Ch. 16

Cold evening air puffed out in white clouds from the mouths of gasping children as they called their goodbyes after a lively game of hide-and-seek tag. Due to the designated home base being a good distance away from the best hiding places, the kids had (unbeknownst to them) run about two miles each over the course of their afternoon entertainment.

"See you tomorrow," Tessa told James. "What do you think, math or spelling first?"

"Probably spelling," James answered. "One more: neighborhood."

"N-e-i-g-h-b-o-r-h-o-o-d."

"Right!"

"Okay. Borough."

"B-o-r-o-u-g-h."

"Yes!"

"I think we're good. And remember what to do if you have to multiply and then add?"

"Yes. Multiply first, THEN add. Always."

"Right!"

"We'll be fine. And then we can just work on our projects again."

"I can't wait to try out your idea, James!" Tessa waved at her friend once more before running to catch up with her mother. "Bye!"

Chilly, but happy, James turned toward the cozy lights of the Peach Pit. Unlike his dream, the lamplight spilling out from the well-polished panes was as warm and inviting as the summer sun. And unlike his dream, the little boy knew he wouldn't have to worry about any cruel relatives lurking within.

Except Dylan.

Well, yes, there was Dylan, but the older boy had been quiet on the way home from school, not speaking a word to him or Centipede. That had been a relief, but James could tell Dylan had been upset about something. Oh well, at least he hadn't thrown a tantrum and James had been able to study his math and spelling in peace before going out to play.

He's probably going to try and get you in trouble.

James paused before reaching for the front door. Well, yes, Dylan had tried that yesterday, but Centipede and Mrs. Ladybug had quickly put a stop to that. And this morning, when Dylan had tried to fake being sick, Mr. Grasshopper had seen right through his act. And, if James were being honest, had Dylan actually met Spiker and Sponge and tried to blame his bad behavior on James, the little boy knew that neither of his aunts would have believed the older boy, but would have ended up punishing both of them. At least here, neither one of them had to worry about that!

The nagging voice in the back of James's mind had no response to this thought and James stepped into the warm interior of his house. For one moment, there was silence and then-

"NO!"

James started, feeling his stomach drop as he slowly pulled off his coat and hat.

"I am sorry, Dylan, but-"

"NO NO NO!" Dylan's furious shouts cut off Miss Spider's words. "I DON'T WANNA STAY HERE!"

"I get it, kid, you wanna go home. But the doctors said-"

"I HATE IT HERE!"

Hanging up his winter garments and setting his shoes in the drip tray, James padded into the living room. Dylan was sitting on the floor, flailing his arms and legs and his chubby face was its customary shade of red. Centipede and Miss Spider were standing over him, obviously trying to calm him down, but Dylan was having none of it.

"I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE IT HERE!"

"Dylan!"

"GO AWAY!" Dylan pushed himself to his feet and bolted for the stairs. His feet banged on the wood as he ran to the second floor and a few seconds later, the sound of a door slamming reached its way to those listening downstairs.

"Well, that went well," Centipede said with a sigh.

"What happened?" James asked, slowly approaching his two family members. "Did something bad happen to Dylan?"

"Mrs. Ladybug called," Miss Spider explained. "Dylan's grandmother is going to need an operation."

"Operation?" James asked. "Will she be okay?"

"The doctors are sure she'll be alright, but..." Centipede's voice trailed off as he scratched the back of his neck with several hands. "It's gonna be a while till she's back on her feet and the kind of sickness Dylan's grandmother's got can go from bad to worse on a dime. She's gonna need to stay in a different kind of hospital for a while after the surgery."

"Mrs. Ladybug said that before Dylan came here," James remembered. "Is Dylan going to be staying with us until his grandmother gets better?"

"I believe so," Miss Spider said. "It will be at least two more weeks until Dylan's grandmother is well enough to go home. Provided, of course, nothing else happens."

"Oh." James glanced up the stairs again. "No wonder he's so upset. Dylan must be really homesick and missing his grandmother."

"Doubt that's all he's missing."

"True, but James is correct. I am guessing he was looking forward to going home on Sunday."

