Horrid Henry On the Go Page 4

“Gonna be a rock star (and you ain’t)

  Don’t even—”

  Two security guards ran onstage and grabbed Horrid Henry.

  “Killer Boy Rats forever!” shrieked Henry as he was dragged off.

  Horrid Henry stared at the special delivery letter covered in skulls and crossbones. His hand shook.

  Horrid Henry goggled at the tickets and the backstage pass. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe. He was going to the Killer Boy Rats concert. He was actually going to the Killer Boy Rats concert.

  Life, thought Horrid Henry, beaming, was sweet.

  “NOOOOOOOOO!” screamed Horrid Henry. “I don’t want to spend the weekend with Steve.”

  “Don’t be horrid, Henry,” said Mom. “It’s very kind of Aunt Ruby to invite us down for the weekend.”

  “But I hate Aunt Ruby!” shrieked Henry. “And I hate Steve and I hate you!”

  “I can’t wait to go,” said Perfect Peter.

  “Shut up, Peter!” howled Henry.

  “Don’t tell your brother to shut up,” shouted Mom.

  “Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!” And Horrid Henry fell to the floor wailing and screaming and kicking.

  Stuck-Up Steve was Horrid Henry’s hideous cousin. Steve hated Henry. Henry hated him. The last time Henry had seen Steve, Henry had tricked him into thinking there was a monster under his bed. Steve had sworn revenge. Then there was the other time at the restaurant when…well, Horrid Henry thought it would be a good idea to avoid Steve until his cousin was grown-up and in prison for crimes against humanity.

  And now his mean, horrible parents were forcing him to spend a whole precious weekend with the toadiest, wormiest, smelliest boy who ever slimed out of a swamp.

  Mom sighed. “We’re going and that’s that. Ruby says Steve is having a lovely friend over so that should be extra fun.”

  Henry stopped screaming and kicking. Maybe Steve’s friend wouldn’t be a stuck-up monster. Maybe he’d been forced to waste his weekend with Steve too. After all, who’d volunteer to spend time with Steve? Maybe together they could squish Stuck-Up Steve once and for all.

  Ding dong.

  Horrid Henry, Perfect Peter, Mom, and Dad stood outside Rich Aunt Ruby’s enormous house on a gray, drizzly day. Steve opened the massive front door.

  “Oh,” he sneered. “It’s you.”

  Steve opened the present Mom had brought. It was a small flashlight. Steve put it down.

  “I already have a much better one,” he said.

  “Oh,” said Mom.

  Another boy stood beside him. A boy who looked vaguely familiar. A boy…Horrid Henry gasped. Oh no. It was Bill. Bossy Bill. The horrible son of Dad’s boss. Henry had once tricked Bill into photocopying his bottom. Bill had sworn revenge. Horrid Henry’s insides turned to jelly. Trust Stuck-Up Steve to be friends with Bossy Bill. It was bad enough being trapped in a house with one archenemy. Now he was stuck in a house with two…

  Stuck-Up Steve scowled at Henry. “You’re wearing that old shirt of mine,” he said. “Don’t your parents ever buy you new clothes?”

  Bossy Bill snorted.

  “Steve,” said Aunt Ruby. “Don’t be rude.”

  “I wasn’t,” said Steve. “I was just asking. No harm in asking, is there?”

  “No,” said Horrid Henry. He smiled at Steve. “So when will Aunt Ruby buy you a new face?”

  “Henry,” said Mom. “Don’t be rude.”

  “I was just asking,” said Henry. “No harm in asking, is there?” he added, glaring at Steve.

  Steve glared back.

  Aunt Ruby beamed. “Henry, Steve and Bill are taking you to their friend Tim’s paintballing party.”

  “Won’t that be fun,” said Mom.

  Peter looked frightened.

  “Don’t worry, Peter,” said Aunt Ruby, “you can help me plant seedlings while the older boys are out.”

  Peter beamed. “Thank you,” he said. “I don’t like paintballing. Too messy and scary.”

  Paintballing! Horrid Henry loved paintballing. The chance to splat Steve and Bill with ooey gooey globs of paint…hmmm, maybe the weekend was looking up.

  “Great!” said Horrid Henry.

  “How nice,” said Rich Aunt Ruby, “you boys already know each other. Think how much fun you’re all going to have sharing Steve’s bedroom together.”

