Harriet the Spy (2021–…): Season 1, Episode 3 - Episode #1.3 - full transcript
Okay. Are you ready?
Repeat after me. I, Janie Gibbs…
I, Janie Gibbs…
…promise to never, ever, ever
attend dancing school.
…promise to never, ever, ever
attend dancing school.
I, Harriet…
I got this. I wrote it.
I, Harriet M. Welsch, promise to
never, ever, ever attend dancing school.
You may now commence the handshake.
- Yeah.
- Whoo-hoo!
I hereby pronounce this oath sacred.
There will be no attending of
dancing school.
Never, ever, ever!
Tag, you're it!
Years ago, I came up with that oath
to keep me and Janie from ever becoming
the "little ladies"
our mothers wanted us to be.
Since then, our mothers have tried
every tactic in the book to make us crack.
The lecture.
You're growing up,
and part of that beautiful flowering is
learning how to dance.
The guilt trip.
Don't worry about me.
I'll be fine being the only mother
with a daughter who's a clump
on the dance floor.
- The bribe.
- Who wants a puppy?
The double team.
This is how it's always been done.
Young ladies go to dancing school.
Never!
For years,
that oath kept us fiercely united.
It kept us free from itchy tights
and painful kitten heels,
but this year it almost tore us apart.
It all began as I bit into my
2022nd consecutive
tomato with mayonnaise sandwich.
Whoa! Oh, my, darling.
Whee! This is so much fun.
Oh, Harriet. I hope we aren't causing
too much of a ruckus.
Your father and I are just
enjoying a little waltz.
What a gas.
- Care to join us?
- It's very easy to learn. You just...
Uh-uh. I know where this is going.
And for the millionth time,
I swore an oath
to never attend dancing school.
It's not just dancing, you know.
There's manners and posture.
I'm concerned about
the way you move, Harriet.
Fast, that's the way I move. Fast.
- And look at how you're dressed.
- So?
People will think
I'm raising a ragamuffin.
Sweetie, it really is fun.
Or, at the very least,
nothing to make a fuss about.
There's no getting around it this year.
Oh.
They always thought they were so cute.
Ha!
Huh... Oh.
Dancing school?
Please remind me once again
why it's the end of the world.
Because I hate the little dresses
and tights and shoes.
They make me feel undignified.
And Saturday's prime spying time,
and a spy would never
go to dancing school.
Oh, but they would.
Harriet, why are you a spy?
To be a writer.
Well, to be a writer you need to
see and know everything,
including how to dance.
I'd rather lick the floor.
I feel so elegant. Whoo!
Look, you spend so much time and energy
fighting your mother on dancing school.
Wouldn't it be easier to simply go?
Who knows? If it's not a good fit,
you may not even have to go back.
Wait, so you want to go to dancing school?
Just one lesson.
Hear me out.
We'll go to class, you'll come up with
some genius plan to disrupt it.
You are a mad scientist.
I'm a scientist scientist.
Sure. The point is we'll get kicked out,
and the whole thing will be
such a flaming disaster
that our moms will give up
on dancing school forever.
So you'd like to add an unstable element,
say vinegar,
to a stable solution of, say baking soda.
Exactly.
Can't do it.
What? Why?
We swore an oath to never, ever, ever
attend dancing school.
It's just one lesson.
You break an oath, you pay the price.
Look, if oaths weren't meant to be broken,
then why were counter-oaths invented?
One, two, three. One, two, three.
Our parents are in cahoots.
Mine just tried this.
One, two, three.
Oh, Harriet, so glad you're here.
Mr. Gibbs and I were just having a waltz.
Would you girls care to join us?
Come on, Janie. It's high time
you learned a few graces.
One, two, three. One, two, three.
One, two, three. One, two, three.
One, two, three.
All right, all right, enough.
I'll go to dancing school.
It itches. Ow! Why does it itch?
This thing is made out of ants.
I feel like a poodle.
This is the worst day of my life.
It'll all be over soon.
You ready for the counter-oath?
School dancing attend ever, ever,
never to promise, Welsch M. Harriet, I.
School dancing attend ever, ever,
never to promise, Gibbs Janie, I.
Whoa. Our first counter-oath.
