I can't believe it.
You and Dad get paid to write about plants, and you hate dirt.
Coraline, I don't have time for you right now,
and you still have unpacking to do. Lots of unpacking.
That sounds exciting!
Oh. Some kid left this on the front porch.
Hey, Jonesy. Look what I found in Gramma's trunk.
Look familiar? Wybie.
Huh.
A little me? That's weird.
What's his name, anyway?
Wybie. And I'm way too old for dolls.
Hey, Dad. How's the writing going?
Dad!
Hello, Coraline and Coraline doll.
Do you know where the garden tools are?
It's... It's pouring out there, isn't it?
-It's just raining. -What'd the boss say?
"Don't even think about going out, Coraline Jones!"
Then you won't need the tools.
You know, this house is 150 years old.
-So? -So explore it.
Go out and count all the doors and windows and write that down on...
List everything that's blue. Just let me work.
Ew!
No. No, no, no. No.
One boring blue boy in a painfully boring painting.
Four incredibly boring windows
and no more doors.
All right, little me. Where are you hiding?
Huh?
Hey, Mom. Where does this door go?
I'm really, really busy.
I think it's locked.
Please!
Will you stop pestering me if I do this for you?
Fine.
Bricks? I don't get it.
They must've closed this off when they pided up the house.
You're kidding. And why is the door so small?