Ch. 12

The end of school bell, the sound of freedom most if not all children look forward to by 3:00, had barely finished ringing and already the hallways were packed. The main topic of gossip was the upcoming Friday's early dismissal due to the weather.

"Isn't that great?"

"Yeah. I love eating lunch at home."

"Me too. Mom said she'll make me hot chocolate with mine."

"And we never get homework on Fridays!"

'I know. I can't wait to go to the park."

"But it's gonna get cold, remember?"

"Dad says that won't happen till later. We should be able to go to the park for a little bit."

"I hope so."

The conversations swirled around James as he made his way to the front doors of the school. Tessa had stayed behind to ask Ms. Devon something while Ricky was going to Adam's house to work on their project together. As such, James fully expected to make his way over to the school gates alone. But to his surprise, a bulky form pushed against his shoulder as he stepped out into the chilly afternoon.

"Hi, Dylan."

"Thanks a lot." The older boy was scowling at James.

"Are you okay?"

"No! I missed recess 'cause of you!"

James froze, feeling an all-too familiar sense of dread course through him. "Me?" he managed to whisper. "But I-"

"It's all your fault." Dylan pushed by James, kicking at the ground. James followed after him, trying to explain as he did.

"But, we don't even have the same class."

"It's still your fault."

"I didn't-" James felt his mouth drying out and his heart speeding up. Voices that refused to leave his memory hissed angrily in his ear.

Why didn't you do what you were told?

Stupid brat, it's YOUR fault. Now we'll have to teach you a lesson!

"Is it because of your homework? I didn't-"

"Yeah! Thanks to you, I had to stay inside and my dumb teacher gave me extra work. And then she got mad at me 'cause I didn't wanna do it!"

"But if your teacher tells you to do something, you have to do it."

"Nu-uh! I don't have to! And if you had just-"

"Dylan!"

In Dylan's anger, he had failed to notice he and James had been walking directly toward the front of the school where Centipede and Mrs. Ladybug were waiting. From the looks on their faces, the two had clearly heard the tail end of the conversation and were not happy about it.

"You seriously blamin' Jimmy for not doin' your homework?" Centipede asked, his brow furrowed as Mrs. Ladybug moved to wrap her arms around James.

"You didn't do it, so he should have,"

"Don't you dare blame James for your actions, young man!" Mrs. Ladybug scolded. "For one thing, he wouldn't have been able to do your homework as he's a year below you and hasn't learned what you have. But even were that not the case, it is your responsibility and yours alone to do your schoolwork!"

"Grandma says I don't have to so that means you have to do it!"

"Well, we can ask her about that. Believe me, I have a lot to discuss with her today."

"Good. Now you can get in trouble for everything," Dylan sneered. "I hope you go to jail!"

"Nice try, not happenin'." Centipede rolled his eyes before turning to James as Mrs. Ladybug gave him one final reassuring hug before letting him go. "C'mon, kid, let's get home. Wanna get ice cream first?"

"Hey!"

"No thanks. I'm already cold," James answered. All the same, he returned Centipede's smile, knowing his guardian was mostly offering to cheer him up.

"Fair enough. How 'bout some hot chocolate when he get back to the Pit?"

"Yes please."

"No fair!"

"Come along, Dylan." Mrs. Ladybug took Dylan's arm in two of her hands. "Your grandmother's waiting."

"I want ice cream and hot chocolate! It's not fair." Dylan's whine trailed off as Mrs. Ladybug pulled him in the opposite direction.

"Good luck!" Centipede called. "Something tells me they'll need it."

"Do you think Dylan's grandmother will be angry?" James asked as the two set off back to Central Park.

"I dunno, Jimmy-boy. I may be soundin' like Earthworm, but I got a bad feeling about this. Dylan didn't learn that behavior from nowhere."

James nodded, leaning close to Centipede as the two made their way down the street that led to entrance of Central Park.

"You okay?"

"Yes."

"Uh-huh, and Earthworm's been lookin' on the bright side all day. C'mon, kid, it's alright. You can tell me what's really on your mind."

"Well, I..." James sighed. "I don't want Dylan to get in trouble, but..."

"But you kinda do after the way he's been actin'?"

James looked up in surprise, but Centipede was smiling. The tall bug rubbed the top of James's head with several hands and laughed. "Can't blame you there, kid."

