Horrid Henry and the Soccer Fiend (7 page)

Horrid Henry looked around. Wow! There was lots of great stuff on display.

“I want the Hip-Hop Robots,” said Henry.

“No,” said Mom.

“I want the new Waterblaster!” screeched Henry.

“No,” said Mom.

“I want a Creepy Crawly lunch box!”

“NO!” said Mom, pulling him into the boys’ clothing department.

What, thought Horrid Henry grimly, is the point of going shopping if you never buy anything?

“I want Root-a-Toot sneakers with flashing red lights,” said Henry. He could see himself now, strolling into class, a bugle blasting and red light flashing every time his feet hit the floor. Cool! He’d love to see Miss Battle-Axe’s face when he exploded into class wearing them.

“No,” said Mom, shuddering.

“Oh please,” said Henry.

“NO!” said Mom, “We’re here to buy pants and sensible school shoes.”

“But I want Root-a-Toot sneakers!” screamed Horrid Henry. “Why can’t we buy what
I
want to buy? You’re the meanest mother in the world and I hate you!”

“Don’t be horrid, Henry. Go and try these on,” said Mom, grabbing a selection of hideous pants and revolting T-shirts. “I’ll keep looking.”

Horrid Henry sighed loudly and slumped toward the dressing room. No one in the world suffered as much as he did. Maybe he could hide between the clothes racks and never come out.

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.