Ch. 11

The hallway was dark and quiet, lit only by a dim grey glow. Floorboards creaked under James's feet as he made his way slowly down the corridor. The little boy could feel his heart thudding away in his chest as he tried to make himself as small as possible as he walked so as not to attract any attention from his aunts. After all, if they didn't know he was there, they couldn't get mad at him. And if they couldn't get mad at him, they couldn't punish him.

At least, James hoped so.

Behind him, a door slammed and angry footsteps started clomping around downstairs.

"WHAT'S THIS MESS?"

James froze in place.

"WHO DID THIS?"

It wasn't him! Honest, it wasn't! He'd cleaned the living room that day and his aunts knew it.

"BOY! GET DOWN HERE! THIS INSTANT!"

Oh no. No no no! Not again!

"WHERE ARE YOU?"

Maybe if he stayed still, they wouldn't find him. Maybe if he was quiet, they'd think he was outside. Maybe-

"THERE YOU ARE!"

James's eyes snapped open and he would have cried out if not for the fact that his face was buried against his quilt. The soft fabric, still smelling of the sweet detergent Mrs. Ladybug used, muffled any sounds of the little boy jolting awake and for a moment, all James could do was lie still in his bed as his racing heart calmed and a few frightened tears dripped from his eyes.

Just a dream. That's all it was. Just a dream.

Freeing an arm from the confines of his quilt, James hastily rubbed at his eyes as he raised his head off his pillow. Like the previous night, his frightened gaze was met with the sight of his bedroom. Dark and shadowy, yes, but still his bedroom. Nothing to be afraid of, nothing that could hurt him and-

Footsteps.

James froze in place, his heart starting to pound in his chest again. He could hear someone coming up the stairs, getting closer and closer with each step. Oh no, where they headed for his room? But he hadn't done anything; he hadn't.

As quickly and quietly as he could, James bundled himself into his quilt and lay back down on his pillow, turning on his side away from the door. Closing his eyes, the little boy tried to call up a comforting image in his mind. In his imagination, James could see the shore of a beach under a starry night sky. Soft waves broke against salt-encrusted rocks, sending up cool foamy spray and making the stones seem to glitter under the moonlight. James felt the tension leave his body as he focused on the peaceful scene. He had learned that if he thought of something nice, it would make him look as though he were dreaming instead of faking being asleep. That way, Spiker and Sponge wouldn't-

Wait, what?

James's bedroom door opened, spilling light into his room. Instinct once more took over and the little boy continued to visualize the moonlit ocean as he had so often done back in his chilly attic room.

"Oh good, he's asleep." Mrs. Ladybug's whispered voice came from just above James's bed.

James remained still, feeling slightly guilty that he was in fact not asleep, but Mrs. Ladybug sounded happy that he appeared to be so. And James knew that if he gave any indicators that he was awake or had a bad dream, she and the rest of his family would worry. He didn't want that, especially when they had to deal with Dylan right now. As such, the little boy forced himself to stay still as his guardian ran a few gentle fingers over his cheek.

"Hardly surprising he's asleep, given that he was out playing before dinner." James heard Mr. Grasshopper chuckle as the tall insect stepped into the room as well. "Where children find the energy to run about in the cold, I'll never know."

"The blessing of youth. Though I admit that's a bit of a double-edged sword at the moment. Goodness, how Dylan carried on. Thank goodness he fell asleep fairly easily. But he hadn't slept well last night, so I'm not surprised he was tired."

"Indeed. Although that means he'll be fully rested tomorrow." James heard Mr. Grasshopper's sigh and felt the taller insect's fingers running through his hair. "At least our dear James will be as well."

"I hope so. I've been a bit worried about him."

"Oh? He's not falling ill, is he?"

"Not that I can see and he's not feverish." James felt Mrs. Ladybug's hand on his forehead. "But I know Dylan's tantrums are upsetting him and he's already had one nightmare."

Two.

