna let you laze about by the stove while we're havin' our dinner," Sponge had snapped, cramming half a roasted potato into her mouth. "Get upstairs, beast, we don't want to look at a drowned rat of a boy."
"And don't you dare waste any of the hot water," Spiker had hissed. "I'm looking forward to a good hot bath in this cold weather and I won't have you ruining it!"
Thankfully, James had fallen asleep quickly that night, which meant he quickly forgot his hollow, aching stomach, and the chill seeping into his body. And, well, at least he got to work inside the next day. That was something.
But... no. No more of that. Spiker and Sponge were gone from his life now and James couldn't be happier with his new life. And truthfully, James didn't mind having his family worry or fuss over him a bit; it was certainly loads better than being sent to bed in a cold room without anything to eat.
The sound of glass breaking, followed by an angry yell, caused James to look toward the living room. The noises of what was obviously a horrible fight drifted into the kitchen from the TV.
"Is Dylan watching TV?"
"I believe he is still sitting in front of the television set, yes" Miss Spider said, a sigh working its way into her words. "From what we were told, he is used to watching it often."
"He did say he wanted to stay inside and he didn't really want to play with us," James admitted. "I thought he at least wanted to climb the rocks with us, but I guess he didn't."
"Do not worry, James." Miss Spider came over to wrap her arms around her little boy. "Dylan is... getting used to our home and way of life. It will take a little time, yes?"
"Well, he's only going to be here for the week, isn't he?" Earthworm asked.
"It may be longer than that," Miss Spider reminded him. "And even so, a week can feel long if you are unhappy."
James nodded, curling further into Miss Spider's embrace. "I wish I could help Dylan feel happier."
"I know. You are a good boy, James, and I hope Dylan learns a bit more of that from you."
"He's not bad though, is he?"
"Not... bad, I do not think," Miss Spider said slowly. "But he is, how you say, a bit on the spoiled side."
"I'll say. I can't believe his grandmother allows him to just sit in front of the television set all day and watch those violent shows." Earthworm shuddered. "And, of course, he had to turn the volume up as loud as I could. Couldn't stand it meself; that's why I was by the stove."
"Oh." James looked up at Miss Spider. "Dylan told me he needs a TV in his room to sleep."
"Did he now? Well, we are not putting the television in his room, but I can see if Mr. Grasshopper will leave his record player on when it is bedtime for the two of you. Some soft music may be what he needs. You do not mind hearing that, James?"
"No, I'd like that too."
"Very well; we will ask." Miss Spider kissed James's cheek once more before letting him go. "Best go and wash up for dinner now, James. I believe the casserole is ready."
"The hamburger one, right?"
"Yes. Ms. Gould told us Dylan quite likes hamburger, so Mrs. Ladybug and I thought this would be a good dish to welcome him with. And I know it is one of your favorites too, especially when you've been out in the snow." Miss Spider pulled on a padded mitt as she prepared to remove the dish from the hot oven. "Let Dylan know to wash up too."
"I will. Oh, I'll hang up my coat first."
"No need; I will take of that for you. And James?"
"Yes?" The little boy paused, turning to look back at Miss Spider.
"Make sure you wash with hot water. You still feel a bit chilled."
James nodded, his face stretching into a smile. "Yes, Miss Spider, I will."
************************************************************************************************************************************
"Hi, Dylan. Miss Spider said we have to wash up because it's time for dinner."
Dylan spared James the briefest of glances. "I'm not dirty. I don't need to wash."
"Oh, well..." James wasn't sure how to respond to that. "I'll go first, then," was what finally came to mind.
James ducked behind the stairs and into the downstairs lavatory. Switching on the water, the little boy felt the last of the winter's cold bite leave his hands as hot water cascaded out of the tap. James scrubbed his arms and face with the cake of lavender soap, taking a moment to let the lovely steam wash over his face before rinsing off and grabbing one of the hanging towels. Despite the delightful feeling, James cast an uncertain glance at the closed door. Was Dylan really going to not wash up before dinner? Okay, true, he hadn't been out playing like James had, but his hands still got dirty. James hung up the towel with a sigh as he remembered his parents explaining that lesson to him.