"And now he can't." Despite Dylan's behavior, James found himself suddenly flooded with sadness for the older boy. There was nothing worse than being told you couldn't go home and be with your family. True, Dylan would get to go home eventually, but two weeks was a long time and it was sure to feel longer when you couldn't see your family every day.

Or do whatever you want.

Well, yes, that too. Dylan had probably also been hoping he'd get to go back to eating nothing but sweets, watching all the television he wanted, and not having to go to school every day. It was what the older boy was used to, after all, even if it wasn't good for him. But even if Dylan's home life wasn't the best, it was still his home and James knew what it was like to miss your home.

"Miss Spider, could I go talk to Dylan?"

Miss Spider paused, then nodded. "If you wish to, my James. Perhaps... perhaps it would do him good to be able to speak to someone close to his age."

"You sure though, Jimmy? He ain't exactly been friendly to you."

"I know. But..." James glanced toward the stairs again. "I still feel bad for him."

"You are a very good boy, my James," Miss Spider said, pulling her son to her.

Centipede shook his head, but still grinned and reached down to ruffle the little boy's hair. "Yeah, you're the best of 'em, kid. Go and see if you can reason with Dylan. Hey, maybe it'll do him some good!"
************************************************************************************************************************************

"Dylan?" James knocked on the door of the guest room. "Are you there?"

"What do you want?"

"May I come in? I just want to talk."

"About what?"

James cracked open the door and peered inside. He hadn't been inside the guest room since he'd helped Mrs. Ladybug set it up for Dylan's arrival, but the little boy was still surprised at the current state of Dylan's current bedroom. The bed was unmade and the pillows scattered across the room. Dylan's suitcase was open and pushed into a corner, but plenty of brightly colored comic books were spilling out from the container, some of the pages wrinkled and bent. Dirty clothes were scattered over the floor and Dylan's pajamas were flung over the side of his desk. The clean smell of lavender polish and freshly washed linens had been replaced by the odors of stale sweat and damp wool, but Dylan didn't seem bothered. He sat sulking on his bed and glaring at James as the little boy gingerly made his way over to join him.

"I know you're upset about not being able to go home and I know how you feel," James said, sitting down on the bed next to Dylan.

"How do you know that?"

"Well, I had to leave my home too."

"When?"

"When Mum and Dad died."

"Wait, you had parents?"

"Well yes." James blinked in confusion. Everyone had parents, didn't they? "Mum and Dad and I used to live by the sea in England. We would swim and play in the sand and go on walks together."

"That sounds boring."

"It wasn't, though. Dad even had his own boat and would take me and Mum out on it sometimes." James looked down at his hands. "I was really happy then and I never thought anything bad would happen. But then, Mum and Dad died."

"How'd they die?"

"A rhino ate them."

Dylan snorted. "Yeah, right."

"No, really, it's true. There was a horrible storm and... Mum and Dad never came home. Everyone who saw it said it looked just like a rhino came out of the clouds and swallowed them, so everyone said they were eaten by a rhino. That's why I had to leave my home."

"Why'd you have to leave?" Dylan asked. "It was your home."

"I know, but I couldn't stay there anymore. A lot of grownups started showing up and I even had a case worker like you did. But... she wasn't very nice."

"Like Ms. Gould."

"Oh no, Ms. Gould is nice. The case worker I had told me I had to leave my house right away and live with my aunts. She made me pack only a few clothes and wouldn't let me take any toys or games or anything. She also said the bank was going to sell my house and everything in it because Mum and Dad had to pay them."

"Why?"

"I don't know. I didn't really understand what was going on and I was really sad about Mum and Dad. I was crying a lot and I was scared because I didn't want to leave and I didn't know my aunts."

Dylan stared at James in confusion. "What? You never met them before?"

"No. I didn't even know I had aunts. Mum and Dad always said they didn't have any other family."

"What about your grandma?"

"All of my grandparents died when my parents were young. Mum lived with a great-aunt and Dad lived with his aunt and uncle and cousins. But they had all died or had gone away somewhere and never visited. My aunts lived in England, so I had to go live with them. And they..."

