Harriet the Spy (2021–…): Season 1, Episode 2 - Episode #1.2 - full transcript
Are you kidding me?
Harriet, behave yourself.
It's so purple.
Ordinarily, I'd rather eat
crabgrass than go coat shopping,
but my mother said it was
either a new coat or no coat.
And since I'm allergic to
freezing to death…
You get the picture.
I look like a plum.
Hardly. Plums are sweet.
Try the next one.
Yikes.
Stupid zipper!
Is everything okay in there?
Why don't you ask her?
Get off of me, you coat.
Oh, I'd rather not.
It's trying to kill me.
Maybe I'll help.
My coat future looked bleak
until I saw it.
Color: Navy blue. Style: Peacoat.
Size: Children's medium.
It was perfect!
Little did I know that
wearing it would lead to
dark secrets, fiendish banana splits
and a staring contest to see
who would blink first:
Freedom or tyranny.
Before we get started on the new coat,
I want you to meet my old coat.
Found this peace button on the 6 train.
Used it to cover a moth hole.
I got lost in Central Park once.
That's where the prickers came from.
Most of the major stains are from
a mustard-related incident
from when I crashed my bike
into a hot dog man.
We've been through a lot together
and I felt guilty about moving on.
I'll never forget you, coat.
Now look away.
- What do you think?
- I still don't know if it's 100% me.
Just give it time.
Goodbye, buddy.
With my old coat,
when I ran fast or made sudden moves,
it made all these loud swish-swish noises.
This coat was silent as a shadow.
Also, when I put up the collar,
I feel like Jack London,
a great writer you should
definitely check out…
…who went on adventures
in the Great White North.
I told myself that if I could get
the tugboat captain to blow his horn,
then the peacoat would truly be
the coat for me.
By the time I got to school,
I loved my new coat
the way you love
a perfect song or a great book
or a tomato sandwich
sliced diagonally on white bread.
Then, as usual,
Marion Hawthorne ruined everything.
Please tell me that coat
isn't made by Smithers of London.
"Smithers of London."
You need to take it off. Now.
Why can't you wear something else?
Don't you have, like, 5,000 coats?
This is my only coat.
Oh, Harriet, I'm doing you a favor.
If you wear that, people are just
gonna think you're a copier.
How can I be a copier if I didn't know
you had the same coat?
Well, you knew it was
the kinda coat I would wear.
You act like you don't like me, Harriet,
but I know your dark little secret.
You want to be me.
I bought this coat because it's
totally, absolutely, incredibly...
Me.
Me!
Oh. Well, if you're so sure,
why don't we have a vote?
- A vote?
- Is the coat totally you or totally me?
Why don't we let the class decide?
Winner gets to wear the coat.
Here's a wild idea: We both wear the coat.
So you can be me?
I'm not...
Ever think that maybe
it's you who wants to be me?
I bet you do. I bet you definitely do!
You're the copier.
A coat vote? Why would you agree to that?
What was I supposed to do?
Marion kept saying that
I was trying to be her.
I could win.
But you've never beaten Marion
at anything.
I am aware of that.
You know what? It's just gonna end up
being some dumb popularity contest.
Yeah, for Marion.
But I'm gonna win by proving that
the only person I'm copying is
Harriet M. Welsch.
Ow! Get away. Dumb pigeons.
Harriet, with the coat vote looming,
any response to Marion Hawthorne saying
that you're a big copier?
What?
They say imitation is
the sincerest form of flattery.
But in the case of Harriet,
I would be happier
if she stopped trying to be me
and started trying to be herself.
Any questions?
Sorry.
We're on it. Super sorry.
Marion, can... can you tell us
why your coat is so you?
Need I say more?
So, why is your coat you, dare I ask?
It's me because it has
a secret pocket for my notebook.
It also has extra-deep side pockets,
which are perfect for storing
random junk I find on the street.
They're like a coat pocket museum.
I only have one coat, Marion,
because there's only one coat that's me.
How many coats do you have?
One.
- One?
- I got rid of the rest.
This coat is
a Smithers of London, Harriet.
My search is over.
- Wow, that's cool.
- Yeah, I know.
"My search is over."
