Horrid Henry and the Soccer Fiend
Page 3
Then something wonderful in the toy department next door caught his eye.
Whooa! A whole row of the new megalotronic animobotic robots with 213 programmable actions. Horrid Henry dumped the clothes and ran over to have a look. Oooh, the new Intergalactic Samurai Gorillas that launched real stinkbombs! And the latest Waterblasters! And deluxe Dungeon Drink kits with a celebrity chef recipe book! To say nothing of the Mega-Whirl Goo Shooter that sprayed fluorescent goo for fifty yards in every direction. Wow!
Mom staggered into the dressing room with more clothes. “Henry?” said Mom.
No reply.
“HENRY!” said Mom.
Still no reply.
Mom yanked open a dressing room door.
“Hen—”
“Excuse me!” yelped a bald man, standing in his underpants.
“Sorry,” said Mom, blushing bright pink. She dashed out of the changing room and scanned the shop floor.
Henry was gone.
Mom searched up the aisles.
No Henry.
Mom searched down the aisles.
Still no Henry.
Then Mom saw a tuft of hair sticking up behind the neon sign for Ballistic Bazooka Boomerangs. She marched over and hauled Henry away.
“I was just looking,” protested Henry.
Henry tried on one pair of pants after another.
“No, no, no, no, no, no, no,” said Henry, kicking off the final pair. “I hate all of them.”
“All right,” said Mom, grimly. “We’ll look somewhere else.”
Mom and Henry went to Top Trousers. They went to Cool Clothes. They went to Stomp in the Swamp. Nothing had been right.
“Too tight,”
moaned Henry.
“Too itchy!”
“Too big!”
“Too small!”
“Too ugly!”
“Too red!”
“Too uncomfortable!”
“We’re going to Tip-Top Togs,” said
Mom wearily. “The first thing that fits, we’re buying.”
Mom staggered into the children’s department and grabbed a pair of pink and green plaid pants in Henry’s size.
“Try these on,” she ordered. “If they fit we’re buying them.”
Horrid Henry gazed in horror at the horrendous pants.
“Those are girls’ pants!” he screamed.
“They are not,” said Mom.
“Are too!” shrieked Henry.
“I’m sick and tired of your excuses, Henry,” said Mom. “Put them on or no allowance for a year. I mean it.”
Horrid Henry put on the pink and green plaid pants, puffing out his stomach as much as possible. Not even Mom would make him buy pants that were too tight.
Oh no. The horrible pants had an elastic waist. They would fit a mouse as easily as an elephant.
“And lots of room to grow,” said Mom brightly. “You can wear them for years. Perfect.”
“NOOOOOO!” howled Henry. He flung himself on the floor kicking and
screaming. “NOOOO! THEY’RE GIRLS’ PANTS!!!”
“We’re buying them,” said Mom. She gathered up the plaid pants and stomped over to the register. She tried not to think about starting all over again trying to find a pair of shoes that Henry would wear.
A little girl in pigtails walked out of the dressing room, twirling in pink and green plaid pants.
“I love them, Mommy!” she shrieked. “Let’s get three pairs.”
Horrid Henry stopped howling. He looked at Mom.
Mom looked at Henry.
Then they both looked at the pink and green plaid pants Mom was carrying.
ROOT-A-TOOT!
ROOT-A-TOOT!
ROOT-A-TOOT!
TOOT! TOOT!
An earsplitting bugle blast shook the house. Flashing red lights bounced off the walls.
“What’s that noise?” said Dad, covering his ears.
“What noise?” said Mom, pretending to read.
ROOT-A-TOOT!
ROOT-A-TOOT!
ROOT-A-TOOT!
TOOT! TOOT!
Dad stared at Mom.
“You didn’t,” said Dad. “Not—Roota-Toot sneakers?”
Mom hid her face in her hands.
“I don’t know what came over me,” said Mom.
4
HORRID HENRY’S ARCH ENEMY
“Be bop a lu la!” boomed Jazzy Jim, bebopping around the class and bouncing to the beat.
“One day, my prince will come…” warbled Singing Soraya.
“Bam bam bam bam bam!” drummed Horrid Henry, crashing his books up and down on his table top.