"But, isn't that bad?"

"No way. Someone does something bad, you wanna see him get what's comin' to him. That's part of life, Jimmy. You didn't want your hag aunts gettin' off scot-free, didja?"

"Dylan's not that bad!"

"I know, but he ain't exactly pleasant, is he?"

"No," James admitted. "But I still feel a little bad about wanting him to get punished."

"Believe me, it sure ain't fun havin' to punish a kid. But at the same time, it ain't fair to you if we don't. You didn't do a thing wrong, kiddo, no matter what Dylan says. And if you want to see him put in his place when he acts out, it ain't cause you're bad; it just means you believe in things bein' fair, that's all."

"Really?"

"Really." Centipede grinned and wrapped James in a few of his arms. "Besides, you ain't got a mean bone in your body, kid. If you think Dylan earned a punishment, it's 'cause he did."

Cheered somewhat, James wrapped his own small arms around his guardian. "Thanks, Centipede."

"No problem. C'mon, let's get you inside. Angel Fangs'll kill me if I keep you out in the cold."

As it turned out, Miss Spider seemed to anticipate the duo's desire for hot chocolate because by the time James and Centipede shed their winter coats and shoes, she had placed three steaming mugs of the decadent drink on the table along with a plate of hot toast and blackberry jam.

"How was your day at school, James?"

"It was good. We got to do more work on our projects so I don't have a lot to do now. But I do need to make sure everything fits together."

"Still not givin' us a clue on what it is?"

"No. I really want to surprise you."

"I am sure it will be wonderful," Miss Spider assured her son, reaching out to run a hand through his hair. "But is all truly well with you?"

"Yes. I'm alright." James hoped he sounded convincing enough, but he did note the quick glance Centipede and Miss Spider shared. No doubt Centipede would tell Miss Spider what Dylan had said to him outside the school, but that was alright as far as James was concerned. Despite Centipede's assurance, he still felt uneasy about wanting to see Dylan disciplined and the older boy's tirade hadn't helped.

Maybe because it felt so familiar.

Maybe. But this time, he wasn't going to be unfairly punished.

And it's okay if Dylan gets punished instead.

Well, since he did something wrong, yes. But still, James wished Dylan would just start behaving so neither of them would have to worry about such a thing.

He won't if his grandmother tells him it's okay to be bad.

James decided not to dwell on that thought, which was easy enough to do thanks to the hot chocolate and blackberry jam toast. That, plus the company of his family, helped James feel a good deal better by the time he had finished.

"Besides your project, have you much homework, my James?"

"Not too much. We're having another math test and a spelling test on Friday morning, so Ms. Devon wants us to study what we've learned."

"Yeah, well, you're great at both, so no problem there."

"I still have to study."

"Of course you do, but I am certain you will do just fine. And we are both eager to see what project you have come up with."

James nodded. "I'm going to go work on it now."

"No problem. Hey, Angel, you want some help in the kitchen?"

Miss Spider glanced at Centipede, then at James before turning her attention back to Centipede again. "Yes, thank you. I am certain you will be a big help."

James took his leave as both bugs headed for the kitchen where, courtesy of Centipede, Miss Spider would learn exactly what the older boy had said to James. No doubt she wouldn't be happy with Dylan's recent behavior and James had a sinking feeling that Miss Spider (as well as the rest of his family) would worry about him even more because of it.

At least they don't know about your nightmare.

Yes, at least that. They had enough to worry about now and besides, his nightmare was over and done with. Really, it wasn't worth worrying about.

Unless you have another one tonight.

In response, James flicked on his lamp, flooding his dim room with cozy yellow light. Setting his backpack down by his desk, James caught sight of one of his stuffed animals on the floor by his bed. Picking it up, James recognized it as the otter toy he'd gotten late last summer. Both he and Tessa were currently collecting as many small stuffed animals as they could, as said collections led to many long games of make-believe of fantasy animal worlds and quests to find lost objects or to defeat evil enemies. Once, their game had taken over the entire back porch of the Peach Pit, much to the amusement and amazement of both of their families, and both children were currently planning the next part of the animals' adventure. The otter toy in question, a pretty little female, had also been a star when it came to the racing game, but only when paired with the large diesel truck currently resting on James's toy shelf.