  Uh-oh, thought Horrid Henry.

  “Yeah!” said Stuck-Up Steve. “We’re looking forward to sharing a room with Henry.” His piggy eyes gleamed.

  “Yeah!” said Bossy Bill. “I can’t wait.” His piggy eyes gleamed.

  “Yeah,” said Horrid Henry. He wouldn’t be sleeping a wink.

  Horrid Henry looked around the enormous high-ceilinged bedroom he’d be sharing with his two evil enemies for two very long days and one very long night. There was a bunk bed, which Steve and Bill had already nabbed, and two single beds. Steve’s bedroom shelves were stuffed with zillions of new toys and games, as usual.

  Bill and Steve smirked at each other. Henry scowled at them. What were they plotting?

  “Don’t you dare touch my Super-Blooper Blaster,” said Steve.

  “Don’t you dare touch my Demon Dagger Saber,” said Bill.

  A Super-Blooper Blaster! A Demon Dagger Saber! Trust Bill and Steve to have the two best toys in the world…Rats.

  “Don’t worry,” said Henry. “I don’t play with baby toys.”

  “Oh yeah,” said Stuck-Up Steve. “Bet you’re too much of a baby to jump off my top bunk onto your bed.”

  “Am not,” said Henry.

  “We’re not allowed to jump on beds,” said Perfect Peter.

  “We’re not allowed,” mimicked Steve. “I thought you were too poor to even have beds.”

  “Ha ha,” said Henry.

  “Chicken. Chicken. Scaredy-cat,” sneered Bossy Bill.

  “Squawk!” said Stuck-Up Steve. “I knew you’d be too scared, chicken.”

  That did it. No one called Horrid Henry chicken and lived. As if he, Henry, leader of a pirate gang, would be afraid to jump off a top bunk. Ha.

  “Don’t do it, Henry,” said Perfect Peter.

  “Shut up, worm,” said Henry.

  “But it’s so high,” squealed Peter, squeezing his eyes shut.

  Horrid Henry clambered up the ladder and stepped onto the top bunk. “It’s nothing,” he lied. “I’ve jumped off much higher.”

  “Well, go on then,” said Stuck-Up Steve.

  Boing! Horrid Henry bounced.

  Boing! Horrid Henry bounced higher. Whee! This bed was very springy.

  “We’re waiting, chicken,” said Bossy Bill.

  BOING! BOING! Horrid Henry bent his knees, then—leap! He jumped onto the single bed below.

  SMASH!

  Horrid Henry crashed to the floor as the bed collapsed beneath him.

  Huh? What? How could he have broken the bed? He hadn’t heard any breaking sounds. It was as if…as if…

  Mom, Dad, and Aunt Ruby ran into the room.

  “Henry broke the bed,” said Stuck-Up Steve.

  “We tried to stop him,” said Bossy Bill, “but Henry insisted on jumping.”

  “But…but…” said Horrid Henry.

  “Henry!” wailed Mom. “You horrid boy.”

  “How could you be so horrid?” said Dad. “No allowance for a year. Ruby, I’m so sorry.”

  Aunt Ruby pursed her lips. “These things happen,” she said.

  “And no paintballing party for you,” said Mom.

  What?

  “No!” wailed Henry.

  Then Horrid Henry saw a horrible sight. Behind Aunt Ruby’s back, Steve and Bill were covering their mouths and laughing. Henry realized the terrible truth. Bill and Steve had tricked him. They’d broken the bed. And now
he’d gotten the blame.

  “But I didn’t break it!” screamed Henry.

  “Yes you did, Henry,” said Peter. “I saw you.”

  AAAARRRRGGGGHHHH! Horrid Henry leaped at Peter. He was a storm god hurling thunderbolts at a foolish mortal.

  “AAAIIIEEEEEE!” squealed Perfect Peter.

  “Henry! Stop it!” shrieked Mom. “Leave your brother alone.”

  Nah nah ne nah nah mouthed Steve behind Aunt Ruby’s back.

  “Isn’t it lovely how nicely the boys are playing together?” said Aunt Ruby.

  “Yes, isn’t it?” said Mom.

  “Not surprising,” said Aunt Ruby, beaming. “After all, Steve is such a polite, friendly boy, I’ve never met anyone who didn’t love him.”

