Horrid Henry and the Soccer Fiend (5 page)

Henry stood disconsolately on the left wing, running back and forth as the play passed him by. How could he ever be MVP stuck out here? Well, no way was he staying in this stupid spot a moment longer.

Horrid Henry abandoned his position and chased after the ball. All the other defenders followed him.

Moody Margaret had the ball. Horrid Henry ran up behind her. He glanced at Miss Battle-Axe. She was busy chatting to Mrs. Oddbod. Horrid Henry went for a two-foot slide tackle and tripped her.

“Foul!” screeched Margaret. “He hacked my leg!”

“Liar!” screeched Henry. “I just went for the ball!”

“Cheater!” screamed Moody Margaret’s mom.

“Play on,” ordered Miss Battle-Axe.

Yes! thought Horrid Henry triumphantly. After all, what did blind old Miss Battle-Axe know about the rules of soccer? Nothing. This was his golden chance to score.

Now Jazzy Jim had the ball.

Horrid Henry stepped on his toes, elbowed him, and grabbed the ball.

“Hey, we’re on the same team!” yelped Jim.

Horrid Henry kept dribbling.

“Pass! Pass!” screamed Al. “I’m open!”

Henry ignored him. Pass the ball? Was Al crazy? For once Henry had the ball and he was keeping it.

Then suddenly Moody Margaret appeared from behind, barged him, dribbled the ball past Henry’s team, and kicked it straight past Weepy William into the goal. Moody Margaret’s team cheered.

Weepy William burst into tears.

“Waaaaaa,” wailed Weepy William.

“Idiot!” screamed Aerobic Al’s dad.

“She cheated!” shrieked Henry. “She fouled me!”

“Didn’t,” said Margaret.

“How dare you call my daughter a cheater?” screamed Margaret’s mom.

Miss Battle-Axe blew her whistle.

“Goal to Margaret’s team. The score is one– nothing.”

Horrid Henry gritted his teeth. He would score a goal if he had to trample on every player to do so.

Unfortunately, everyone else seemed to have the same idea.

“Ralph pushed me!” shrieked Aerobic Al.

“Didn’t!” lied Rude Ralph. “It was just an accident.”

“He used his hands; I saw him!” howled Al’s father. “Send him off.”

“I’ll send
you
off if you don’t behave,” snapped Miss Battle-Axe, looking up and blowing her whistle.

“It was kept in!” protested Henry.

“No way!” shouted Margaret. “It went past the line!”

“That was ball to hand!” yelled Kind Kasim.

“No way!” screamed Aerobic Al. “I just went for the ball.”

“Liar!”

“Liar!”

“Free kick to Margaret’s team,” said Miss Battle-Axe.

“Ouch!” screamed Soraya, as Brian stepped on her toes, grabbed the ball, and headed it into the goal past Kasim.

“Hurray!” cheered Al’s team.

“Foul!” screamed Margaret’s team.

“Score is one all,” said Miss Battle-Axe. “Five more minutes to go.”

AAARRRGGHH! thought Horrid Henry. I’ve got to score a goal to have a chance to be MVP. I’ve just got to. But how, how?

Henry glanced at Miss Battle-Axe. She appeared to be rummaging in her purse. Henry saw his chance. He stuck out his foot as Margaret hurtled past.

Crash!

Margaret tumbled.

Henry seized the ball.

“Henry kicked my leg!” shrieked Margaret.

“Did not!” shrieked Henry. “I just went for the ball.”

“REF!” screamed Margaret.

“He cheated!” screamed Margaret’s mom. “Are you blind, ref ?”

Miss Battle-Axe glared.

“My eyesight is perfect, thank you,” she snapped.

Tee hee, chortled Horrid Henry.

Henry stepped on Brian’s toes, elbowed him, then grabbed the ball. Then Dave elbowed Henry, Ralph trod on Dave’s toes, and Susan seized the ball and kicked it high overhead.

Henry looked up. The ball was high, high up. He’d never reach it, not unless, unless— Henry glanced at Miss Battle-Axe. She was watching a traffic officer patrolling outside the school gate. Henry leapt into the air and whacked the ball with his hand.

Thwack!

The ball hurled across the goal. “Goal!” screamed Henry.

“He used his hands!” protested Margaret.

“No way!” shouted Henry. “It was the hand of God!”

“Henry! Henry! Hen-ry!” cheered his team.

“Unfair!” howled Margaret’s team.

Miss Battle-Axe blew her whistle.

“Time!” she bellowed. “Al’s team wins 2–1.”

“Yes!” shrieked Horrid Henry, punching the air. He’d scored the winning goal! He’d be MVP! Ashton Athletic versus Man U, here I come!

* * *

Horrid Henry’s class limped through the door and sat down. Horrid Henry sat at the front, beaming. Miss Battle-Axe had to award him the tickets after his brilliant performance and spectacular, game-winning goal. The question was, who
deserved
to be his guest?

No one.

I know, thought Horrid Henry, I’ll sell my other ticket. Bet I get a million dollars for it. No, a billion dollars. Then I’ll buy my own team, and play striker any time I want to. Horrid Henry smiled happily.

Miss Battle-Axe glared at her class.

“That was absolutely disgraceful,” she said. “Cheating! Moving the goals! Shirt tugging!” she glared at Graham. “Pushing!”