James kept his eyes closed, trying his hardest to keep his focus on the peaceful beach scene in his mind. While a part of him wanted to let his two family members know about his most recent bad dream, he knew doing so would make them worry even more. He couldn't do that to them! And besides, the bad dream was over, he was safe, and even now he was already starting to drift back to sleep for real. Above him, Mr. Grasshopper and Mrs. Ladybug's voices started to fade as the little boy lost his battle with slumber.

"...Dylan tomorrow.."

"do you... grandmother... behavior..."

"...see if we can... hope James..."

"...let him...be alright..."

The nighttime beach scene in James's mind faded away until only the dark of the night sky remained. Yet one small star, beaming like a faraway lantern in the night, seemed to follow the little boy in his dreams as though someone was watching him from far away.
************************************************************************************************************************************

"I wanted pancakes!"

James blinked in surprise and gestured to his plate. "These are pancakes." Round, golden, and fluffy, the hot cakes were covered in maple syrup and melted on James's tongue as he took another bite of his breakfast. Across from him, Dylan made a face.

"Pancakes are supposed to be chocolate. And have chocolate chips! AND I want chocolate syrup on top!"

"And how exactly would that be a healthy breakfast?" Mr. Grasshopper asked with a now-familiar frown.

Dylan scowled, ignoring not just the pancakes, but the still sizzling bacon, crispy toast, and fresh berry salad on the table. "That's how Grandma makes my pancakes! I like those better!"

"Sounds like too much sugar to me," Earthworm sniffed. "I can't imagine starting a day like that."

"It does sound like a good dessert though," James admitted.

"Exactly. Dessert!" Earthworm nodded. "But breakfast? Never!"

"I want it!"

"Dylan, eat your breakfast." Mrs. Ladybug's voice was still soft, but there was a warning edge to it. "And don't forget, you're seeing your grandmother after school. Believe me, we have a lot to talk about."

"Yeah, like how living here is the worst!"

"Hey!"

"Oh really?"

"That's enough, young man!"

James kept his eyes on his plate, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach. Thankfully, he had managed to keep the fact that he'd had another nightmare to himself, but he knew that would only last so long if his family noticed him looking worried.

Maybe you'll get used to it soon.

Get used to angry voices at mealtimes?

If Dylan's here, probably.

But he was only supposed to stay for a week.

Unless he has to stay longer, remember?

Oh... right. The idea of Dylan staying in the Peach Pit longer seemed far less appealing than it had before James had actually met the older boy. But at the same time, James found himself wondering about the idea of Dylan being forced to live with people who might not be very nice, people who might do more than deny him sweets, people like-

No! James sipped down the last of his orange juice in an attempt to wash away the memories threatening to creep up on him again. Was this something he would have to get used to as well? He hoped not!

"C'mon, kids, let's get movin'!"

Jerked out of his thoughts by Centipede's call, James gathered his breakfast dishes and brought them into the kitchen where Mrs. Ladybug was waiting with his lunch.

"Thank you, dear. Ham and cheese today."

"Thanks!"

"Of course. Centipede and I will be at your school this afternoon. He'll take you home and I'll take Dylan to the hospital."

"Okay. I hope Dylan's grandmother is alright."

"So do I, dear. And... well, we'll see how the visit goes."

James understood.
************************************************************************************************************************************

"I think chocolate pancakes would be a good dessert too." Tessa gave the matter some more thought. "Especially if you made the silver dollar pancakes. Then it would be like having a bunch of little cakes."

"Yeah, and you could choose the toppings," Ricky added. "I'd want whipped cream."

"That sounds good. But I don't think Dylan would have wanted to wait until dessert. And anyway, he's not allowed to have dessert until tomorrow."

"Was he mad?"

James paused for a moment. "Yes," he answered quietly.