“Class! Settle down!” shouted Miss Battle-Axe.
“Be bop a lu la!” boomed Jazzy Jim.
“One day, my prince will come…” warbled Singing Soraya.
“Bam bam bam bam bam!” drummed Horrid Henry.
“Jim!” barked Miss Battle-Axe. “Stop yowling. Soraya! Stop singing. Henry! Stop banging or everyone will miss playtime.”
“Be bop—” faltered Jim.
“…Prince will—” squeaked Soraya.
“Bam bam bam bam bam,” drummed Horrid Henry. He was Mad Moon Madison, crazy drummer for the Moldy
Drumsticks, whipping the shrieking crowd into a frenzy—
“HENRY!” bellowed Miss Battle-Axe. “STOP THAT NOISE!”
What did that ungrateful fan mean, noise? What noise? This wasn’t noise, this was great music, this was—Mad Moon Madison looked up from his drum kit. Whoops.
Silence.
Miss Battle-Axe glared at her class. Oh, for the good old days, when teachers could whack horrible children with rulers.
“Linda! Stop snoring. Graham! Stop drooling. Bert! Where’s your chair?”
“I dunno,” said Beefy Bert.
There was a new boy standing next
to Miss Battle-Axe. His brown hair was tightly slicked back. His shoes were polished. He carried a trumpet and a calculator. Yuck! He looked like a complete idiot. Horrid Henry looked away. And then looked back. Funny, there was something familiar about that boy. The way he stood with his nose in the air. The horrid little smirk on his face. He looked like—he looked just like—oh no, please no, it couldn’t be—Bossy Bill! Bossy Bill!!
“Class, we have a new boy,” said Miss Battle-Axe, doing her best to twist her thin lips into a welcoming smile. “I need someone to look after him and show him around. Who would like to be Bill’s friend for the day?”
Everyone put up their hand. Everyone but Horrid Henry. Uggh. Bossy Bill. What kind of cruel joke was this?
Bossy Bill was the horrible, stuck-up son of Dad’s boss. Horrid Henry hated Bill. Uggh! Yuck! Just thinking about Bill made Henry gag.
Henry had a suspicion he wasn’t Bill’s favorite person, either. The last time they’d met, Henry had tricked Bill into photocopying his bottom. Bill had got into trouble. Big, big trouble.
Miss Battle-Axe scanned the sea of waving hands.
“Me!” shouted Moody Margaret.
“Me!” shouted Kind Kasim.
“Me!” shouted Weepy William.
“There’s an empty seat next to Henry,” said Miss Battle-Axe, pointing. “Henry will look after you.”
NO, thought Henry.
“Waaaaaa,” wailed Weepy William. “I didn’t get picked.”
“Go and sit down, Bill,” continued Miss Battle-Axe. “Class, silent reading from page 12.”
Bossy Bill walked between the tables toward Horrid Henry.
Maybe he won’t recognize me, thought Henry hopefully. After all, it was a long time ago.
Suddenly Bill stopped. His face contorted with loathing.
Oops.
He recognized me, thought Horrid Henry.
Bill marched, scowling, to the seat next to Henry and sat down. His nose wrinkled as if he smelled a stinky smell.
“You say one word about what happened at my dad’s office and I’ll tell my dad,” hissed Bill.
“You say
one word to your dad and I’ll tell everyone at school you photocopied your bottom,” hissed Henry.
“Then I’ll tell on you!”
“I’ll tell on you!”
Bill shoved Henry.
Henry shoved Bill.
“He shoved me, Miss!” shouted Bossy Bill.
“He shoved me first!” shouted Horrid Henry.
“Henry!” said Miss Battle-Axe. “I am shocked and appalled. Is this how you welcome a new boy to our class?”
It is when the boy is Bossy Bill, thought Henry grimly.
He glared at Bill.
Bill glared at Henry.
“My old school’s a lot better than this dump,” hissed Bossy Bill.
“So why don’t you go back there?” hissed Henry. “No one’s stopping you.”
“Maybe I will,” said Bill.
Horrid Henry’s heart leapt. Was there a chance he could get Bill to leave? “You don’t want to stay here—we get four hours of homework a night,” lied Henry.
