The Adventures of Henry and Jake

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"Ha-ank! Wake up!"

Henry Grimm rolled over in bed, pulling the covers tighter around his body and hating his brother. Jake was the only guy Henry knew over the age of ten that still got up at six every Saturday morning without anyone making him, and the only guy he knew who had ever done it not to watch the cartoons that came on that early, but just because he wanted to.

Henry, for his part, liked his sleep. he especially liked it on cold November mornings after a long night doing homework (and wanting to do other things but not having the courage to suggest them) with Goldilocks, mornings when he could practically see his breath because- why was the window open?

He shot up in bed, threw the covers off himself, jumped to the window, and slammed it shut, spinning around after he did so to glare at Jake, who was leaning on Henry's bedpost.

"Why did you open my window?" he hissed at his brother, who was giving him that 'what are you looking at me for, I'm the baby of the family and you love me!' smile.

"I had to get in some way," Jake said, as if this was the most obvious thing in the world.

The obvious next question, why Jake hadn't used the door, was erased from Henry's mind when he remembered that he'd wedged a chair under the handle to prevent people from barging in on him and destroying his Saturday.

Henry sat down on his bed with a sigh and glared at his brother, shivering even in the sweatpants he'd slept in.

"So, now that you're up..." Jake suggested tentatively.

Henry let out another sigh and said, "What is it this time?"

"Well, I kind of sort of maybe accidentally let out Grendel..." Jake muttered, looking at the ceiling and tapping some of Henry's model planes with one of his fingers.

It took a few seconds for that to sink in, and then Henry stared at his brother, bug-eyed. "You what?"

"It wasn't my fault!" Jake defended himself, but he was still looking at the plane, which told Henry his brother was lying, even if he hadn't already been sure. "I-"

"Save it," Henry said with a sigh, pushing himself off the bed. "I don't care how, I don't care why. Let's just get him away so I can go back to sleep, okay?"

Jake let out a relieved sigh and said, "Thank you so much, Hank."

Henry didn't say anything.

***

"It's a beautiful morning," Jake said cheerfully.

It wasn't, really. It was frigid, with frost carpeting everything in a thick glistening fuzz, clouds hanging low in the sky like cotton balls pressed against glass, with more cloud than clear sky overhead, though the sun did shine through, glaring into Henry's eyes as they ran east. The few leaves left on the trees rattled forlornly in the stiff breeze, hanging onto their branches desperately. Henry could see his breath, and he could almost feel the tiny ice particles slice into his face as he ran straight into them.

He didn't answer his brother, though. His throat burned too much from inhaling the sub-zero air at a run. Well, maybe it wasn't sub-zero. But it was freaking cold.

They were following Grendel's meandering trail of wreckage (thankfully, there was no carnage yet. It was probably too cold for anything sane to be up this early.) through the woods, running both so that they wouldn't freeze and so that they could catch up to Grendel. The monster wouldn't be hurrying, but would still be moving fast simply because he was so huge, and he had a head start, to boot. Jake was hoping that they'd be able to get him home before their parents woke up, so he wouldn't get in too much trouble.

Henry had told his brother in no uncertain terms that he wouldn't be taking any credit for Jake's goof-up, that it was enough that he was helping, but he still ran. His bed was waiting for him.

He could hear Grendel now, in the distance, growling and snuffling and whimpering and crashing into things. He guessed it was a good thing the monster was so loud. It would give them the benefit of surprise. And come to that, it was a good thing the breeze was blowing from the north, even if it meant it was colder. Grendel couldn't smell them, either.

When they came in sight of the beast, they stopped running and switched to a walk, letting their muscles relax, getting their breath back, and planning their mode of attack.

"So what's the game plan?" Jake asked quietly.

Henry waited until he could breathe without his throat stinging him to answer, feeling that it would do his impetuous brother good to worry that he didn't have a plan for a while. Finally, though, he said, "You got anything good on you?"

"Fairy godmother wand," Jake said. "Not a good one, though. No transformations, just clothes."

That explained the bits of pink lace clinging to Grendel's waist.

"Chains?" Henry asked. "If he can't move, we can knock him out and drag him home."

"I guess," Jake said, and his tone turned whiny as he said, "But he'll be so heavy if we do that."

Henry shrugged and said, "Well, I haven't got a weapon, and Dad'll kill us if any of us die. So we get to drag him back."

Jake sighed and said, "Fine," then trotted up to Grendel and flicked his wand. Instantly, the grotesque thing was encased in chains.

Henry followed his brother more slowly, rubbing his arms, as Grendel let out a roar. Henry was wondering why Jake didn't have anything more potent on him. Normally the kid was loaded with magic stuff, as much as Mom would let him have. Maybe Mom had cut him off. That would explain why Jake was in the Hall of Wonders at five in the morning. It was getting kind of ridiculous. The kid was practically an addict. Didn't explain why he'd opened the door to Grendel's room, though.

"So how are we going to get him back home?" Jake asked. "I'm not strong enough to carry him, and I know you're not. Are we going to shove him the whole way?"

Yes. Yes they were.

After about half an hour of traded dragging and shoving a loudly complaining and then silent and gagged Grendel, they'd made it back home, and Henry was no longer cold, but he was badly in need of a shower before his sweat froze onto his body. They were just about to open the door and start pulling Grendel upstairs when they saw their parents standing on the front porch, both in the same position: arms crossed, feet tapping, matching no-nonsense glares on their faces.

Henry wasted no time dropping his side of Grendel, pointing to his brother and saying, "He did it."

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