Ricky and Tessa exchanged glances over the art table where the three were seated. James took the time to look over the part of his project he was working on. It was coming along nicely, but he would have to make sure it fit with the part he had completed at home. But he could do that tonight and he and Tessa had gotten the books they needed out of the library already. If all went well, he would have the whole thing completed by Wednesday night and then he could put everything together to show his family on Thursday after finishing his homework.

Oh, right. Homework...

"Are you okay, James?"

"Hmmm?" James looked up at his friends, who were watching him with slightly concerned looks. The little boy felt a familiar shudder of guilt run through him; it was bad enough his family was starting to worry about him, but he didn't need to give his friends cause for concern.

"I'm okay. Just... Dylan didn't do his homework last night."

"He didn't?"

"No."

"Oooh, he's gonna be in trouble." Ricky clearly couldn't help the grin from spreading across his face. "But how'd you know he didn't do his homework? Did he tell you?"

"Sort of."

"Huh?"

"It was something Dylan said right before we got ready to leave today."

"Did you do my homework?" the older boy grouchily asked as his backpack was held out to him.

"No, we did not."

"Then you're gonna get in trouble!" Dylan sneered at the gathered insects, but that expression quickly faded when Centipede spoke up.

"Actually, kid, I think this one's on you."

"What?"

"Your homework is your responsibility, Dylan," Mr. Grasshopper clarified. "Since you chose not to be responsible, you will be the one to suffer the consequences."

"Oh yeah? I'm gonna tell my teacher you didn't do my homework like Grandma does!"

"Good idea; we'll tell her together." Centipede grinned at Dylan and pointed to the coat rack. "Get your coat and hat and let's go!"

"You're gonna be in trouble!"

"We'll see."

"If my homework's not done, my teacher's gonna be mad at you!" Dylan's face reddened as his voice rose.

"Dylan, hurry and get ready." Centipede rolled his eyes, putting on his own coat.

"I'm gonna make sure-"

"Come, James, let us go ahead." Miss Spider slipped James's coat over his shoulders, allowing her son to slide his arms into the sleeves. "Dylan and Centipede will join us shortly."

An angry shriek from Dylan punctuated Miss Spider's words, hinting that Dylan would likely have to be carried to school again. At least he and Miss Spider were able to leave the house before Dylan's tantrum really got started.

"Oh, that's why we only saw Miss Spider with you this morning," Tessa said as James finished telling the story.

"Yes. She was going to wait for Centipede to bring Dylan. I hope that..."

"Oh, don't worry, your family won't get in trouble."

James looked up to see Ricky grinning at him. The dark-haired boy was busy shading a drawing as he continued,

"My big brother says that most teachers just make you stay in at recess if you don't do your homework, that's all. Dylan's probably just gonna have to do makeup work or something."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

James gave the matter some thought. "I guess it would be kind of foolish for Dylan to tell his teacher that his homework wasn't done because someone else didn't do it for him."

"That does sound kind of dumb."

"Do you think she'll get mad once she finds out Dylan's grandmother was doing his homework?"

"Maybe." Tessa tapped a finger on the table. "Remember that one science fair, Ricky?"

"What science fair?" James asked.

"It was back when we were in kindergarten. We got to see the sixth graders' science fair projects. One was this really amazing train set that ran off of steam. But it turned out the kid's father made it, not the kid, so the judges said it didn't count."

"Did the father get in trouble?"

"I don't remember. But our teacher gave us a really long talk about how when we're given projects or homework, we can't ask other people to do it and pretend we did because it's dishonest and sometimes against the law."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Mom told me later that it was like getting someone to write a story and pretending you wrote it instead."

"Oh, yeah, that's not fair," James agreed. "And I guess it's not fair if you turn in homework and you didn't really do it."

"Yeah. But why would Dylan's grandma even do his homework in the first place?"

"I don't know. But Mrs. Ladybug told me she's bringing Dylan over to see her at the hospital today and they're going to have a talk with her."

"Think it'll make things better?"

"I hope so."

But of course, such a hope would not come to pass.