Horrid Henry and the Soccer Fiend Read Online Free Page B

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