Ch. 5

Was there anything better than a hot bath after a day of playing in the snow? James didn't think so, especially when something as simple as a bath had been denied to him for so long.

"Bad enough that we have to feed you. As if we'd let you waste water as well!" Spiker had said on the day James had come to live with them. "You're to use the cold tap and as little as possible.

Of course, Spiker and Sponge hadn't fed him much and James had long since given up wondering why they complained about him being a "grubby, filthy beast" when they didn't want him taking baths. Still, James had to admit that washing standing up with cold water wasn't too bad in the summer, especially when he'd been working out in the hot sun. But in the winter...

James shivered and ducked further under the still-steaming water. Fragrant soap suds still lingered on the water's surface, their bubbles brushing lightly against the little boy's cheek as he savored the heat.

I wonder if Auntie Sponge and Auntie Spiker are allowed to take hot baths anymore.

Well, James was certain they were allowed to take baths wherever they were now, but he doubted that his aunts were allowed to soak in hot water like this anymore. Which, James thought, served them right, but he still hoped they weren't stuck with freezing water in the middle of winter. That would be awful, even for them.

James's eyes fell shut for a few seconds as he sat nearly submerged in the tub. Blinking himself awake, he rubbed at eyes and stifled a yawn. Okay, time to get out of the bath; much as he loved the feeling of the hot water, it was really making him sleepy. Reaching down, James pulled the plug in the bath and waited for the water to drain a good deal before turning on the tap once more to rinse the last of the soapsuds off. That done, James grabbed the fluffy towel that was set out for him and rubbed himself dry.

"NOOOOOO!"

James started at the piercing shriek. With the sigh, the little boy pulled on his pajamas and slippers, still using the towel to rub at his damp hair. Dylan's tantrum had calmed somewhat as James had stepped into his bath; at least, James hadn't heard the older boy's fury through the walls of the bathroom and he'd hoped maybe Dylan had yelled so much he'd worn himself out. No such luck, it seemed, but how much longer could Dylan keep this kind of tantrum up?"

"NO!" This cry, followed by a dull thump, was weaker than the last. Hmmm, maybe that meant Dylan really was getting tired and would stop all the crying and screaming soon. James sighed as he wiped down the bathtub and hung his towel up. Would Dylan throw this kind of tantrum every night now that he wasn't going to be allowed to stay up late? And anyway, did he realize that he'd already missed at least two programs by throwing a fit? Somehow, James doubted Dylan had considered that. Of course, James thought as he brushed his teeth, Dylan had probably never had a reason to throw such a massive tantrum before if he always got his way at home.

Well, James could understand that a little bit, just as he could remember sitting in the backseat of a car as he was taken away from the only home he'd ever known to an unknown place with unknown relatives. He was certain he'd been told by some adult or another to listen to his aunties and obey their rules, even if they were different from those of his parents, but James hadn't expected anything like Spiker and Sponge's household and how they-

James shook his head. No, no, no more of that, especially not this close to bedtime! But Spiker and Sponge had been creeping into his mind a lot today, it seemed. Was it... was it because of Dylan? That seemed a little unfair.

Maybe, but Dylan hasn't really been all that good, has he?

No, no he had not been good.

And your family's so kind.

Well of course they were. But Dylan didn't know them like James did.

He could have tried to be nice and follow the rules.

Of course he could have done that and frankly, Dylan should have been on his best behavior. But perhaps it was because he was scared for his grandmother.

But you were good when you were sent to Auntie Spiker and Auntie Sponge. Dylan still gets to see his grandmother, but you were never going to see Mum and Dad again.

James paused, thinking this over. That was true, wasn't it? Even if Dylan had to stay longer than a week, Mrs. Ladybug had said she would continue to take Dylan to see her. In fact, he would see her the day after tomorrow, so while James was sure Dylan missed his grandmother, it wouldn't be all that long until they got to see each other again. But Mum and Dad were gone now and much as James loved his new family, he still missed them. What would Dylan do if he lost-

Wait a minute, what about Dylan's parents?

James gripped sink the as he thought the question over. Oh no, were Dylan's parents dead too? Had he gone through that kind of loss and was still upset about it? Was that why he was so upset about not getting his way? Maybe... maybe Dylan's grandmother gave Dylan what he wanted because he was upset over losing his mum and dad and not getting his way just made Dylan upset all over again. Was that it? Was that why-

"I DON'T WANNA GO TO BED! AND I DON'T WANNA BATH!"

James opened the bathroom door and peered out into the hall. Dylan's cries from downstairs seemed to have redoubled in effort, likely from being told bedtime was fast approaching.