With a smile, James placed the otter on the truck's cab where she she seemed to make herself quite comfortable. A sudden thought occurred to the little boy as he spoke to the otter.

"I think you can help me with my project too. Once it's finished, I'll show you."

The otter didn't say anything, but James was feeling a surge of creativity as he pulled his project out from under his bed. All thoughts of Dylan vanished as James lost himself in his work and by the time he had finished his task, the little boy was as happy as could be.

The same could not be said for others.
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Hospitals are rarely cheerful places, but Mrs. Ladybug's line of work was usually the exception. The arrival of new babies was almost always a happy occasion and all of the doctors and nurses who worked in the Maternity Ward loved seeing the joy on every new parent's face. But for every new baby welcomed into the world, there were children who had to be taken from their homes and placed with a new family due to unhappy circumstances. That was were Ms. Gould's line of work usually took her and Mrs. Ladybug knew the social worker did everything she could to make the experience as easy as possible on all parties involved.

Thus far, however, nothing about Dylan had been easy.

The whole journey to the hospital, Dylan had dragged his feet and whined.

"I wanna get ice creeeeeeeaaaaam."

"Absolutely not."

"I want it."

"Dylan, you're not having any sweets and that's final. Now hurry along; your grandmother is waiting."

"I want ice creeeeeeaaaaam!"

By the time the two had reached the hospital, Dylan was red-faced and his voice was cracking. Thankfully, Mrs. Ladybug was spared from having to drag Dylan through the lobby (where the gift shop's displays of toys and candy tempted children in various states of health) and instead guided the older boy through a smaller door that led to a corridor of staff offices and supply rooms. Dylan's high-pitched whine echoed through the thankfully empty hallway as the older boy allowed his legs to give out from under him and he sank to the floor in a ball of self-imposed misery.

"Oh, for Heaven's sake, Dylan!"

"I want ice cream! My stupid teacher made me do more work, so I should get ice cream!"

"You didn't do your homework, so you had to make it up. You most certainly do not deserve ice cream after the way you've been acting. Now come along."

"I hate you! I hate you! I-"

"Oh my, you were not exaggerating!"

Mrs. Ladybug turned to see Ms. Gould striding down the hallway, her eyes wide and her hands clutching a manilla folder. She looked down at Dylan with a frown.

"What happened?"

"She's mean!" Dylan pointed t Mrs. Ladybug from his prone position. "She didn't get me ice cream and she didn't do my homework and-"

"I see." Ms. Gould frowned before turning to Mrs. Ladybug. "I've been going over Dylan's family history and I interviewed a few of the Andersons' neighbors this morning. They had some interesting stories to tell."

"I'm not surprised. I have a few stories to share with Amelia Anderson myself."

"I'm sure you do. Well, Dr. Harmond just gave me the all-clear." Raising her voice, Ms. Gould called,

"Dylan, your grandmother really wants to see you. Please get up and follow us."

Sniveling, Dylan sat up and glared at Ms. Gould. "I wanna go home with Grandma. I hate it at the other place. They don't let me watch TV and they give me gross food!"

Ms. Gould sighed and gave Mrs. Ladybug an apologetic look as Dylan struggled to his feet. The older boy kept his head down as he followed both of them down the corridor and up a short flight of stairs. This shortcut brought the trio into the wing of private rooms, some of which were silent while through other doors, the soft hum of a television or radio could be heard.

Ms. Gould paused outside of a door that was slightly ajar. "She's waiting for you, Dylan."

The older boy's scowl didn't change and he still stomped his feet as he made his way into the room. The curtains on the single window were drawn, filling the room with grey winter light. The television set was already on, set to a show filled with dim poolrooms and gun-toting gangsters. Amelia Anderson was propped up on the single bed, her face set in an expression of tired joy as she beheld her grandson.

"Dylan Angel!"

"Grandma!" Dylan raced over to the bed, his voice taking on a familiar whine. " I hate living with the bug people! They don't let me watch TV and they don't give me good food and my teacher got mad at me 'cause-"

"You're starving my grandson?" Amelia looked over at Mrs. Ladybug and Ms. Gould in horror as she tried to wrap her arms, one of which was connected to an IV around Dylan's pudgy body. The older boy shrugged off the embrace and settled on the bed, his eyes already glued to the television.