"It's actually pretty amazing how much we use our hands, even we think we're not doing much," James remembered his mother saying. "Actually, we can get even a little dirty all over just from staying inside."
"Like how you have to brush your teeth when you wake up, even though you haven't eaten?"
"Exactly. But think of all the things you touch with your hands rather than your teeth throughout the day. Comes out to rather a lot, doesn't it?" Dad had replied with a grin.
Of course, the opposite had been true when living with Spiker and Sponge considering how little they'd fed him, but James had never forgotten his parents' lesson. Maybe, he thought as he hung the towel back up, maybe no one had explained that to Dylan. Maybe he should do that now. After all, Miss Spider has asked James to let Dylan know to get ready. No sooner had James left the bathroom then the sound of the TV being cut off reached his ears.
"HEY!" Dylan's annoyed voice echoed through the house. "I was watching that!"
"Television time is over," Miss Spider answered in a voice that brooked no nonsense. "And I know James told you it was time to get ready for dinner. Go and wash your hands."
James entered the room in time to see Dylan settle further into the couch, a fierce pout on his face.
"I wanna watch TV while I eat."
"Young man, we eat at the table in this house." Mr. Grasshopper had emerged from the study and had followed James into the living room. "And I quite believe you've had your fill of television for today."
"But-"
"None of that. Go and wash up like you were told."
Dylan spotted James and scowled at him. "I told you I'm not dirty."
"You may not have done anything strenuous, but you still need to clean up before dinner." Mr. Grasshopper frowned at Dylan, but he laid a gentle hand on James's shoulder, pulling the little boy closer to him. "It's a show of respect, Dylan, as well as good manners overall."
"And in the future, you must hang up your coat and not leave it in a pile." Miss Spider had already set James's coat on the rack near the front door and was picking up Dylan's discarded garments as well.
"Grandma does that!"
"Sadly, your grandmother is not here, so that responsibility falls to you." Mr. Grasshopper waved two hands at Dylan. "Now up from the couch and go clean up. I shouldn't have to ask you again."
Dylan opened his mouth to protest, but suddenly pressed a hand against his stomach. With a groan, he got up from the couch. "Fine, but only 'cause I'm hungry. Hope you have something good."
"Yes, it's something you like," James told him as Dylan brushed past. Dylan ignored him, but made a point to slam the bathroom door shut.
"What? What was that?"
"It's fine, Earthworm," Mr. Grasshopper said with a sigh. Shaking his head, the older insect squeezed James's shoulder and smiled down at him. "Shall we, my boy?"
"Yes. I'm hungry too."
"I should think you are. I saw you and friends dashing about from the study window. How you're not half-asleep already, I have no idea."
James took his seat at the table, feeling somewhat cheered. Centipede had already seated himself as well and Mrs. Ladybug was helping Miss Spider carry dishes to the table.
"I made a pitcher of both lemonade and iced tea for dinner. James, dear, what would like?"
"Lemonade, please."
"Very well. And there you are, Dylan." Mrs. Ladybug looked up as the older boy entered the dining room. "You're sitting over here. Now, what would you like to drink? Tonight we have lemonade or iced tea or-"
"I want Coke!"
"Heaven help us," Mr. Grasshopper said under his breath, pouring both Mrs. Ladybug and himself iced tea.
"I'm afraid we have none," Mrs. Ladybug replied. "Iced tea, lemonade, or water; what would you like?"
"How come you don't have Coke?"
"Good question; I like that stuff myself. Hey!" Centipede glanced up at Miss Spider, who had given him a light swat with a dish towel.
"Too many sugary drinks aren't healthy and they do horrors to your teeth, that's why," Mrs. Ladybug answered, ignoring Centipede's remark entirely. "Now, which of the three choices would you like?"
Dylan scowled again and crossed his arms.
"Very well, water you shall have."
"NO!"
"Ugh." Earthworm winced at Dylan's yell.
"Dylan, this is your last chance. If you want either lemonade or iced tea, tell me which one."
"Lemonade," he muttered.
"Say 'please' next time," Mrs. Ladybug instructed as she poured Dylan a heft glass of the sweet liquid and set it in front of him. Dylan ignored her, turning his scowling expression to the table as the adult insects began passing the dishes around, serving themselves and the children.