“So?” said Bill. “My old school gave you five hours.”
“The food’s horrible.”
“Big deal,” said Bill.
“And Miss Battle-Axe is the meanest teacher in the world.”
“What did you say, Henry?” demanded Miss Battle-Axe’s ice cold dagger voice.
“I just told Bill you were the keenest teacher in the world,” said Henry quickly.
“No he didn’t,” said Bill. “He said you were the meanest.”
“Keenest,” said Henry.
“Meanest,” said Bill.
Miss Battle-Axe glared at Horrid Henry.
“I’m watching you, Henry. Now get back to work.”
DING! DING! DING!
Hurray! Saved by the playtime bell.
Horrid Henry jumped from his seat. Maybe he could escape Bill if he ran out of class fast enough.
Henry pushed and shoved his way into the hall. Free! Free at last!
“Hey!” came an unwelcome voice beside him. A sweaty hand pulled on his shirt.
“The teacher said you’re supposed to show me around,” said Bossy Bill.
“OK, here are the bathrooms,” snarled Horrid Henry, waving his hand in
the direction of the girls’ bathroom. “And the photocopier’s in the office,” he added, pointing. “Why don’t you try it out?”
Bill scowled.
“I’m going to tell my dad that you attacked me,” said Bill. “In fact, I’m going to tell my dad every single bad thing you do in school. Then he’ll tell yours and you’ll get into trouble. And won’t I laugh.”
Henry’s blood boiled. What had he ever done to deserve Bossy Bill butting into his life? A spy in his class. Could school get any worse?
Aerobic Al jogged past.
“Henry photocopied his bottom at my dad’s office,” said Bill loudly. “Boy, did he get into trouble.”
AAARRRGGHHH!
“That’s a lie,” said Horrid Henry hotly. “Bill did, not me.”
“Yeah right, Henry,” said Dizzy Dave.
“Big bottom!” shrieked Moody Margaret.
“Big, big bottom!” shrieked Sour Susan. Bill smirked.
“Bye, big bottom,” said Bill. “Don’t forget, I’m watching you,” he hissed.
Henry sat down by himself on the broken bench in the secret garden. He had to get Bill out of his class. School was horrible enough without someone evil like Bill spying on him and spreading nasty rumors. His life would be ruined. He had to get rid of Bill— fast. But how?
Maybe he could get Bill to run screaming from school and never come back. Wow, thought Horrid Henry. Wouldn’t that be wonderful? Bye-bye Bossy Bill.
Or maybe he could get Bill to photocopy his bottom again. Probably not, thought Horrid Henry regretfully. Aha! He could trick Bill into dancing nude on Miss Battle-Axe’s desk singing “I’m a busy bumblebee—buzz buzz buzz.” That would be sure to get him expelled. The only trouble was— how?
I’ve got to think of something, thought Horrid Henry desperately. I’ve just got to.
* * *
“Henry,” said Dad the next evening, “my boss tells me you’ve been picking on his son. Bill was very upset.”
“He’s picking on me,” protested Henry.
“And that you were yelled at in class for shouting out.”
“No way,” lied Henry.
“And that you broke Andrew’s pencil.”
“That was an accident,” said Henry.
“And that you called Margaret bugface.”
“I didn’t,” wailed Henry. “Bill’s lying.”
“I want you to be on your best behavior from now on,” said Dad. “How do you think I feel hearing these reports about you from my boss? I’ve never been so embarrassed in my life.”
“Who cares?” screamed Horrid Henry. “What about me?”
“Go to your room!” shouted Dad.
“FINE!” yelled Horrid Henry, slamming the door behind him as hard as he could. I’ll beat you, Bill, thought Henry, if it’s the last thing I do.
Horrid Henry tried teasing Bill.
Horrid Henry tried pinching Bill.
He tried spreading rumors about Bill.
He even tried getting Bill to punch him so Bill would be suspended.
But nothing worked. Henry just got into more and more trouble.
On Monday, Dad yelled at Henry for making rude noises in class.
On Tuesday, Dad yelled at Henry for talking during story time.
On Wednesday, Dad yelled at Henry for not handing in his homework.