I feel dizzy.
Ow, it's like having hooves.
Who can walk in these things?
Oh, right.
Who said you could look at me?
Silence, children!
I am Mr. Dubois, your dance instructor.
What's your name?
Harriet M. Welsch.
I do love a project.
Relax your shoulders.
Your hand placement is too low.
Feet shoulder width apart.
Excellent, Miss Hawthorne.
This is posture, and it speaks volumes.
Why, by looking at a person's posture,
I can tell you many things.
Their confidence, class, kindness, spirit…
It'd be quicker to list the things
good posture can't say about a person.
Miss Welsch, straighten up.
You're not the Hunchback of Notre Dame.
I can't help it. Pinky's too short.
I have to bend over.
Very good, Miss Gibbs.
What was she doing? Why was she smiling?
That's when I realized
it must be part of her plan.
Of course. Become the teacher's pet,
earn his trust,
then blow it up from the inside.
It was only a matter of time.
One, two, three. One, two, three.
One, two, three.
Problem was,
Janie's plan was taking way too long.
Janie.
Ow! Harriet!
- What?
- You're stepping on my toes.
Miss Welsch.
My back is straight.
You're ahead of the beat.
Follow Mr. Whitehead's lead.
It's the gloves' fault.
They're itching my hands
and it's trickling down to my feet.
Stop!
You must not remove your gloves.
But what about the itch?
They are not for your comfort,
Miss Welsch.
They're to protect you from your partner's
grubby, sweaty, germ-infected hands.
Purple Socks, I'm cutting in.
I can't take another minute of this.
What's the plan?
I don't know how to explain this.
- Then the plan's too complicated.
- I kinda like dancing.
No, you don't.
Yeah, I do.
- But you always hated it.
- Because I never tried it.
Miss Welsch,
return to your partner at once.
- Come on, Pinky.
- But I'm supposed to lead.
Well, then lead. That way.
Psst. Janie. You were right
about the oath. Breaking it was...
Circle back, circle back!
…a big mistake. I want to restore it.
Maybe we can invent a counter...
Watch where you are going.
But you told me not to look at you.
A counter-counter-oath.
Let's do a counter-counter-oath.
No. I'm happy we broke the oath.
I never would have tried dancing
otherwise.
But... But... Come here, you.
Whoa!
Miss Welsch!
You are leading, not following
like young ladies are supposed to.
What? Only boys can lead? Why?
This is how it is always done
because boys are bigger and stronger.
But she's like twice as big as me.
You'll get bigger.
You haven't met my dad.
It's not fair. Girls can lead too.
Right, Janie?
Okay, so
I couldn't count on Janie at the moment.
But when she saw what I was about to do,
well, she'd have my back.
Come on, everybody, cut loose.
There are no rules.
Girls can lead,
and you don't need a partner,
and you don't need blisters!
Cut this nonsense immediately.
This isn't nonsense, Mr. Dubois.
This is a revolution!
Throw away the shackles of tradition.
Express yourselves.
Beth Ellen, you know you want to.
Pinky?
That is not where your hand goes,
Mr. Whitehead. Wash it immediately.
Janie?
Sport, I need your help.
Hey, I'm in the middle of practice.
But I need the keeper of the oaths.
Oh.
One sec.
Coach, I gotta use the restroom.
Hey, come on. The oath book's
at the bottom of my locker.
It's not here. You said it was here.
Secret compartment. Nice.
Okay, Sport, listen up.
I did a counter-oath
and it was a big mistake.
- And now I have to find...
- Sport, get back here.
I need to get back to practice.
Hey, you find anything helpful?
No.
Who was your witness
when you did the counter-oath?
Counter-oaths don't need witnesses.
Do they?
Yes, they do.
Page 27, article four, section B.
Sport, defense!
Ah.
Janie.
Sport, what are you doing here?
We gotta talk.
"Like any other oath,
a counter-oath must have a witness.
Without one, it's invalid. Therefore... ".
Our counter-oath was invalid.
Yep. No dancing school. Never, ever, ever.
- But we already started.
- You need to find a way out.
I say we head back in there, go berserko
and get kicked out for good.
That way the oath is
never in danger again.