I bet she has a hundred coats.
You're right. We just need proof.
Hey, Harriet. Pinky and I just wanna
let you know that you've got our vote.
We're tired of Marion always
making us feel like goobers.
It wasn't our fault.
Totally out of our control.
Thanks for your votes, guys.
- Harriet, Harriet!
- Spread the word.
Hey, guys.
I've broken down the sixth grade
into groups
so we could see
how people are going to vote.
Sport explained that Marion's
voting bloc is basically two groups.
There's the people who want to be
Marion Hawthorne.
Well, I don't actually wanna be Marion.
She's her and I'm me and...
Okay, I do wanna be Marion.
Mmm. I would like to be
Marion as well.
The other group was the people
who are afraid of Marion Hawthorne.
I'm scared of her, sure,
but not as scared as those guys.
Down here, we've got
the voters who might vote for you.
There was the new kid
who doesn't know anything.
Sorry, what's happening?
Then there was the people who don't care
because a coat vote, whatever that is,
seems dumb.
A coat is a coat. It's cold,
you put it on, you're warm. End of story.
Finally, there were
the kids with nothing to lose.
Deal with it.
What about Beth Ellen?
She always looks sad.
- I bet we could get her on our side.
- Yeah, that would be great.
She must know how many coats
Marion really has.
Too bad she's always
with Marion and Rachel.
Not in gym class.
I don't like climbing the ropes,
but I do like ringing that bell.
It's a little silly, but I like it too.
Not as silly as
this whole coat vote thing, am I right?
Beth Ellen, I need your help.
I can't.
What are you doin'?
How many coats does Marion have?
Welsch! One at a time on the ropes!
I'll be right down!
She says she only has one,
but I know that's not true!
I can't. She'll know it was me.
You don't have to say anything.
I'll just say a number.
If it's more than that, ring the bell.
Is it more than ten coats?
More than 20 coats?
Welsch!
Okay!
Thanks, Beth Ellen. Seriously.
Rope burn.
This is a big story, Bill.
Marion's not telling the truth.
My source says she's got
at least 20 coats.
I'm sorry, Harriet. I'm a journalist.
I need more proof than
two dings on a rope bell.
If Bill Kilroy needed proof,
there was only one way to get it.
But would it be worth the risk?
If Marion caught me,
she'd rat me out to my parents for sure.
They'd ground me for life or banish me
to a tower like that Rapunzel.
But maybe it didn't matter.
When you're lucky enough to find
a coat that's truly you,
maybe you just have to dig deep
and ask yourself,
"What would Jack London do?"
Silent as a shadow.
There it is.
Just need a better angle.
Almost there.
Just a little further.
Whoa, whoa, whoa!
I totally bit the biscuit on my mission.
But seeing Marion's death stare
makes me think about
how she treated Pinky Whitehead
and the Boy with the Purple Socks.
And it makes me wonder, what if
this coat vote isn't just about me?
It's late, Harriet.
I'm just thinking about things.
You can think them without being in bed
wearing your brand-new, expensive…
…ripped coat.
Harriet, I promised your parents
you'd take care of this one.
It's not a rip, it's a story.
A story?
A story where I make the world safe for
Pinky and the Boy with the Purple Socks
and anybody who's sick of being picked on
by Marion Hawthorne.
It's just something I gotta do.
Just tell me how it ends.
We will. Right, coat?
Happy Tuesday, Gregory School.
It's time for the morning announcements.
The weather today is gonna stay chilly,
with a chance of more snow flurries
this afternoon.
The hot lunch today is, um...
Wait, where'd that go?
Ah, yes. Sloppy joes.
The inspirational quote for today comes
from A. A. Milne's Christopher Robin…
Who says, "You're braver than you believe",
stronger than you seem
"and smarter than you... uh, you think."
You're not allowed to be in here.
It's an emergency.
Hello, Gregory School.
This is Harriet M. Welsch
with a special announcement
for the sixth grade.
Your vote tomorrow isn't just about
who gets to wear the coat, me or Marion.
It's also about freedom.
Freedom from Marion
always treating us like jerks.
But together, we've got a chance
to show her we deserve respect.
Freedom!
This peacoat is me. But it's you too.