James paused, remembering the feeling of stepping into Spiker and Sponge's home for the first time. He'd still been crying a little over his parents and the old crumbling house his aunts called home looked like something out of a scary story. The little boy felt a shudder run through him as he could feel Spiker's vice-like grip on his arm as she pulled him through the house and hear the harsh insulting words of both his aunts as they berated him for "forcing this burden on them" and "being a disgusting creature we have to look after for years." Then, being practically thrown into a dark attic room and locked in for the night, scared, cold, hungry, and alone.

"What? Were your aunts mean?"

"Really mean."

"Did they not let you watch TV or eat cookies and make you do homework?"

"Well, they didn't have a television."

"Why not?"

"I don't know. But... what Auntie Spiker and Auntie Sponge did to me was way worse than not being able to watch television."

Dylan snorted. "Yeah, right. "

"It's true," James said softly.

"Yeah? How bad was it?" Dylan asked with a sneer.

"They yelled at me all the time. They called me names and said how stupid and worthless I was and how Mum and Dad were the same."

"You should have called them names right back."

"That just would have made things worse."

"How? They just yelled at you."

"That's not all they did." James glanced at Dylan. "I know you hate not being able to have sweets; I missed having them too. But at least here, you're allowed to eat."

"You mean they didn't give you anything?"

"Not really. Sometimes they'd give me something, but it was always a little bit of bread or a small piece of fruit or something like that. If I was really lucky, they would let me have leftovers when they had a really big dinner. But other times, they didn't give me anything at all.

"They also made me do all the work around the house. I had to clean everything and chop wood and rake the yard. Anything they told me to do, I had to do it."

"I wouldn't have." Dylan crossed his arms. "They couldn't make me do anything."

"Spiker and Sponge could."

"Yeah? How?"

James looked down at his hands again, his mouth dry and his heart starting to pound. "They... they would beat me."

"Beat you?"

James nodded, his eyes still cast down.

"They would actually hit you?"

"Yes. Whenever they got mad." James bit his lip as old unpleasant memories began surfacing in his mind. "Sometimes, they'd make me work the whole day and then after they let me go to bed, they'd come into my room and yell at me for something I hadn't done and beat me then. And I'd still have to do even more chores the next day."

Dylan stared at James, his eyes narrowed and his mouth slightly open. The little boy sighed and shook his head, trying to banish the past.

"I love my family and I love living here, but I still miss my parents and our home in England. And I know you miss your grandmother and your home and-"

"You're a liar!"

James froze. "I... I..."

"Grown-ups don't hit kids! And they aren't allowed to not give them food or make them work! Grandma told me that, so you're a liar!"

"I-I-I know they're not supposed to," James stammered. "But they did it anyway and-"

"Nu-uh! You're just making that up!" Dylan jumped to his feet and glared at the younger boy. "Liar!"

You lying little beast!

Liars deserve to be punished!

"I-I-I'm not making it up. I-" James felt himself shaking and his breath came in short bursts as he tried to speak. "My aunts really were horrible to me!"

"Yeah? Are your aunts in jail?"

"Yes! They got in big trouble when I first came to New York because they tried to hurt me with axes and-"

"Liar! I saw something like that on TV! That doesn't happen in real life! You're just making it up!"

"A whole lot of people saw them do it," James protested. "You can ask anyone! Your grandmother probably-"

"Why would I have to ask? I already know you're just a stupid liar!" Despite their closeness in size, James found himself shrinking away from Dylan as the older boy continued to berate him. "In fact, I bet your aunts didn't do anything bad to you! And even if they did- and they didn't- you deserved it!"

"DYLAN!"

Neither boy had realized Dylan's bedroom door was open and now both Miss Spider and Centipede stood framed in the doorway, their expressions a mix of furious and horrified.

"What?" Dylan scowled back at them. "Go away! I don't wanna talk to you!"

Miss Spider ignored the older boy in favor of her son. In a swift motion, she had enfolded James in her arms and pulled him away from Dylan. James nearly collapsed against her, burying his face against as Miss Spider's neckerchief as hot tears beaded in his eyes and he bit his lip hard to stifle any sobs. Centipede wrapped a few arms around James's shaking shoulders as he fixed Dylan with a narrowed eye of his own.