"There, James, you enjoy that."
"Thanks, Mrs. Ladybug."
"I think we will all enjoy this fine meal, ladies," Mr. Grasshopper said with a nod.
"Perfect weather for it too," Centipede added.
"Ewww, what is this?" Dylan stared at his plate, his face contorting in disgust as he poked at the hamburger casserole he'd been given. "It looks gross!"
James couldn't believe his ears as he looked down at his own plate. The slice of savory hamburger casserole was still steaming, the lightly seared beef rich with the odors of onions and parsley. A hefty dollop of creamy mashed potatoes was set across from the meat, along with a good portion of sweet yellow corn in a butter sauce. The table was also laid with the loaf of bread with butter on hand and a tossed green salad. Quite frankly, everything looked delicious and the idea of calling any of his family's food gross or disgusting was downright insulting.
"Dylan Anderson, mind your manners!" Mr. Grasshopper said sharply. "And watch your language at the table!"
"Why? It looks gross, so why shouldn't I call it gross?" Dylan stabbed the hamburger, causing savory juices to leak out onto his plate.
"Oh really?" Mrs. Ladybug looked more amused than angry as she sat down. "And here I thought you liked hamburger."
"Wha- this is hamburger?" Dylan's eyes went wide.
"Heh, suddenly doesn't seem so bad, does it?" Centipede snickered as he dug into his own meal.
"It's really good," James assured the older boy. "I think it's better than regular hamburgers."
"There, you see?" Mr. Grasshopper said as he nodded at James. "There's no reason for a fuss. Try the dish; I think you'll be pleasantly surprised."
"Then how come you're not eatin' it?"
"Because I do not eat meat." Mr. Grasshopper raised an eyebrow at Dylan. "You are welcome to extra salad as well, if you'd like."
"Ewww, vegetables."
"Then perhaps you should eat the casserole?" Miss Spider asked, meeting Dylan's eyes with all four of her own.
"Ewww." Dylan went back to poking at his food. "And I hate mashed potatoes."
Mr. Grasshopper dabbed at his mouth with a napkin and looked ready to speak, but Mrs. Ladybug laid a hand on his arm and shook her head. Instead, she looked across the table and asked,
"Did you have a good day with your friends, James?"
"Yes. Our fort's still on top of the hill. I think it'll stay there for a while."
"Atta boy, Jimmy, bet you showed the other kids how to build somethin' real good."
"It's a little like building a sandcastle, but snow's harder to break down. And the hill was big enough so that we could build from the inside and the outside."
"Very clever, my boy, taking the high ground." Mr. Grasshopper favored his son with a proud smile.
"So long as the other boys didn't get mad and stated throwing snowballs harder than necessary or-"
"Earthworm, really!"
"It's just a game, Earthworm," James explained. "And everyone knew it. But I think Adam's brother was a little upset. He's never lost a snowball fight before."
"Ahhh, pride goes before a fall."
"Especially when you're dealin' with siblings."
"Very true," Ms. Ladybug said with a chuckle. "Dylan, would you like more casserole?"
"No."
"I believe you mean 'no thank you.''' Mrs. Ladybug glanced over at Dylan's barely touched plate. "Why not eat some bread and butter if you're not going to eat your potatoes?"
Thankfully, Dylan nibbled at his bread and butter without complaint and for a few minutes, silence reigned over the table. James felt the hot food settle in his stomach, enjoying every bite of the hamburger, potatoes, corn, and bread. The lemonade, too, was both sweet and refreshing and James sipped the last of his drink down as he finished his dinner.
"Oh, Miss Spider, is the kettle full?"
"Yes, and over the low heat."
"Good; it shouldn't take too long to boil then."
"I got the coffee, Angel Fangs. Earthworm? Grasshopper?"
"So long as it's decaffeinated."
"Thank you, Centipede, but I'll be taking tea."
"As will I. James, would you like some hot cocoa?"
"I want some!" Dylan perked up considerably.
"Only if you ask properly. James?"
"Yes, please, Mrs. Ladybug."
"And Dylan?"
"Yeah!"