We're all in this together,
and we're doing it for one thing:
Freedom.
Harriet, that was so great when you said...
Shh!
I will not be quiet!
Okay, I'll be quiet. Sorry.
- You've set me free.
- What?
I'm not afraid anymore.
I'll say it out loud.
Marion is such a pain!
Shh!
Because she likes my brother, Phillip.
He's in the seventh grade at St. Albans.
She's always bugging me about him.
"Does he have a girlfriend? And when's
his birthday? Can I come over?"
She's just using me.
Freedom!
Freedom!
This was it. It was happening.
Hi, Harriet. Hi, Carrie.
I was just counting up the votes.
I think we have a real chance tomorrow.
Check it out.
Amazing.
Janie, you gotta see this.
Why? It's over.
No, we're tied. Look.
I just got this.
Guess who's having a big
pre-coat vote party after school
for the whole sixth grade?
She's trying to bribe everybody.
It won't work.
It's a "make your own banana split" party.
Uh, my voters will know it's a bribe.
With a bottomless toppings bar.
Marion is gonna ask me
to invite my brother. I just know it.
And I will say,
"Nay. Harriet has set me free."
No. Carrie, you have to go.
And you have to invite Phillip.
I'm gonna make him my secret weapon.
He'll be there.
Hello, children.
Hello, Mrs. Hawthorne.
Come in, come in. Let me take your coats.
Take them where?
Harriet M. Welsch.
I didn't expect to see you here.
Sure can't say no
to a bottomless toppings bar.
No, you cannot.
Hi, Harriet.
Oh, my gosh. He's here.
Hi, Phillip.
Nice job getting him here.
I said he could have my banana split.
I'm going in.
Let me show you the ice cream bar.
Jackpot.
You want proof, Bill Kilroy?
I'll give you proof.
Carrie told me you were a music fan,
so I wanted to show you my new jukebox.
I got it for winning
the all-city talent show.
You win a lot of things.
Swimming, archery, gymnastics.
Spelling?
I won with the word "onomatopoeia."
I can spell that. O-N-O-M-A-T-P...
No, I... Wait, E-I...
In that moment,
the truth hit me right in the spleen.
I was never going to beat Marion
at anything ever,
until the end of time.
Some people are born to be perfect.
Other people are born to be scaredy-cats,
hiding in the back of a closet,
trying to take a picture
of a bunch of dumb coats.
Huh?
It was a love letter
from Marion to Phillip.
I realized I must've taken Marion's coat
when I left the party.
It was an honest mistake,
but one that could change
the course of history.
I just had to arrange a secret rendezvous.
Hey.
Sorry. They were both in a big pile.
I just grabbed yours by mistake.
Looking for this?
Give it back.
I could do that.
Or I could show it to, I don't know,
Phillip?
No, don't, please.
I'll do whatever you want.
I'll... I'll... I'll drop out
of the coat vote. You win.
After that dirty trick you pulled
with the banana split party,
I should publish it in the school paper.
But I'm not you.
Good luck with the coat vote today.
Really? But I... I thought...
I wanna win for real.
In the end,
the coat vote wasn't even close.
A bottomless toppings bar
beats freedom every time.
But still, there were
a few small victories.
Freedom!
Freedom.
Hey, wait up.
What?
I... I... I just wanna say,
I'm sorry for saying you were a copier.
There's no one like you,
Harriet M. Welsch,
and there probably never will be.
Thanks.
And I just wanna say that
somebody has to beat you someday,
and I hope it's me.
Keep hoping.
You know, I was thinking,
there's no reason
we both can't wear the coat.
I don't think
Smithers of London would mind.
Really?
For a second, I thought maybe
a new kind of era might be starting.
The "Harriet and Marion not becoming
friends or anything",
"but still weirdly getting along" era.
But when I got to school the next day,
it was almost a relief to see that
Marion was still Marion.
Where is your peacoat?
It wasn't me. Not like this coat.
- It's from Paris.
- Très chic, non?
And your coat is
totally you. I see that now.
It's ripped, it's dirty,
you've lost a button.
It's a total mess.
My coat wasn't a total mess.
It was a story.