Or we could redo the counter-oath,
right here, with Sport as our witness.
No, if we do that we'd be defending a rule
that says girls can't lead.
Is this really what you want?
All right. An oath is an oath.
Miss Welsch, I appreciate
the attitude adjustment.
Mm-hmm.
So what's the plan?
Ask Pinky to ask you to dance.
Hmm.
Pinky, ask me to dance.
- Um, okay. Wait, is this a trap?
- Pinky!
May I have this dance?
My pleasure.
She's surrendered to the joys of dance.
They always do.
What now?
Put those back on!
The germs.
The coarseness!
The horror!
I knew this was a trap.
You two. Go.
Did you see his face?
Hey, wanna get egg creams?
I don't start my spy route till 4:00.
- Is dance really so terrible?
- Huh?
Or is it only terrible because
you're bad at it and I'm good?
It's terrible for a million reasons,
but mostly because
girls have to follow boys.
How can you accept that?
Because I'm used to it.
You always lead, and I always follow.
And I'm sick of it.
I don't always lead.
Yes, you do.
Oh. Said the girl who stormed off
leaving her best friend behind.
To take my mind off the Janie situation,
I went to go spy on Mr. Withers
and his 26 cats.
Unfortunately, my mind had other ideas.
Do you know
why you're all my best friends?
Why?
Because you always listen to me,
are always loyal
and never in a million years
go to dance class.
I don't want to be loyal. You always lead.
I wanna dance.
Why do we always
have to do things your way?
Yeah.
I don't always lead. Do I?
I'd happily follow Janie.
I'd follow her anywhere.
Well, not off a cliff.
Dance is like a cliff
I won't follow Janie off of.
I mean, dance is like a cliff off of which
I won't follow Janie.
Which is better English but sounds weird.
Hello, Harriet.
May I speak to Janie?
I don't think she wants to speak to you.
And after what you did in dancing class,
I don't blame her.
Okay.
Mrs. Gibbs was not going to
keep me and Janie apart.
Our friendship was at stake here.
We needed to talk things out.
I'd explain myself,
tell her that leading was tough,
but she could do it.
Wow. She was really good.
And happy in a way I'd never seen before.
I knew what I had to do,
and I did not like it one bit.
One, two, three. One, two, three.
One, two...
- Miss Welsch? I thought I told you...
- Everything that happened was my idea.
Janie didn't want to sabotage your class.
I made her do it.
What on earth are you wearing?
- You have to readmit her.
- No.
Please. She loves dance
and she's good at it.
I said no.
I'll do anything.
Anything?
If you ever wanna make a deal,
never agree to the word "anything."
Tsk, tsk, tsk. It's wrinkled. Start over.
The good news is, the next day,
Mr. Dubois let Janie back in the class.
Hey.
Hey.
So it was pretty good how I got Mr. Dubois
to let you back in, huh?
What I meant to say was, uh,
about earlier,
I'm sorry.
Can we cut the chitchat?
My hands are getting
a little germy over here.
I thought that saying sorry
was supposed to make everything better.
But maybe that wasn't always true.
When it finally came time
for the dance recital,
I politely sat in the audience and,
to mingle a line from good old Mr. Dubois,
surrendered to the joy of
watching Janie dance.
I ironed the gloves.
What's the matter?
I wish you were out there.
Dancing school.
The only good thing about it
was that Marion wasn't the best.
Janie was.
Miss Welsch, may I have this dance?
Uh, what?
Janie, what are you doing?
Asking Harriet to dance.
I can't. I'm terrible.
Just follow my lead for once.
It would be my pleasure.
No! Miss Welsch, Miss Gibbs. Stop this!
Mrs. Welsch, Mrs. Gibbs!
Well, at least they're dancing.
That's true.
Ow! Harriet, you're stepping on my toes.
I told you I'm bad at this.
Hey, I've been thinking,
and I wanna make another oath.
To not make any more oaths?
You read my mind.
Miss Hansen! What are you doing?
Mr. Whitehead!
Never mind. Go ahead, dance.
Just don't take off your gloves.
Ole Golly was right.
You have to know everything
if you're going to be a writer.