"Of course not," Mrs. Ladybug assured her. "But I am concerned that-"

Amelia turned away, reaching toward her bedside table. "Here you are, sweetie. I kept your favorite cookies for you." From inside the drawer, Amelia drew forth a full bag of decadent-looking chocolate cookies, which Dylan eagerly grabbed. Tearing them open, the older boy began gulping down the sweet treat, crumbs spilling from his mouth as he continued to stare at the screen.

Sharing a glance, Ms. Gould and Mrs. Ladybug drew up two chairs, which had been placed in the room earlier that day. As she sat down, Mrs. Ladybug took a moment to study Dylan's grandmother. The woman hadn't even reached her 50th year yet, but her face was already lined and her yellow hair streaked with grey. Still, if Mrs. Ladybug had to guess, the greying hair and faces lines came not from age, but from weariness and Amelia's hospital visit certainly wasn't helping. Like her grandson, Amelia Anderson was on the round side, but the flesh around her face was growing flabby and her arms were beginning to wither with folds of loose skin dangling from near her elbows. But her grey eyes were glittering with anger and her thin lips were set in a firm line.

"I can't believe you would treat my poor baby so cruelly. Really, I thought so much better of you."

"Mrs. Anderson, I assure you that my family and I have not in any way mistreated your grandson. I cannot, however, assure you, that Dylan has behaved himself."

"Nonsense. My Dylan's a sweet boy!"

Mrs. Ladybug sighed, knowing exactly what kind of parental figure she was about to deal with. "Mrs. Anderson, in the short time Dylan has been with us, he has acted in a manner I would never have expected from a boy his age. Already, he has thrown several temper tantrums more befitting of toddlers over very simple requests and been quite rude to all of my family, including our own son. As to starving him, we would never. We have simply denied him sweets or desserts due to his behavior. The same applies to his television privileges; he refused to behave, so he is not allowed to enjoy television."

"How dare you!" Amelia cried. "How could you ever even think of imposing such harsh treatment on my little angel! Why, such mistreatment should be-"

"Mrs. Anderson, as the social worker overseeing this case, I can safely assure you that your grandson has experienced absolutely no mistreatment whatsoever," Ms. Gould cut in.

"You don't consider denying him necessities to be mistreatment?"

"Television and sweets are not necessities," Mrs. Ladybug said firmly. "Healthy meals, set bedtimes, and responsibility for one's education are. Not to mention, of course, good manners and appropriate entertainment." The insect doctor waved a hand at the television screen, where a group of men where punching each other with brass knuckles. "Take this show, for example. Is this really something a boy Dylan's age should be watching?"

"Of course, if it makes him happy!"

"Yeah!" Dylan took a moment to sneer at Mrs. Ladybug before stuffing another cookie into his full mouth.

"Taking away what makes a child happy only leads to disaster, believe me." Amelia gave Mrs. Ladybug a haughty look. "I would learn that if I were you unless you want that boy of yours to end up in a bad way."

"I will thank you not to speak about my son that way. Though speaking of James, Dylan's behavior towards him has also been a problem."

"What did he do to you, honey?" Amelia swiftly asked Dylan.

"I beg your pardon?"

"He got me in trouble with my teacher."

"Well? Explain that!"

"Certainly." Mrs. Ladybug met Mrs. Anderson's indignant expression with her own furious glare. "Yesterday, Dylan refused to due his homework and demanded either I or another adult in the house complete it for him. Naturally, we refused, as it is Dylan who needs to complete whatever assignments his teacher gives him. We gave Dylan ample opportunity to do his homework, but he refused. As such, we informed his teacher of his refusal and left the decision in her hands. Somehow, though, Dylan decided it was James's fault that he was refused recess as, apparently, a seven-year-old should have offered to do a nine-year-old's homework."

"Is this true?" Ms. Gould asked, casting a disbelieving look in Dylan's direction.

"He got to go to recess. I didn't. It's not fair."

"I'll say it's not! Why didn't you do Dylan's homework when he made it clear he didn't want to do it?"

"Mrs. Anderson, as I've explained, it is your grandson's responsibility to complete his school assignments. We would have been happy to help him, of course, but not do the work for him."

