Horrid Henry and the Soccer Fiend (8 page)

“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.