Page 25 of Grace & Henry's Holiday Movie Marathon
“I didn’t scream,” I say.
“Youdefinitelyscreamed,” says Ian.
“It wasn’t, like, ascreamscream,” I say. “I shouted. I was startled.”
Harry Styles comes out from under the kitchen table, tail wagging just as Grace’s daughter bursts into the room, wide-eyed in orange pajamas. “Why is there screaming?” she asks. “Who are you?”
“Hi,” I say.
“Are you a robber?”
“No, honey,” says Grace. “It’s just Henry again. Remember Henry? From last week? He came over to watch a movie.”
“You guys watched a movie?”
Ian looks at me. “We didn’t have candy, though.”
Grace smoothes out the girl’s bedhead. “Everything’s fine. Henry saw a mouse. He got scared and dropped these bowls and…well, he screamed a little.”
“More likea lot,” says Ian.
“You saw a mouse?” asks Bella.
“Mice,” I say, because that seems important. “There were three of them.”
“Oh wow,” says Bella. “Which ones?”
“What?”
“Were they the kinda-gray ones or the brown ones?” asks Ian.
“I saw a black one once,” says Bella. “But maybe not. It was really dark.”
Now Grace is the one who looks embarrassed. “We’ve sort of been cohabitating with them,” she says. “We usually don’t see more than one at a time, though.”
Bella points at the corkboard. “Ian drew them. See?”
I didn’t notice before. Along with the house, the raven, and the bicycle, Ian has tacked up drawings of a baseball player, an umbrella on a beach, and three mice standing on their hind legs.
“You like to draw, huh?” I ask.
Ian looks at his board. “Yeah.”
“You’re really good.”
I mean this as a factual statement, the way I give shout-outs to the young designers at work. Ian, though, beams with pride.
“Say thank you, Ian,” says Grace.
“Thanks.”
“Wait,” says Grace, scrutinizing my face. “Have you been crying?”
“What? No. Well, yeah, but not beca—”
“Um, mommy,” says Bella. “I think Harry Styles got one again.”
Grace squints at the dog. “Oh man.”