And even though I never really
learned how to dance,
I learned something better,
that a best friend has to know
when to lead and when to follow.
Repeat after me. I, Janie Gibbs…
I, Janie Gibbs…
…promise to never, ever, ever
attend dancing school.
…promise to never, ever, ever
attend dancing school.
I, Harriet…
I got this. I wrote it.
I, Harriet M. Welsch, promise to
never, ever, ever attend dancing school.
You may now commence the handshake.
- Yeah.
- Whoo-hoo!
I hereby pronounce this oath sacred.
There will be no attending of
dancing school.
Never, ever, ever!
Tag, you're it!
Years ago, I came up with that oath
to keep me and Janie from ever becoming
the "little ladies"
our mothers wanted us to be.
Since then, our mothers have tried
every tactic in the book to make us crack.
The lecture.
You're growing up,
and part of that beautiful flowering is
learning how to dance.
The guilt trip.
Don't worry about me.
I'll be fine being the only mother
with a daughter who's a clump
on the dance floor.
- The bribe.
- Who wants a puppy?
The double team.
This is how it's always been done.
Young ladies go to dancing school.
Never!
For years,
that oath kept us fiercely united.
It kept us free from itchy tights
and painful kitten heels,
but this year it almost tore us apart.
It all began as I bit into my
2022nd consecutive
tomato with mayonnaise sandwich.
Whoa! Oh, my, darling.
Whee! This is so much fun.
Oh, Harriet. I hope we aren't causing
too much of a ruckus.
Your father and I are just
enjoying a little waltz.
What a gas.
- Care to join us?
- It's very easy to learn. You just...
Uh-uh. I know where this is going.
And for the millionth time,
I swore an oath
to never attend dancing school.
It's not just dancing, you know.
There's manners and posture.
I'm concerned about
the way you move, Harriet.
Fast, that's the way I move. Fast.
- And look at how you're dressed.
- So?
People will think
I'm raising a ragamuffin.
Sweetie, it really is fun.
Or, at the very least,
nothing to make a fuss about.
There's no getting around it this year.
Oh.
They always thought they were so cute.
Ha!
Huh... Oh.
Dancing school?
Please remind me once again
why it's the end of the world.
Because I hate the little dresses
and tights and shoes.
They make me feel undignified.
And Saturday's prime spying time,
and a spy would never
go to dancing school.
Oh, but they would.
Harriet, why are you a spy?
To be a writer.
Well, to be a writer you need to
see and know everything,
including how to dance.
I'd rather lick the floor.
I feel so elegant. Whoo!
Look, you spend so much time and energy
fighting your mother on dancing school.
Wouldn't it be easier to simply go?
Who knows? If it's not a good fit,
you may not even have to go back.
Wait, so you want to go to dancing school?
Just one lesson.
Hear me out.
We'll go to class, you'll come up with
some genius plan to disrupt it.
You are a mad scientist.
I'm a scientist scientist.
Sure. The point is we'll get kicked out,
and the whole thing will be
such a flaming disaster
that our moms will give up
on dancing school forever.
So you'd like to add an unstable element,
say vinegar,
to a stable solution of, say baking soda.
Exactly.
Can't do it.
What? Why?
We swore an oath to never, ever, ever
attend dancing school.
It's just one lesson.
You break an oath, you pay the price.
Look, if oaths weren't meant to be broken,
then why were counter-oaths invented?
One, two, three. One, two, three.
Our parents are in cahoots.
Mine just tried this.
One, two, three.
Oh, Harriet, so glad you're here.
Mr. Gibbs and I were just having a waltz.
Would you girls care to join us?
Come on, Janie. It's high time
you learned a few graces.
One, two, three. One, two, three.
One, two, three. One, two, three.
One, two, three.
All right, all right, enough.
I'll go to dancing school.
It itches. Ow! Why does it itch?
This thing is made out of ants.
I feel like a poodle.
This is the worst day of my life.
It'll all be over soon.
You ready for the counter-oath?
School dancing attend ever, ever,
never to promise, Welsch M. Harriet, I.
School dancing attend ever, ever,
never to promise, Gibbs Janie, I.
Whoa. Our first counter-oath.
I feel dizzy.
Ow, it's like having hooves.