"Dylan."
"Ughhh." Dylan sat back in his chair with a scowl. "Yes please," he muttered.
"Thank you, Dylan."
"I want cookies too! And ice cream! And-"
"That's quite enough, young man. And you barely ate your dinner."
"I like dessert better than dinner!"
"All the same, I'm not sure-"
"For tonight, I think we can allow it," Mrs. Ladybug insisted. "But Mr. Grasshopper is correct, Dylan; in the future, you must eat your dinner if you want sweets afterwards."
"Well, then make a good dinner."
"Dylan-"
"What else do you like?" James asked suddenly, glancing over at Dylan. "For dinner I mean."
The older boy stared at him, but actually seemed to consider the question.
"I like hot dogs. And grilled cheese sandwiches. And macaroni and cheese with lots of ketchup."
"Well, I'm sure we can work with that." Mrs. Ladybug brushed a hand lightly over James's cheek before heading back to the kitchen. "Thank you, dearie," she whispered as she left.
"Those dishes hardly seem the healthiest." Mr. Grasshopper noted.
"They're good."
"I'm sure they are, but..." Mr. Grasshopper shook his head. "Well, like Mrs. Ladybug said, I'm sure we can work with those suggestions. But in the meantime, Dylan, I should like to see an improvement in-"
"Can I watch TV now? Grandma lets me watch TV when I have dessert."
"I do not think there is time for that." Miss Spider brought out a tray of steaming mugs and cups and set it on the table.
"I should say not. It's already 6:00." Mrs. Ladybug was setting out small dessert plates, each one adorned with three chocolate chip cookies. "You and James need to get ready for bed soon. You both have school tomorrow."
"School?" Dylan yelped, ignoring the mug of hot cocoa Miss Spider set in front of him. "I have to go to school?"
There was a brief pause as everyone traded glances.
"Of... course you do," Mrs. Ladybug said slowly. "Why wouldn't you?"
"'Cause I'm staying here!"
"Dylan, one of the reasons we agreed to host you is so that your schooling wouldn't be interrupted," Mr. Grasshopper explained as he sipped his tea.
"But... Grandma's sick! I shouldn't have to go to school!"
"I know it's hard, dear, but I promise you'll still get to see your grandmother. In fact, you'll be able to see her on Tuesday right after school. And-"
"I don't wanna go to school!"
"Well, you're going to school and that's final," Mr. Grasshopper said firmly.
"But-"
"Which is why after you finish your biscuits and cocoa, you will need to get ready for bed," Miss Spider added, looking up from her own cup of strong coffee.
"You really go to bed now?" Dylan stared at James.
"Not right now, but at 7:30."
"7:30? That's early!"
"Yes, we heard you!" Earthworm groaned.
"You need your rest, Dylan, so you need to get to bed."
"But I'm older!"
"Dylan-"
"Hold up, Dylan's gotta point." Centipede flipped his final cookie into his mouth as he gestured at Dylan with an upper hand. "He's nine; no offense, Jimmy, but I think a nine-year-old should get to stay up later than a seven-year-old."
"I don't mind; that sounds fair."
Mr. Grasshopper and Mrs. Ladybug exchanged glances. "Alright, Dylan," Mrs. Ladybug said slowly. "Since you are older, we can set your bedtime for 8:30 instead."
"But all the good stuff comes on after 9!"
"Absolutely not!"
"And define good." Earthworm shook his head. "You shouldn't even be thinking about watching that late-night garbage!"
"I can watch it if I wanna!"
"No you most certainly may not."
"And we can always revoke that 8:30 bedtime," Mr. Grasshopper reminded him. "So unless you want to go to bed at 7:30, I suggest you quiet down and enjoy the privilege while you still have it!"
"That's not fair! I don't have to do that at home!"
"What time do you go to bed?" James asked.
"When I feel like it."
"What?"
"Dylan, you don't have a set bedtime?"
"No! Grandma lets me stay up as late as I wanna!"
"And how exactly does that help you be rested for school?"
"If I'm too tired, I don't go!"
"What?" Mr. Grasshopper stared at the nine-year-old. "Are you serious, Dylan?"
"Yeah!"