  Snore! Snore! Snore!

  Horrid Henry lay on a mattress listening to hideous snoring sounds. He’d stayed awake for hours, just in case they tried anything horrible, like pouring water on his head, or stuffing frogs in his bed. Which was what he was going to do to Peter, the moment he got home.

  Henry had just spent the most horrible Saturday of his life. He’d begged to go to the paintballing party. He’d pleaded to go to the paintballing party. He’d screamed about going to the paintballing party. But no. His mean, horrible parents wouldn’t budge. And it was all Steve and Bill’s fault. They’d tripped him going down the stairs.

  They’d kicked him under the table at lunch (and then complained that he was kicking them). And every time Aunt Ruby’s back was turned they stuck out their tongues and jeered: “We’re going paintballing and you’re not.”

  He had to get to that party. And he had to be revenged. But how? How? His two archenemies had banded together and struck the first blow. Could he booby-trap their beds and remove a few slats? Unfortunately, everyone would know he’d done it and he’d be in even more trouble than he was now.

  Scare them? Tell them there was a monster under the bed? Hmmm. He knew Steve was as big a scaredy-cat as Peter. But he’d already done that once. He didn’t think Steve would fall for it again.

  Get them into trouble? Turn them against each other? Steal their best toys and hide them? Hmmm. Hmmm. Horrid Henry thought and thought. He had to be revenged. He had to.

  Tweet tweet. It was Sunday morning. The birds were singing. The sun was shining. The—

  Yank!

  Bossy Bill and Stuck-Up Steve pulled off his blanket.

  “Nah na ne nah nah, we-ee beat you,” crowed Bill.

  “Nah na ne nah nah, we got you into trouble,” crowed Steve.

  Horrid Henry scowled. Time to put Operation Revenge into action.

  “Bill thinks you’re bossy, Steve,” said Henry. “He told me.”

  “Did not,” said Bossy Bill.

  “And Steve thinks you’re stuck-up, Bill,” added Henry sweetly.

  “No, I don’t,” said Steve.

  “Then why’d you tell me that?” said Horrid Henry.

  Steve stuck his nose in the air. “Nice try, Henry, you big loser,” said Stuck-Up Steve. “Just ignore him, Bill.”

  “Henry, it’s not nice to tell lies,” said Perfect Peter.

  “Shut up, worm,” snarled Horrid Henry.

  Rats.

  Time for plan B.

  Except he didn’t have a plan B.

  “I can’t wait for Tim’s party,” said Bossy Bill. “You never know what’s going to happen.”

  “Yeah, remember when he told us he was having a pirate party and instead we went to the Wild West Theme Park!” said Steve.

  “Or when he said we were having a sleepover, and instead we all went to a Manic Buzzards concert.”

  “And Tim gives the best party bags. Last year everyone got a Deluxe Demon Dagger Saber,” said Steve. “Wonder what he’ll give this year? Oh, I forgot, Henry won’t be coming to the party.”

  “Too bad you can’t come, Henry,” sneered Bossy Bill.

  “Yeah, too bad,” sneered Stuck-Up Steve. “Not.”

  ARRRRGGGHH. Horrid Henry’s blood boiled. He couldn’t decide what was worse, listening to them crow about having gotten him into so much trouble or brag about the great party they were going to and he wasn’t.

  “I can’t wait to find out what surprises he’ll have in store this year,” said Bill.

  “Yeah,” said Steve.

  Who cares? thought Horrid Henry. Unless Tim was planning to throw Bill and Steve into a shark tank. That would be a nice surprise. Unless of course…

  And then suddenly Horrid Henry had a brilliant, spectacular idea. It was so brilliant and so spectacular, that for a moment he wondered whether he could stop himself from flinging open the window and shouting his plan out loud. Oh wow. Oh wow. It was risky. It was dangerous. But if it worked, he would have the best revenge ever in the history of the world. No, the history of the solar system. No, the history of the universe!

  It was an hour before the party. Horrid Henry was counting the seconds until he could escape.

  Aunt Ruby popped her head around the door waving an envelope.

  “Letter for you boys,” she said.

  Steve snatched it and tore it open.

  “He must be planning something amazing,” said Bill.