Who can walk in these things?
Oh, right.
Who said you could look at me?
Silence, children!
I am Mr. Dubois, your dance instructor.
What's your name?
Harriet M. Welsch.
I do love a project.
Relax your shoulders.
Your hand placement is too low.
Feet shoulder width apart.
Excellent, Miss Hawthorne.
This is posture, and it speaks volumes.
Why, by looking at a person's posture,
I can tell you many things.
Their confidence, class, kindness, spirit…
It'd be quicker to list the things
good posture can't say about a person.
Miss Welsch, straighten up.
You're not the Hunchback of Notre Dame.
I can't help it. Pinky's too short.
I have to bend over.
Very good, Miss Gibbs.
What was she doing? Why was she smiling?
That's when I realized
it must be part of her plan.
Of course. Become the teacher's pet,
earn his trust,
then blow it up from the inside.
It was only a matter of time.
One, two, three. One, two, three.
One, two, three.
Problem was,
Janie's plan was taking way too long.
Janie.
Ow! Harriet!
- What?
- You're stepping on my toes.
Miss Welsch.
My back is straight.
You're ahead of the beat.
Follow Mr. Whitehead's lead.
It's the gloves' fault.
They're itching my hands
and it's trickling down to my feet.
Stop!
You must not remove your gloves.
But what about the itch?
They are not for your comfort,
Miss Welsch.
They're to protect you from your partner's
grubby, sweaty, germ-infected hands.
Purple Socks, I'm cutting in.
I can't take another minute of this.
What's the plan?
I don't know how to explain this.
- Then the plan's too complicated.
- I kinda like dancing.
No, you don't.
Yeah, I do.
- But you always hated it.
- Because I never tried it.
Miss Welsch,
return to your partner at once.
- Come on, Pinky.
- But I'm supposed to lead.
Well, then lead. That way.
Psst. Janie. You were right
about the oath. Breaking it was...
Circle back, circle back!
…a big mistake. I want to restore it.
Maybe we can invent a counter...
Watch where you are going.
But you told me not to look at you.
A counter-counter-oath.
Let's do a counter-counter-oath.
No. I'm happy we broke the oath.
I never would have tried dancing
otherwise.
But... But... Come here, you.
Whoa!
Miss Welsch!
You are leading, not following
like young ladies are supposed to.
What? Only boys can lead? Why?
This is how it is always done
because boys are bigger and stronger.
But she's like twice as big as me.
You'll get bigger.
You haven't met my dad.
It's not fair. Girls can lead too.
Right, Janie?
Okay, so
I couldn't count on Janie at the moment.
But when she saw what I was about to do,
well, she'd have my back.
Come on, everybody, cut loose.
There are no rules.
Girls can lead,
and you don't need a partner,
and you don't need blisters!
Cut this nonsense immediately.
This isn't nonsense, Mr. Dubois.
This is a revolution!
Throw away the shackles of tradition.
Express yourselves.
Beth Ellen, you know you want to.
Pinky?
That is not where your hand goes,
Mr. Whitehead. Wash it immediately.
Janie?
Sport, I need your help.
Hey, I'm in the middle of practice.
But I need the keeper of the oaths.
Oh.
One sec.
Coach, I gotta use the restroom.
Hey, come on. The oath book's
at the bottom of my locker.
It's not here. You said it was here.
Secret compartment. Nice.
Okay, Sport, listen up.
I did a counter-oath
and it was a big mistake.
- And now I have to find...
- Sport, get back here.
I need to get back to practice.
Hey, you find anything helpful?
No.
Who was your witness
when you did the counter-oath?
Counter-oaths don't need witnesses.
Do they?
Yes, they do.
Page 27, article four, section B.
Sport, defense!
Ah.
Janie.
Sport, what are you doing here?
We gotta talk.
"Like any other oath,
a counter-oath must have a witness.
Without one, it's invalid. Therefore... ".
Our counter-oath was invalid.
Yep. No dancing school. Never, ever, ever.
- But we already started.
- You need to find a way out.
I say we head back in there, go berserko
and get kicked out for good.
That way the oath is
never in danger again.
Or we could redo the counter-oath,
right here, with Sport as our witness.