"Wouldn't try gettin' away with that 'round here, kiddo." Centipede gestured at Mrs. Ladybug and Mr. Grasshopper. "Those two'll be likely to drag you outta bed in the mornin'. I would know"
"Well, that did help you be on time for meeting, Centipede," Mis Spider replied with a sly smile.
"Hey!"
"I DON'T WANNA GO TO SCHOOL!" Dylan slammed his fists down on the table, making empty plates and cups rattle.
"That's enough, Dylan! Now-"
"I DON'T WANNA! I DON'T WANNA! I DON'T WANNA!" Dylan threw himself onto the floor, banging his fists and wailing.
"Ahhh, you deal with this!" Earthworm dated from the room toward the stairs. "If you need me, I'll be in my dirt piles!"
The rest of the family barely noticed Earthworm's departure, too focused on the tantruming boy on their dining room floor. James gasped as Miss Spider put her hands on his shoulders, guiding him to stand up and move away from the table.
"Come, James, I think it is time for you to get ready for bed."
"But what about...?"
"Do not worry about Dylan." Miss Spider frowned as Dylan began beating his feet against the floor along with his hands. "We will take care of this."
"Uh, how we gonna do that?" Centipede asked.
Mrs. Ladybug, however, was already waving everyone back. "Let him be," she said, keeping her voice just loud enough so she could be heard over Dylan's wailing. "He's in a right fit and won't listen. Once he wears himself out, we can deal with him then."
"What are you going to do?" James asked softly.
Once again the family exchanged rather pained glances. "It's quite alright, my boy," Mr. Grasshopper said after a moment. "But I think Dylan will be sharing your bedtime for the rest of week, would you not agree, Mrs. Ladybug?"
"Oh very much so. Though after this display, I'll be surprised if he stays awake that long tonight."
James spared Dylan one more glance. The older boy was still shrieking about not wanting to go to school, but already his arms and legs were moving much more slowly. Despite the situation, James couldn't help but see a slightly funny side to it: perhaps if Dylan spent less time in front of the TV, he'd be able to throw a tantrum longer.
"Come, James." Miss Spider was already urging him him out of the room. "I will start your bath for you. And it is sure to be quieter upstairs, I think."
"Yes, Miss Spider."
But even the second floor couldn't muffle Dylan's screams entirely and James could hear the older boy's angered cries through his bedroom floor. Dylan sure could scream and James was staring to wonder if Dylan wouldn't end up with a sore throat. The little boy shuddered as he collected his pajamas and slippers from his dresser; he couldn't imagine acting in such a horrible manner, especially toward a family who'd been so kind to him. Nor could James remember acting in such a way around his parents and if he'd done that with Spiker and Sponge...
James felt a cold chill race through him. If disagreeing with his aunts meant getting beaten black and blue, he didn't even want to think about what would happen if he'd acted like Dylan around them.
Dylan's screams were starting to fade now, albeit slowly. But James felt his hands shaking and his knuckles were white as he held tightly to his folded pajamas. Would Dylan start screaming again when he was told he would have to go to bed earlier now? Would he throw another tantrum? Would his family have to-
"James?" Miss Spider poked her head into James's room. "Your bath is ready. Go get in while it is hot."
"Yes, Miss Spider," James said softly.
"Oh, my James." The little boy had barely taken a step before he was enfolded in Miss Spider's arms. "I am sorry this is turning out to be so difficult; we did not expect this either. But all will be well. I promise."
"Are you very angry at Dylan?"
"A bit. I think we are more annoyed than anything. But," Miss Spider admitted with a sigh, "as I have said, he needs to get used to our home. From the sound of it, Dylan's grandmother has not taught him well."
"I guess not," James admitted. "Do you think he'll listen to us if we try to teach him to be better?"
"In time, I am sure, especially if he does have to stay with us longer than a week. But that is not something to worry about now, James. Go and take your bath; I will be here when you are ready for bed."
James smiled and held onto Miss Spider a moment longer. "I love you, Miss Spider."
"I love you, my James." Miss Spider kissed her son's cheek and held him close. "We all love you. You know that, yes?"
"Yes."
And James did know that; he just never got tired of hearing it.