"And why not? Dylan's homework must be completed."

"I agree," Mrs. Ladybug replied. "And Dylan must be the one to do it."

"Dylan hates homework. I would never force my poor baby to do something he hated!" Amelia reached over to rub Dylan's back. "Poor Dylan, punished for someone else's fault. This is just unacceptable."

Dylan ignored his grandmother as he continued to stuff cookies into his mouth and watch a gangster threaten another with a knife on the television screen.

"From what Dr. Ladybug has informed me, Amelia, it is your grandson's behavior that is unacceptable."

"Ridiculous! If Dylan was upset, it was because of what those... whatever they are did!"

"Mrs. Anderson, my family and I consider the welfare of any child under our care to be our highest priority. Dylan's anger stemmed from the fact that we insisted he eat healthy meals, do his homework, and go to bed at a reasonable time for a boy his age. Dylan's response every time has been outright defiance coupled with a temper tantrum. As such, we used our status as his temporary guardians to refuse him privileges such as dessert or television. I should also add that these are just temporary measures and Dylan may earn those privileges back once he starts behaving."

"Are you hearing this?" Amelia turned her furious gaze on Ms. Gould.

"Indeed I am," the social worker answered "And what Dr. Ladybug and her family are doing is not just reasonable, but responsible behavior I would expect from any parent."

"She just admitted to starving my grandson!"

"No, she admitted to refusing Dylan sweets as a punishment. I presume you have allowed him to eat, Dr. Ladybug?"

"Of course; I would never send a child to bed hungry."

"Look at him; he's starving!"

Dylan turned his eyes away from the television as a commercial advertising laundry detergent flashed across the screen. His dumped the last of the cookies into his mouth, scattering crumbs over the bed. "I want more cookies; I'm still hungry."

"See?"

"Dylan, did you eat the lunch I packed you?"

"No. It was gross."

"What did you give him?"

"Ham and cheese on white, something I was informed Dylan likes. Incidentally, my own son also enjoys that kind of sandwich, so he had the same thing. Both boys were also given an apple and some carrot sticks. I will admit that, yes, James received a few chocolate chip biscuits with his lunch, but that was because he had done nothing to warrant the refusal of sweets on his end."

"So you have been unfair."

"And their breakfasts were gross too." Dylan stuck out a chocolate-streaked tongue at Mrs. Ladybug before the return of his show captured his attention once more.

"So, not only are you treating the boys unfairly, you're forcing Dylan to eat what he doesn't like?"

"We would never force him to eat something he doesn't care for; we merely ask that he be polite about refusing the food. Something he has not done. Though speaking of Dylan's diet, I am concerned about how many sweets Dylan has demanded. Just this morning, he wanted chocolate pancakes with chocolate syrup."

"That's his favorite breakfast. Did you make it for him?"

"Certainly not!"

"So you did starve him!"

"No. We had regular pancakes, bacon, toast, and berries. He was welcome to all of it, yet chose to barely eat."

"Humph, some doctor you are, not making sure a child is fed."

"Once again, Amelia, Dr. Ladybug and her family have in no way neglected your grandson. In fact, we were discussing Dylan's behavior yesterday and I myself was quite concerned." Ms. Gould tapped the folder on her lap. "I asked some of your neighbors about what they've observed abut you and Dylan and all of them have noted Dylan barely interacts with other children."

"Dylan is a quiet child."

"When he is seated in front of the television, perhaps, but hours upon hours of sitting in front of a screen isn't healthy for a child." Mrs. Ladybug frowned as more gunshots emitted from Dylan's current show. "Not to mention he seems to favor rather graphic programs, as I previously mentioned."

"If Dylan likes those shows, he can watch them. And if watching television makes him happy, why should I stop him?"

"Because as his caretaker, it is your responsibility to ensure Dylan is both happy and healthy. From what I've observed, your insistence on keeping Dylan happy has led to him developing very unhealthy behaviors."

"I know what's best for my grandson, doctor." Amelia's fingers clenched weakly at her blankets. "Take it from me, depriving a child of what makes them happy will only lead to heartache. And if a few extra sweets and more television makes Dylan happy, then I am happy to ensure he has it."

"And what of teaching him responsibility? Aside from his homework, Dylan has refused to perform even the simplest of household tasks, such as hanging up his coat or making his bed."