"You know what, Grasshopper? I got this."

"Centipede, what are you-"

"AHHHHH! LEMME GO!"

"Nope."

James crossed the hallway into the doorway of his room at the sound of footsteps, accompanied by more yells, coming up the stairs. Miss Spider, who had been turning down the blankets on James's bed, came stand by the little boy as Centipede came striding up the stairs, his face set in a carefree, almost amused grin. Dangling securely from several of his arms was a thrashing, screaming Dylan. The older boy's face was beet red and his voice was cracking, but he continue to flail his arms and kick his chubby legs. All for naught, though, as Centipede's many arms meant he could carry Dylan in midair without fear of his escaping.

"Where do ya want him?" Centipede asked, looking over his shoulder at Mrs. Ladybug and Mrs. Grasshopper as they followed him up the stairs.

"His bedroom, please."

"What about his bath?" Mr. Grasshopper asked. "I daresay he needs one after his carrying on."

"Oh, leave that to me." Mrs. Ladybug was already rolling up her sleeves. "I'm quite used to bathing infants. And if Dylan is going to act like an infant, he'll be bathed like one."

"Ahh, shall I bring out the suit of armor, my dear lady?"

"Very funny. But I suppose extra towels will have to do."

"I will get them for you. But I am thinking you will need more than one basin of hot water," Miss Spider said, laying a hand briefly on James's shoulder as she went to fetch the required materials.

"Most likely. Thank you, Miss Spider. And thank you, James, for putting up with this." Mrs. Ladybug pulled James into her arms. "I must say, Ms. Gould never said a word about Dylan's temperament. I never expected to have to deal with this kind of behavior."

"I know. It's okay."

"Well, all the same, thank you for being so good about this, dearie."

"And with luck, Dylan may yet learn his lesson," Mr. Grasshopper added. "A night of being denied his demands may go a long way toward improving his behavior."

"And if she's up to it, I do plan on speaking to Dylan's grandmother at the hospital tomorrow. But for now, I must get him cleaned up for school." Mrs. Ladybug kissed James's cheek and gave him one more fond squeeze. "Good night, James dear."

"Good night, Mrs. Ladybug."

"Sleep well, my boy." Mr. Grasshopper knelt down to wrap James in his own embrace.

"I will. Oh, Mr. Grasshopper?"

"Hmm? Yes?"

"I know Dylan wanted the television in his room, but since he can't have that, could you leave the record player on? Miss Spider and I thought it'd help him."

"Well now," Mr. Grasshopper said with a smile. "That's a rather good idea, James. Yes, yes, I think a bit of music tonight is something we all need." The elder insect tousled his son's hair affectionately. "And I daresay it'll do you some good too, so I'm more than happy to comply. Though perhaps I should help-"

Another wail came from the guest room. Though it was somewhat reduced in volume, it was clear Dylan wasn't quite ready to give up yet.

"On second thought, I think I'll start the records now. Something to take our minds off the noise, and then a few choice pieces to fall asleep to, I think. Hopefully, it'll calm Dylan down somewhat."

"Oh trust me, he's gonna pass out real soon." Centipede came striding back down the hall, still looking as amused as before.

"Is he alright?" James asked.

"Yeah, he's fine. But he's tryin' to fight when he ain't used to it and bein' upset will only help him for so long. He'll be out cold before ya know it."

"Thank goodness," Mr. Grasshopper said as he stood back up. "Still, while Dylan continues to resist, the least I can do is mitigate his nonsense. Good evening, Centipede. Good night, my boy."

"Good night."

"C'mon, Jimmy-boy, I'll take you to your room." Centipede swept James up in his arms and carried him into the little boy's waiting bedroom. As they entered, Dylan's latest protest reached their ears.

"I DON'T WANNA BATH! I HATE BATHS! NO NO NO! STOPPIT!"

"Ya know, Jimmy, I just realized I've never heard you complain about takin' baths. And here I thought most kids hated 'em."

"Probably because most kids never lived by the sea."

"Yeah?" Centipede set his little boy on his bed, taking his own seat at the edge of James's mattress. "Why's that?"

"Well, when you live by the sea, you get dirty all the time, especially if you go swimming. And even in the winter, you still get sand on your hands and the wind is salty and you can feel it when it dries on your face. But in the summer, the sun dries the sea water all over you and you can feel it all day."

"Huh, that so?"

"Yes. We always knew when kids came to the beach and they'd never been before because they said how they could get clean from playing in the water. But by the end of the day, they all wanted baths because they hated the feeling of the dry salt and sand, especially in their eyes and hair."