"Geez, Dylan, really?"

"What? I didn't do anything!" Dylan yelled back as he pointed a furious finger at James. "He's the liar! He's the one who-"

"That is enough!" Miss Spider hissed, narrowing her eyes and baring her fangs. That was enough to silence Dylan for the moment, but the older boy quickly resumed to pouting.

"Not my fault he's a liar!"

James felt Miss Spider's hold on him tighten, but before she could say anything else, Centipede spoke up.

"I think you better stay in your room, Dylan. We gotta lot to talk about later. Angel, let's get our boy outta here, yeah?"

"Yes. Come, James."

Dylan scowled and flopped back down on his bed as the two bugs left with James sandwiched between them. James continued to hold onto Miss Spider as his guardians led him into his own room. Guiding the little boy to his bed, Miss Spider held James close as he leaned against her. Centipede, meanwhile, sat down next to his son, rubbing the little boy's back and hair as gently as he could.

"Shhh, my James, everything is alright," Miss Spider soothed as best she could. She kissed the side of his forehead and stroked his cheek with her gloved hand as she held him close.

"Don't worry about anything Dylan was sayin', kid. It ain't just schoolwork he don't know."

James didn't respond as he was too busy trying not to cry. A few tears slipped out of his eyes regardless and Miss Spider's soft hand brushed them away. The gentle touch was enough to stem the flow and after a few more minutes of comforting embraces and loving words, James felt silent sobs stop. Taking a deep breath, James opened his eyes and sat up.

"Are you alright?"

"I... I think so."

"That was rough on you, wasn't it, kid?"

James nodded, leaning a little closer against Centipede. The many-armed bug squeezed his little boy to him, shaking his head.

"Sorry about that, Jimmy."

"It's not your fault," James said softly.

"And nor is it yours, James." Miss Spider gently cupped James's face in her hands, meeting his brown eyes with all four of her own. "Centipede and I heard everything Dylan said to you and you did nothing to deserve it. In fact, we are so very proud of you for trying to help Dylan like you did."

"Yeah, most people would tell Dylan he got the better end of the deal comin' to stay with us. But you still felt bad for him just 'cause he can't go home to his TV and grandma right away." Centipede winked at James and grinned. "You're a way better person than I am, Jimmy-boy."

"We know that, Centipede."

"Hey!"

James laughed softly at his guardian's indignation, causing both bugs to smile back at him.

"There, better now, my James?" Miss Spider asked, brushing the last of the lingering tear streaks off James's cheeks.

"I think so."

"Mmm, perhaps an early bedtime would be best tonight."

"Okay. I do feel tired now."

"Yeah, but you ain't eaten yet."

"I know." James averted his eyes. "I... I don't feel so hungry."

Centipede and Miss Spider traded uncertain glances over James's head.

"We are the only ones home tonight, so I was going to let you and Dylan chose what you wanted for dinner. I have some canned onion soup; do you think you could eat some of that?"

"Okay."

"Very well. I will heat it up and bring it to you. But for now, lay down and rest."

"Atta boy. You're okay." Centipede stood up to let James stretch out on his bed. He ran his fingers through James's hair once more as Miss Spider kissed the little boy's forehead. "And while you're doin' that, Angel, why not let me deal with Dylan?"

"Are you certain?"

"Oh yeah, I got plenty to say."

"Are you... very angry?" James asked.

"Well... yeah, mainly 'cuase it's you who's hurt, kid. But don't worry; I got this." Centipede slumped against the door with a sigh. "I've been in the hot seat before when I was your age and, to be fair, I did mostly earn it. But that also taught me how I'd handle a kid in a jam and believe me, Dylan's in one heck of a jam right now."

"Okay."

"All will be well, James," Miss Spider assured him. "We will make sure of it."

James smiled as his two guardians left the room. Closing his eyes, the little boy allowed the calming atmosphere of his room to wash over him. Though Dylan's words still echoed in his mind, James could feel them fading away the way the tide covers the sand. In a few moments, the little boy was dozing in his warm bright room, completely at peace.

For now, anyway.