"He's a child; he shouldn't have to worry about such things."

"All children need to learn self-sufficiency. My own son has no trouble keeping his room tidy and caring for his own possessions and he's two years younger than Dylan."

"Humph, don't be shocked when he remembers that treatment and decides to leave you because of it. Blatant mistreatment, I call it!"

Mrs. Ladybug inhaled sharply and had to fight to control her voice. "I assure you, Mrs. Anderson," she said in her coolest voice, "James knows exactly what mistreatment is and I will thank you to never imply he would experience such a thing at our hands. And neither, for that matter, would Dylan."

"Good. Then you'll do his homework for him tonight?"

"Certainly not."

"You gotta! Grandma just said so!" Dylan, his attention once again diverted thanks to a commercial, looked smugly over at Mrs. Ladybug as Amelia nodded.

"Yes I did, Angel. You don't have to do anything you don't want to."

"While I cannot enforce our rules under your roof, Mrs. Anderson, nor may you do the same for my home. While Dylan lives with us, he must obey our rules and doing his homework himself is one of those rules."

"Then I don't wanna stay with you anymore!"

"Unfortunately you will have to for the time being," Ms. Gould replied. "Amelia, from what Dr. Harmond has told us, he will have your test results tomorrow morning. Depending on what they say, you may have to remain at the hospital or at least on bed rest for some time. As such, Dylan will need to remain with Dr. Ladybug and her family for some time."

"What? NO!"

"However," Ms. Gould continued over Dylan's protests. "If Dr. Harmond clears you to return home, I will of course return Dylan back to your care. But given what you have told us today, I am obligated to keep your case open and monitor your and Dylan's living situation more closely."

"Whatever for?"

"That remains to be seen, but unfortunately, we are out of time now. Dylan, you have five minutes to say goodbye to your grandmother. Dr. Ladybug, shall we give them some privacy?"

"Of course."

Together, the two of them stepped out into the hall as Dylan's protests over leaving, coupled with Amelia's attempts at soothing the nine-year-old, grew muffled as the door closed.

"Your thoughts, Dr. Ladybug?"

"Both appalled and disappointed, to be frank. Spiker and Sponge were awful, of course, but Amelia Anderson is a different kind of terrible. Dylan is no way going to flourish under her care. If anything, his development will be stunted, if not outright halted."

"I'm glad you agree."

"So, then, you're going to start the process to remove Dylan from his grandmother's care." Despite her feelings toward Amelia Anderson, Mrs. Ladybug couldn't keep the sigh out of her voice. Removing a child from the care of a loved one was never easy and rarely something to celebrate. And though it would help Dylan in the long run, Mrs. Ladybug knew the boy would be heartbroken at having to leave his grandmother.

"I'll wait for Dr. Harmond to give his verdict, but yes. Amelia has proven she's not able to care for Dylan properly and given that you've raised concerns over his health and behavior, I'm obligated to recommend a different long-term care plan for him."

"I know. I wish it hadn't come to this."

"Believe me, so do I. And I feel badly asking, but would you and your family be willing to continue caring for Dylan until a more permanent solution can be reached?"

"I'll need to discuss that with the rest of my family first, but at the very least, we'll keep him until Sunday, as agreed. Unless, of course, something else comes up."

"Of course. Thank you so much, Dr. Ladybug. And please extend my thanks to your family as well; I know this hasn't been easy on any of you."

"No, but perhaps that could change. Dylan has only been with us a few days after all; a consistent routine may benefit him in the long run. Again, though, I'll see what the rest of my family says."

"Certainly."

"If you don't mind me asking, Rachel, does Amelia's attitude toward caring for Dylan have something to do with why his parents aren't present in his life?"

"Yes." Ms. Gould flipped through the folder, pulling out copies of several pages. "I knew Amelia and her daughter were estranged, but I didn't know why. Speaking with the Andersons' neighbors shed a good deal of light on their situation."

Taking the papers, Mrs. Ladybug scanned them quickly, knowing she'd have to give them a more thorough reading when she got home. But even a quick read told Mrs. Ladybug enough that there would have be a long discussion between the family tonight after the children were in bed.

She only hoped that the outcome of said discussion would be the correct decision.