"So, basically, we just gotta throw Dylan in the ocean and roll him in the sand?"

"Centipede, it's too cold for that!" James laughed.

"Alright, alright, we'll get one of those plastic pools, fill it with sand and salt water, dunk him in that for a few minutes and then make him stand in front of the heater. How's that?"

"Centipede, you are a perfect fool." Miss Spider had re-entered the room, but from the smile on her face, she had clearly been listening to Centipede and James for some time.

"Hey, if it works, it works!"

"My dad used to say no one could stay miserable at the ocean." James kicked off his slippers and settled into bed, not noticing the glance Centipede and Miss Spider shared. "It's too bad it's not summer. Maybe Dylan would've liked going to the sea."

"Your father made a good point, my James. I think a day out of the house would do Dylan some good. But it will have to wait until after this weekend."

"Tell me about it. I've been sendin' out memos right an' left to make sure the city's gonna be okay."

"Why? Is something bad happening?" James asked, sitting up slightly.

"Nah, nothin' too bad. But we're in for a real cold snap; I wanna make sure everyone's got what they need."

"And speaking of which, do you need anything, James? Are you warm enough?"

"Yes." James had laid back down, nestling his head into his pillow. "I'm fine."

"Good." Miss Spider tucked the blankets under James's chin. "Now to sleep, my James," she whispered, kissing his forehead.

"Night, buddy," Centipede added, ruffling James's hair as he stood up.

"Good night, Centipede. Good night, Miss Spider."

James watched his guardians leave the room through half-closed eyes. Miss Spider turned off his light on her way out, but the hall light spilling into the room from under the closed door kept the room from being thrown into pitch darkness. From down the hall, Dylan was letting out the occasional muffled yell, but that was quickly drowned out by the noise of a soft violin recording from Mr. Grasshopper's room. James sighed, allowing his eyes to close completely. Let Dylan complain, he thought as he drifted off to sleep, because at the moment, James Henry Trotter couldn't think of a single thing to be upset about.

A moment that, sadly, was not to last.
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The hallway was dark, dingy, and all too familiar. James felt his breath catch in his chest; this wasn't home, this was-

"You wretched little beast!"

James swung around to see Spiker and Sponge standing over him, looking taller than they'd even been.

"What... I..."

"How DARE you speak to us in such a manner?" Spiker hissed through her yellowed teeth.

"Please, Auntie Spiker, I-"

"What makes you think YOU deserve to get your way?" Sponge snarled, narrowing her eyes. "Huh, spoiled little brat, you are!"

"But I-"

"Yelling and crying and demanding? Is that what your 'lovely parents' taught you?"

"No, and that wasn't me! I wouldn't-"

"I don't see any other nasty little boys around here, do you, Sponge?"

"No I don't, Spiker. Just this nasty little boy in front of us."

"So, then, he's a liar as well!"

"No, I-"

"And you KNOW what happens to loudmouth, spoiled little liars, don't you?"

Spiker and Sponge advanced on James, cruel smiles on their faces as they raised their fists high.

"No, no please!"

"No!"

James woke up with a start and a gasp, his heart thudding away in his chest. Panting for air, the little boy struggled to sit up as the mass of blankets continued to enfold him. Looking around, James gave a shuddering sigh of relief as he recognized his dark bedroom. Home; he was home. No looming hallways, no dingy walls with old ugly photographs and best of all, no Spiker and Sponge.

But oh had it felt so real.

"James."

James gasped and turned at the sound of the voice.

"Shhh, my James, it is just me." Miss Spider's pale face was visible in the gloom as she approached her son's bed with her arms outstretched. James sank into her soothing embrace resting his head against Miss Spider's shoulder as she held him close.

"Shh, it is alright now. You are safe."

"I know," James said in a voice barely above a whisper. "I'm okay."

"Hmmmm." Miss Spider laid a hand against James's forehead for a moment. "You are not ill, but you are shaking. I am guessing that the nightmare was about your aunts?"

"Yes."

"Do you wish to talk about it?'

James thought for a moment, then shook his head. "Not right now."

"Alright then. Do you think you can sleep? It is nearly eleven o'clock."

"I think so. But... will you stay with me?"

"Of course I will." Miss Spider settled James back into bed, smoothing blankets back over him. "I am here, James," she promised as she leaned down to kiss him once more. "I am here."

James closed his eyes, feeling Miss Spider's hand caressing his cheek. From down the hall, soft gentle music was playing from the record player, but the rest of the house was silent. No more yelling, no more angry banging, everything was alright. James closed his eyes, already halfway back into sleep as Miss Spider watched over him.

Yes, everything was alright.

For now.