Horrid Henry's Underpants (5 page)

Horrid Henry went up to Miss Battle-Axe and whispered in her ear.

“Forgot your underpants, eh?” barked Miss Battle-Axe loudly.

Henry blushed scarlet. When he was king he’d make Miss Battle-Axe walk around town every day wearing underpants on her head.

“Well, Henry, today is your lucky day,” said Miss Battle-Axe, pulling something pink and lacy out of her pocket. “I found these in the boys’ bathroom.”

“Take them away!” screamed Horrid Henry.

Cough! Cough!

Sneeze! Sneeze!

“Are you all right, Peter?” asked Mom.

Peter coughed, choked, and spluttered.

“I’m OK,” he gasped.

“Are you sure?” said Dad. “You don’t look very well.”

“It’s nothing,” said Perfect Peter, coughing.

Mom felt Peter’s sweaty brow.

“You’ve got a temperature,” said Mom. “I think you’d better stay home from school today.”

“But I don’t want to miss school,” said Peter.

“Go back to bed,” said Mom.

“But I want to go to school,” wailed Peter. “I’m sure I’ll be—” Peter’s pale, sweaty face turned green. He dashed up the stairs to the bathroom. Mom ran after him.

Blecccccccchhhh. The horrible sound of vomiting filled the house.

Horrid Henry stopped eating his toast. Peter, stay at home? Peter, miss school? Peter, lying around watching TV while he, Henry, had to suffer a long hard day with Miss Battle-Axe?

No way! He was sick, too. Hadn’t he coughed twice this morning? And he had definitely sneezed last night. Now that he thought about it, he could feel those flu germs invading. Yup, there they were, marching down his throat.

Stomp, stomp, stomp marched the germs. Mercy! shrieked his throat. Ha ha ha gloated the germs.

Horrid Henry thought about those spelling words he hadn’t learned. The map he hadn’t finished coloring. The book report he hadn’t done.

Oww. His throat hurt.

Oooh. His tummy hurt.

Eeek. His head hurt.

Yippee! He was sick!

So what would it be?

Math or Mutant Max?

Reading or relaxing?

Commas or comics?

Tests or TV?

Hmmm, thought Horrid Henry. Hard choice.

Cough. Cough.

Dad continued reading the paper.

COUGH! COUGH! COUGH! COUGH! COUGH!

“Are you all right, Henry?” asked Dad, without looking up.

“No!” gasped Henry. “I’m sick, too. I can’t go to school.”

Slowly Dad put down his newspaper.

“You don’t look ill, Henry,” said Dad.

“But I am,” whimpered Horrid Henry. He clutched his throat. “My throat really hurts,” he moaned. Then he added a few coughs, just in case.

“I feel weak,” he groaned. “Everything aches.”

Dad sighed.

“All right, you can stay home,” he said.

Yes! thought Horrid Henry. He was amazed. It usually took much more moaning and groaning before his mean, horrible parents decided he was sick enough to miss a day of school.

“But no playing on the computer,” said Dad. “If you’re sick, you have to lie down.” Horrid Henry was outraged.

“But it makes me feel better to play on the computer,” he protested.

“If you’re well enough to play on the computer, you’re well enough to go to school,” said Dad.

Rats.

Oh well, thought Horrid Henry. He’d get his blanket, lie on the sofa and watch lots of TV instead. Then Mom would

bring him cold drinks, lunch on a tray, maybe even ice cream. It was always such a waste when you were too sick to enjoy being sick, thought Horrid Henry happily.

He could hear Mom and Dad arguing upstairs.

“I need to go to work,” said Mom.

“I need to go to work,” said Dad.

“I stayed home last time,” said Mom.

“No you didn’t, I did,” said Dad.

“Are you sure?” said Mom.

“Yes,” said Dad.

“Are you sure you’re sure?” said Mom.

Horrid Henry could hardly believe his ears. Imagine arguing over who got to stay home! When he was grown-up he was going to stay home full time, testing computer games for a million dollars a week.

He bounced into the sitting room. Then he stopped bouncing. A horrible, ugly, snotty creature was stretched out under a blanket in the comfy black chair. Horrid Henry glanced at the TV. A dreadful assortment of wobbling creatures were dancing and prancing.

TRA LA LA LA LA,

WE LIVE AT NELLIE’S

WE’VE ALL GOT BIG BELLIES

WE EAT PURPLE JELLIES

AT NELLIE’S NURSERY (tee hee)

Horrid Henry sat down on the sofa.

“I want to watch
Robot Rebels
,” said Henry.

“I’m watching
Nellie’s Nursery
,” said Peter, sniffing.

“Stop sniffing,” said Henry.

“I can’t help it, my nose is running,” said Peter.

“I’m sicker than you, and
I’m
not sniffing,” said Henry.

“I’m sicker than you,” said Peter. “Faker.”

“Faker.”

“Liar.”

“Liar!”

“MOM!” shrieked Henry and Peter.

Mom came into the room, carrying a tray of cold drinks and two thermometers.

“Henry’s being mean to me!” whined Peter.

“Peter’s being mean to
me!
” whined Henry.

“If you’re well enough to fight, you’re well enough to go to school, Henry,” said Mom, glaring at him.

“I wasn’t fighting, Peter was,” said Henry.

“Henry was,” said Peter, coughing.

Henry coughed louder.

Peter groaned.

Henry groaned louder.

“Uggghhhhh,” moaned Peter.

“Uggghhhhhhhhhh,” moaned Henry. “It’s not fair. I want to watch
Robot Rebels
.”

“I want to watch
Nellie’s Nursery
,” whimpered Peter.

“Peter will choose what to watch because he’s the sickest,” said Mom.

Peter, sicker than he was? As if. Well, no way was Henry’s sick day going to be ruined by his horrible brother.

“I’m the sickest, Mom,” protested Henry. “I just don’t complain so much.”

Mom looked tired. She popped one thermometer into Henry’s mouth and the other into Peter’s.

“I’ll be back in five minutes to check them,” she said. “And I don’t want to hear another peep from either of you,” she added, leaving the room.

Horrid Henry lay back weakly on the sofa with the thermometer in his mouth. He felt terrible. He touched his forehead. He was burning! His temperature must be 105!

I bet my temperature is so high the thermometer won’t even have enough numbers, thought Henry. Just wait till Mom saw how ill he was. Then she’d be sorry she’d been so mean.

Perfect Peter started groaning. “I’m going to be sick,” he gasped, taking the thermometer from his mouth and running from the room.

The moment Peter left, Henry leapt up from the sofa and checked Peter’s thermometer. 101 degrees! Oh no, Peter had a temperature. Now Peter would start getting
all
the attention. Mom would make Henry fetch and carry for him. Peter might even get extra ice cream.

Something had to be done.