And I couldn't wait to see the new places
it would take me
and the new things
I would get to write about.
Harriet, behave yourself.
It's so purple.
Ordinarily, I'd rather eat
crabgrass than go coat shopping,
but my mother said it was
either a new coat or no coat.
And since I'm allergic to
freezing to death…
You get the picture.
I look like a plum.
Hardly. Plums are sweet.
Try the next one.
Yikes.
Stupid zipper!
Is everything okay in there?
Why don't you ask her?
Get off of me, you coat.
Oh, I'd rather not.
It's trying to kill me.
Maybe I'll help.
My coat future looked bleak
until I saw it.
Color: Navy blue. Style: Peacoat.
Size: Children's medium.
It was perfect!
Little did I know that
wearing it would lead to
dark secrets, fiendish banana splits
and a staring contest to see
who would blink first:
Freedom or tyranny.
Before we get started on the new coat,
I want you to meet my old coat.
Found this peace button on the 6 train.
Used it to cover a moth hole.
I got lost in Central Park once.
That's where the prickers came from.
Most of the major stains are from
a mustard-related incident
from when I crashed my bike
into a hot dog man.
We've been through a lot together
and I felt guilty about moving on.
I'll never forget you, coat.
Now look away.
- What do you think?
- I still don't know if it's 100% me.
Just give it time.
Goodbye, buddy.
With my old coat,
when I ran fast or made sudden moves,
it made all these loud swish-swish noises.
This coat was silent as a shadow.
Also, when I put up the collar,
I feel like Jack London,
a great writer you should
definitely check out…
…who went on adventures
in the Great White North.
I told myself that if I could get
the tugboat captain to blow his horn,
then the peacoat would truly be
the coat for me.
By the time I got to school,
I loved my new coat
the way you love
a perfect song or a great book
or a tomato sandwich
sliced diagonally on white bread.
Then, as usual,
Marion Hawthorne ruined everything.
Please tell me that coat
isn't made by Smithers of London.
"Smithers of London."
You need to take it off. Now.
Why can't you wear something else?
Don't you have, like, 5,000 coats?
This is my only coat.
Oh, Harriet, I'm doing you a favor.
If you wear that, people are just
gonna think you're a copier.
How can I be a copier if I didn't know
you had the same coat?
Well, you knew it was
the kinda coat I would wear.
You act like you don't like me, Harriet,
but I know your dark little secret.
You want to be me.
I bought this coat because it's
totally, absolutely, incredibly...
Me.
Me!
Oh. Well, if you're so sure,
why don't we have a vote?
- A vote?
- Is the coat totally you or totally me?
Why don't we let the class decide?
Winner gets to wear the coat.
Here's a wild idea: We both wear the coat.
So you can be me?
I'm not...
Ever think that maybe
it's you who wants to be me?
I bet you do. I bet you definitely do!
You're the copier.
A coat vote? Why would you agree to that?
What was I supposed to do?
Marion kept saying that
I was trying to be her.
I could win.
But you've never beaten Marion
at anything.
I am aware of that.
You know what? It's just gonna end up
being some dumb popularity contest.
Yeah, for Marion.
But I'm gonna win by proving that
the only person I'm copying is
Harriet M. Welsch.
Ow! Get away. Dumb pigeons.
Harriet, with the coat vote looming,
any response to Marion Hawthorne saying
that you're a big copier?
What?
They say imitation is
the sincerest form of flattery.
But in the case of Harriet,
I would be happier
if she stopped trying to be me
and started trying to be herself.
Any questions?
Sorry.
We're on it. Super sorry.
Marion, can... can you tell us
why your coat is so you?
Need I say more?
So, why is your coat you, dare I ask?
It's me because it has
a secret pocket for my notebook.
It also has extra-deep side pockets,
which are perfect for storing
random junk I find on the street.
They're like a coat pocket museum.
I only have one coat, Marion,
because there's only one coat that's me.
How many coats do you have?
One.
- One?
- I got rid of the rest.
This coat is
a Smithers of London, Harriet.
My search is over.
- Wow, that's cool.
- Yeah, I know.
"My search is over."
I bet she has a hundred coats.
You're right. We just need proof.