No, if we do that we'd be defending a rule
that says girls can't lead.
Is this really what you want?
All right. An oath is an oath.
Miss Welsch, I appreciate
the attitude adjustment.
Mm-hmm.
So what's the plan?
Ask Pinky to ask you to dance.
Hmm.
Pinky, ask me to dance.
- Um, okay. Wait, is this a trap?
- Pinky!
May I have this dance?
My pleasure.
She's surrendered to the joys of dance.
They always do.
What now?
Put those back on!
The germs.
The coarseness!
The horror!
I knew this was a trap.
You two. Go.
Did you see his face?
Hey, wanna get egg creams?
I don't start my spy route till 4:00.
- Is dance really so terrible?
- Huh?
Or is it only terrible because
you're bad at it and I'm good?
It's terrible for a million reasons,
but mostly because
girls have to follow boys.
How can you accept that?
Because I'm used to it.
You always lead, and I always follow.
And I'm sick of it.
I don't always lead.
Yes, you do.
Oh. Said the girl who stormed off
leaving her best friend behind.
To take my mind off the Janie situation,
I went to go spy on Mr. Withers
and his 26 cats.
Unfortunately, my mind had other ideas.
Do you know
why you're all my best friends?
Why?
Because you always listen to me,
are always loyal
and never in a million years
go to dance class.
I don't want to be loyal. You always lead.
I wanna dance.
Why do we always
have to do things your way?
Yeah.
I don't always lead. Do I?
I'd happily follow Janie.
I'd follow her anywhere.
Well, not off a cliff.
Dance is like a cliff
I won't follow Janie off of.
I mean, dance is like a cliff off of which
I won't follow Janie.
Which is better English but sounds weird.
Hello, Harriet.
May I speak to Janie?
I don't think she wants to speak to you.
And after what you did in dancing class,
I don't blame her.
Okay.
Mrs. Gibbs was not going to
keep me and Janie apart.
Our friendship was at stake here.
We needed to talk things out.
I'd explain myself,
tell her that leading was tough,
but she could do it.
Wow. She was really good.
And happy in a way I'd never seen before.
I knew what I had to do,
and I did not like it one bit.
One, two, three. One, two, three.
One, two...
- Miss Welsch? I thought I told you...
- Everything that happened was my idea.
Janie didn't want to sabotage your class.
I made her do it.
What on earth are you wearing?
- You have to readmit her.
- No.
Please. She loves dance
and she's good at it.
I said no.
I'll do anything.
Anything?
If you ever wanna make a deal,
never agree to the word "anything."
Tsk, tsk, tsk. It's wrinkled. Start over.
The good news is, the next day,
Mr. Dubois let Janie back in the class.
Hey.
Hey.
So it was pretty good how I got Mr. Dubois
to let you back in, huh?
What I meant to say was, uh,
about earlier,
I'm sorry.
Can we cut the chitchat?
My hands are getting
a little germy over here.
I thought that saying sorry
was supposed to make everything better.
But maybe that wasn't always true.
When it finally came time
for the dance recital,
I politely sat in the audience and,
to mingle a line from good old Mr. Dubois,
surrendered to the joy of
watching Janie dance.
I ironed the gloves.
What's the matter?
I wish you were out there.
Dancing school.
The only good thing about it
was that Marion wasn't the best.
Janie was.
Miss Welsch, may I have this dance?
Uh, what?
Janie, what are you doing?
Asking Harriet to dance.
I can't. I'm terrible.
Just follow my lead for once.
It would be my pleasure.
No! Miss Welsch, Miss Gibbs. Stop this!
Mrs. Welsch, Mrs. Gibbs!
Well, at least they're dancing.
That's true.
Ow! Harriet, you're stepping on my toes.
I told you I'm bad at this.
Hey, I've been thinking,
and I wanna make another oath.
To not make any more oaths?
You read my mind.
Miss Hansen! What are you doing?
Mr. Whitehead!
Never mind. Go ahead, dance.
Just don't take off your gloves.
Ole Golly was right.
You have to know everything
if you're going to be a writer.
And even though I never really
learned how to dance,
I learned something better,
that a best friend has to know
when to lead and when to follow.