  “I bet we’re all going to be acting in a movie!” said Steve.

  “Yeah!” said Bill.

  “Too bad you won’t, Henry,” said Stuck-Up Steve.

  “You’re so lucky,” said Henry. “I wish I were going.”

  Mom looked at Dad.

  Dad looked at Mom.

  Henry held his breath.

  “Well, you can’t, Henry, and that’s final,” said Mom.

  “It’s so unfair!” shrieked Henry.

  Henry’s parents dropped Steve and Bill off at Tim’s party on their way home. Steve was in his blue bunny pajamas and blue bunny fluffy slippers and clutching a panda.

  Bill was in his yellow duckling pajamas and yellow duckling fluffy slippers and clutching his monkey.

  “Shame you can’t come, Henry,” said Steve, smirking. “But we’ll be sure to tell you all about it.”

  “Do,” said Henry as Mom drove off.

  Horrid Henry heard squeals of laughter at Hoity-Toity Tim’s front door. Bill and Steve stood frozen. Then they started to wave frantically at the car.

  “Are they saying something?” said Mom, glancing in the rearview mirror.

  “Nah, just waving good-bye,” said Horrid Henry. He rolled down his window.

  “Have fun, guys!”

  “Henry! We’re waiting!”

  “Henry! Get down here!”

  “Henry! I’m warning you!”

  Horrid Henry sat on his bed and scowled. His mean, horrible parents could warn him all they liked. He wasn’t moving.

  “Henry! We’re going to be late,” yelled Mom.

  “Good!” shouted Henry.

  “Henry! This is your final warning,” yelled Dad.

  “I don’t want to go to Polly’s!” screamed Henry. “I want to go to Ralph’s birthday party.”

  Mom stomped upstairs.

  “Well you can’t,” said Mom. “You’re coming to the christening, and that’s that.”

  “NO!” screeched Henry. “I hate Polly, I hate babies, and I hate you!”

  Henry had been a ring bearer at the wedding of his cousin, Prissy Polly, when she’d married Pimply Paul. Now they had a prissy, pimply baby, Vomiting Vera.

  Henry had met Vera once before. She’d thrown up all over him. Henry had hoped never to see her again until she was grown up and behind bars, but no such luck. He had to go and watch her be dunked in a vat of water, on the same day that Ralph was having a birthday party at Goo-Shooter World. Henry had been longing for ages to go to Goo-Shooter World. Today was his chance. His only chance. But no. Everything was ruined.
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  Perfect Peter poked his head around the door.

  “I’m all ready, Mom,” said Perfect Peter. His shoes were polished, his teeth were brushed, and his hair neatly combed. “I know how annoying it is to be kept waiting when you’re in a rush.”

  “Thank you, darling Peter,” said Mom. “At least one of my children knows how to behave.”

  Horrid Henry roared and attacked. He was a swooping vulture digging his claws into a dead mouse.

  “AAAAAAAAAEEEEE!” squealed Peter.

  “Stop being horrid, Henry!” said Mom.

  “No one told me it was today!” screeched Henry.

  “Yes we did,” said Mom. “But you weren’t paying attention.”

  “As usual,” said Dad.

  “I knew we were going,” said Peter.

  “I DON’T WANT TO GO TO POLLY’S!” screamed Henry. “I want to go to Ralph’s!”

  “Get in the car—NOW!” said Dad.

  “Or no TV for a year!” said Mom.

  Eeek! Horrid Henry stopped wailing. No TV for a year. Anything was better than that.

  Grimly, he stomped down the stairs and out the front door. They wanted him in the car. They’d have him in the car.

  “Don’t slam the door,” said Mom.

  SLAM!

  Horrid Henry pushed Peter away from the car door and scrambled for the left-hand side behind the driver. Perfect Peter grabbed his legs and tried to climb over him.

  Victory! Henry got there first.

  Henry liked sitting on the left-hand side so he could watch the speedometer.

  Peter liked sitting on the left-hand side so he could watch the speedometer.

  “Mom,” said Peter. “It’s my turn to sit on the left!”

  “No it isn’t,” said Henry. “It’s mine.”

  “Mine!”

  “Mine!”

  “We haven’t even left and already you’re fighting?” said Dad.

  “You’ll take turns,” said Mom. “You can switch after we stop.”