Hey, Harriet. Pinky and I just wanna
let you know that you've got our vote.
We're tired of Marion always
making us feel like goobers.
It wasn't our fault.
Totally out of our control.
Thanks for your votes, guys.
- Harriet, Harriet!
- Spread the word.
Hey, guys.
I've broken down the sixth grade
into groups
so we could see
how people are going to vote.
Sport explained that Marion's
voting bloc is basically two groups.
There's the people who want to be
Marion Hawthorne.
Well, I don't actually wanna be Marion.
She's her and I'm me and...
Okay, I do wanna be Marion.
Mmm. I would like to be
Marion as well.
The other group was the people
who are afraid of Marion Hawthorne.
I'm scared of her, sure,
but not as scared as those guys.
Down here, we've got
the voters who might vote for you.
There was the new kid
who doesn't know anything.
Sorry, what's happening?
Then there was the people who don't care
because a coat vote, whatever that is,
seems dumb.
A coat is a coat. It's cold,
you put it on, you're warm. End of story.
Finally, there were
the kids with nothing to lose.
Deal with it.
What about Beth Ellen?
She always looks sad.
- I bet we could get her on our side.
- Yeah, that would be great.
She must know how many coats
Marion really has.
Too bad she's always
with Marion and Rachel.
Not in gym class.
I don't like climbing the ropes,
but I do like ringing that bell.
It's a little silly, but I like it too.
Not as silly as
this whole coat vote thing, am I right?
Beth Ellen, I need your help.
I can't.
What are you doin'?
How many coats does Marion have?
Welsch! One at a time on the ropes!
I'll be right down!
She says she only has one,
but I know that's not true!
I can't. She'll know it was me.
You don't have to say anything.
I'll just say a number.
If it's more than that, ring the bell.
Is it more than ten coats?
More than 20 coats?
Welsch!
Okay!
Thanks, Beth Ellen. Seriously.
Rope burn.
This is a big story, Bill.
Marion's not telling the truth.
My source says she's got
at least 20 coats.
I'm sorry, Harriet. I'm a journalist.
I need more proof than
two dings on a rope bell.
If Bill Kilroy needed proof,
there was only one way to get it.
But would it be worth the risk?
If Marion caught me,
she'd rat me out to my parents for sure.
They'd ground me for life or banish me
to a tower like that Rapunzel.
But maybe it didn't matter.
When you're lucky enough to find
a coat that's truly you,
maybe you just have to dig deep
and ask yourself,
"What would Jack London do?"
Silent as a shadow.
There it is.
Just need a better angle.
Almost there.
Just a little further.
Whoa, whoa, whoa!
I totally bit the biscuit on my mission.
But seeing Marion's death stare
makes me think about
how she treated Pinky Whitehead
and the Boy with the Purple Socks.
And it makes me wonder, what if
this coat vote isn't just about me?
It's late, Harriet.
I'm just thinking about things.
You can think them without being in bed
wearing your brand-new, expensive…
…ripped coat.
Harriet, I promised your parents
you'd take care of this one.
It's not a rip, it's a story.
A story?
A story where I make the world safe for
Pinky and the Boy with the Purple Socks
and anybody who's sick of being picked on
by Marion Hawthorne.
It's just something I gotta do.
Just tell me how it ends.
We will. Right, coat?
Happy Tuesday, Gregory School.
It's time for the morning announcements.
The weather today is gonna stay chilly,
with a chance of more snow flurries
this afternoon.
The hot lunch today is, um...
Wait, where'd that go?
Ah, yes. Sloppy joes.
The inspirational quote for today comes
from A. A. Milne's Christopher Robin…
Who says, "You're braver than you believe",
stronger than you seem
"and smarter than you... uh, you think."
You're not allowed to be in here.
It's an emergency.
Hello, Gregory School.
This is Harriet M. Welsch
with a special announcement
for the sixth grade.
Your vote tomorrow isn't just about
who gets to wear the coat, me or Marion.
It's also about freedom.
Freedom from Marion
always treating us like jerks.
But together, we've got a chance
to show her we deserve respect.
Freedom!
This peacoat is me. But it's you too.
We're all in this together,
and we're doing it for one thing:
Freedom.