On Thursday, Mom and Dad yelled at Henry for chewing gum in class, passing notes to Ralph, throwing food, jiggling his desk, pulling Margaret’s hair, running down the hall, and kicking a football into the back playground. Then they banned him from the computer for a week. And all because of Bossy Bill.
* * *
Horrid Henry slunk into class. It was hopeless. Bill was here to stay. Horrid Henry would just have to grit his teeth and bear it.
Miss Battle-Axe started explaining electricity.
Henry looked around the classroom.
Speaking of Bill, where was he?
Maybe he has rabies, thought Horrid Henry hopefully. Or fallen down the toilet. Better still, maybe he’d been kidnapped by aliens.
Or maybe he’d been expelled. Yes! Henry could see it now. Bill on his knees in Mrs. Oddbod’s office, begging to stay. Mrs. Oddbod pointing to the door:
“Out of this school, you horrible monster! How dare you spy on Henry, our best pupil?”
“NOOO!” Bill would wail.
“BEGONE, WRETCH!” commanded Mrs. Oddbod. And out went Bossy Bill, sniveling, where armed guards were waiting to handcuff him and take him to prison. That must be what had happened.
Henry smiled. Oh joyful day! No more Bossy Bill, thought Horrid Henry happily, stretching his legs under his Bill-free table and taking a deep breath of Bill-free air.
“Henry!” snapped Miss Battle-Axe. “Come here.”
What now?
Slowly Horrid Henry heaved himself out of his chair and scuffed his way to Miss Battle-Axe’s desk, where she was busy slashing at homework with a bright red pen.
“Bill has a sore throat,” said Miss Battle-Axe.
Rats, thought Horrid Henry. Where was the black plague when you needed it?
“His parents want him to have his homework assignments so he doesn’t fall behind while he’s sick,” said Miss Battle-Axe. “If only all parents were so conscientious. Please give this math worksheet to your father to give to Bill’s dad.”
She handed Henry a piece of paper with ten multiplication sums on it and a large envelope.
“OK,” said Henry dully. Not even the thought of Bill lying in bed doing sums could cheer him up. All too soon Bill would be back. He was stuck with Bill forever.
That night Horrid Henry glanced at Bill’s math worksheet. Ten sums. Not enough, really, he thought. Why should Bill be bored in bed with no
thing to do but watch TV, and read comics, and eat chips?
And then Horrid Henry smiled. Bill wanted homework? Perhaps Henry could help. Tee hee, thought Horrid Henry, sitting down at the computer.
TAP.
TAP.
TAP.
HOMEWERK
Rite a storee abowt yor day. 20 pages long.
Ha ha ha, that will keep Bill busy, thought Horrid Henry. Now, what else? What else?
Aha!
Give ten reesons why watching TV is better than reading
NEW MATH
When does 2 + 2 =5 ?
When 2 is big enough.
Now explain why:
2+3=6
7-3=5
It was a lot more fun making up homework than doing it, thought Horrid Henry happily.
SPELLING:
Lern how to spel these words fer a test on Tuesday.
Terrantula
Stinkbomb
Moosli
Doovay
Screem
Intergalactik
SCEINSE
Gravity: does it work?
Drop an egg from a hight of 2 in. onto your mom or dad’s hed.
Record if it breaks. Drop another egg from a hight of 4 in. onto yor carpet. Does this egg break? Try this xperiment at least 12 times all over yor house.
Now that’s what I call homework, thought Horrid Henry. He printed out the worksheets, popped them in the envelope with Miss Battle-Axe’s sheet of sums, sealed it, and gave it to Dad.
“Bill’s homework,” said Henry. “Miss Battle-Axe asked me to give it to you to give to Bill’s dad.”
“I’ll make sure he gets it,” said Dad, putting the envelope in his briefcase. “I’m glad to see you’re becoming friends with Bill.”
* * *
Dad looked stern.
“I’ve got some bad news for you, Henry,” said Dad the next day.
Horrid Henry froze. What was he going to get told off about now? Oh no. Had Dad found out about what he’d done at lunchtime?
“I’m afraid Bill won’t be coming back to your school,” said Dad. “His parents have removed him. Something about new math and a gravity experiment that went wrong.”