Harriet, that was so great when you said...
Shh!
I will not be quiet!
Okay, I'll be quiet. Sorry.
- You've set me free.
- What?
I'm not afraid anymore.
I'll say it out loud.
Marion is such a pain!
Shh!
Because she likes my brother, Phillip.
He's in the seventh grade at St. Albans.
She's always bugging me about him.
"Does he have a girlfriend? And when's
his birthday? Can I come over?"
She's just using me.
Freedom!
Freedom!
This was it. It was happening.
Hi, Harriet. Hi, Carrie.
I was just counting up the votes.
I think we have a real chance tomorrow.
Check it out.
Amazing.
Janie, you gotta see this.
Why? It's over.
No, we're tied. Look.
I just got this.
Guess who's having a big
pre-coat vote party after school
for the whole sixth grade?
She's trying to bribe everybody.
It won't work.
It's a "make your own banana split" party.
Uh, my voters will know it's a bribe.
With a bottomless toppings bar.
Marion is gonna ask me
to invite my brother. I just know it.
And I will say,
"Nay. Harriet has set me free."
No. Carrie, you have to go.
And you have to invite Phillip.
I'm gonna make him my secret weapon.
He'll be there.
Hello, children.
Hello, Mrs. Hawthorne.
Come in, come in. Let me take your coats.
Take them where?
Harriet M. Welsch.
I didn't expect to see you here.
Sure can't say no
to a bottomless toppings bar.
No, you cannot.
Hi, Harriet.
Oh, my gosh. He's here.
Hi, Phillip.
Nice job getting him here.
I said he could have my banana split.
I'm going in.
Let me show you the ice cream bar.
Jackpot.
You want proof, Bill Kilroy?
I'll give you proof.
Carrie told me you were a music fan,
so I wanted to show you my new jukebox.
I got it for winning
the all-city talent show.
You win a lot of things.
Swimming, archery, gymnastics.
Spelling?
I won with the word "onomatopoeia."
I can spell that. O-N-O-M-A-T-P...
No, I... Wait, E-I...
In that moment,
the truth hit me right in the spleen.
I was never going to beat Marion
at anything ever,
until the end of time.
Some people are born to be perfect.
Other people are born to be scaredy-cats,
hiding in the back of a closet,
trying to take a picture
of a bunch of dumb coats.
Huh?
It was a love letter
from Marion to Phillip.
I realized I must've taken Marion's coat
when I left the party.
It was an honest mistake,
but one that could change
the course of history.
I just had to arrange a secret rendezvous.
Hey.
Sorry. They were both in a big pile.
I just grabbed yours by mistake.
Looking for this?
Give it back.
I could do that.
Or I could show it to, I don't know,
Phillip?
No, don't, please.
I'll do whatever you want.
I'll... I'll... I'll drop out
of the coat vote. You win.
After that dirty trick you pulled
with the banana split party,
I should publish it in the school paper.
But I'm not you.
Good luck with the coat vote today.
Really? But I... I thought...
I wanna win for real.
In the end,
the coat vote wasn't even close.
A bottomless toppings bar
beats freedom every time.
But still, there were
a few small victories.
Freedom!
Freedom.
Hey, wait up.
What?
I... I... I just wanna say,
I'm sorry for saying you were a copier.
There's no one like you,
Harriet M. Welsch,
and there probably never will be.
Thanks.
And I just wanna say that
somebody has to beat you someday,
and I hope it's me.
Keep hoping.
You know, I was thinking,
there's no reason
we both can't wear the coat.
I don't think
Smithers of London would mind.
Really?
For a second, I thought maybe
a new kind of era might be starting.
The "Harriet and Marion not becoming
friends or anything",
"but still weirdly getting along" era.
But when I got to school the next day,
it was almost a relief to see that
Marion was still Marion.
Where is your peacoat?
It wasn't me. Not like this coat.
- It's from Paris.
- Très chic, non?
And your coat is
totally you. I see that now.
It's ripped, it's dirty,
you've lost a button.
It's a total mess.
My coat wasn't a total mess.
It was a story.
And I couldn't wait to see the new places
it would take me
and the new things
I would get to write about.