Horrid Henry Rocks (4 page)

“Yeah, stay,” said Kung-Fu Kate.

“No!” said Violet, flouncing out of the tent.

“Hummph,” said Moody Margaret.

“She's no fun anyway. Now, everyone put your sleeping bags down where I say. I need to sleep by the entrance, because I need fresh air.”

“I want to sleep by the entrance,” said Soraya.

“No,” said Margaret, “it's my party so I decide. Susan, you go to the back because you snore.”

“Do not,” said Susan.

“Do too,” said Margaret.

“Liar.”

“Liar.”

SLAP!

SLAP!

“That's it!” wailed Susan. “I'm calling my mom.”

“Go ahead,” said Margaret, “see if I care, snore-box. That'll be tons more Chocolate Fudge Chewies for the rest of us.”

Sour Susan stood still. She'd been looking forward to Margaret's sleepover for ages. And she still hadn't had any of the midnight feast Margaret had promised.

“All right, I'll stay,” said Susan sourly, putting her sleeping bag down at the back of the tent by the dress-up chest.

“I want to be next to Gurinder,” said Lazy Linda, scratching her head.

“Do you have lice?” said Gurinder.

“No!” said Linda.

“You do too,” said Gurinder.

“Do not,” said Linda.

“Do too,” said Gurinder. “I'm not sleeping next to someone who has lice.”

“Me neither,” said Kate.

“Me neither,” said Soraya.

“Don't look at me,” said Margaret. “I'm not sleeping next to you.”

“I don't have lice!” wailed Linda.

“Go next to Susan,” said Margaret.

“But she snores,” protested Linda.

“But she has lice,” protested Susan.

“Do not.”

“Do not.”

“Bedbug head.”

“Snory!”

Suddenly something scuttled across the floor.

“EEEEK!” squealed Soraya. “It's a mouse!” She scrambled onto the dress-up chest. The lid sagged.

“It won't hurt you,” said Margaret.

“Yeah,” said Susan.

“Eeeek!” squealed Linda, shrinking back.

The lid sagged even more.

Cree—eaaak went the chest.

Aaarrrrggghhh, thought Horrid Henry, trying to squash himself down before he was squished.

“Eeeek!” squealed Gurinder, scrambling onto the chest.

CREE—EAAAAAK! went the chest.

Errrrgh, thought Horrid Henry, pushing up against the sagging lid as hard as he could.

“I can't sleep if there's a…mouse,” said Gurinder. She looked around nervously. “What if it runs on top of my sleeping bag?”

Margaret sighed. “It's only a mouse,” she said.

“I'm scared of mice,” whimpered Gurinder. “I'm leaving!” And she ran out of the tent, wailing.

“More food for the rest of us,” said Margaret, shrugging. “I say we feast now.”

“About time,” said Soraya.

“Let's start with the Chocolate Fudge Chewies,” said Margaret, opening the Secret Club cookie tin. “Everyone can have two, except for me, I get four 'cause it's my…”

Margaret peered into the tin. There were only a few crumbs inside.

“Who stole the cookies?” said Margaret.

“Wasn't me,” said Susan.

“Wasn't me,” said Soraya.

“Wasn't me,” said Kate.

“Wasn't me,” said Linda.

Tee-hee, thought Horrid Henry.

“One of you did, so no one is getting anything to eat until you admit it,” snapped Margaret.

“Meanie,” muttered Susan sourly.

“What did you say?” said Moody Margaret.

“Nothing,” said Susan.

“Then we'll just have to wait for the culprit to come forward,” said Margaret, scowling. “Meanwhile, get in your sleeping bags. We're going to tell scary stories in the dark. Who knows a good one?”

“I do,” said Susan.

“Not the story about the ghost kitty cat that drank up all the milk in your kitchen, is it?” said Margaret.

Susan scowled.

“Well, it's a true scary story,” said Susan.

“I know a real scary story,” said Kung-Fu Kate. “It's about this monster—”

“Mine's better,” said Margaret. “It's about a flesh-eating zombie that creeps around at night and rips off—”

“NOOOO,” wailed Linda. “I hate being scared. I'm calling my mom to come and get me.”

“No scaredy-cats allowed in the Secret Club,” said Margaret.

“I don't care,” said Linda, flouncing out.

“It's not a sleepover unless we tell ghost stories,” said Moody Margaret. “Turn off your flashlights. It won't be scary unless we're all sitting in the dark.”

Sniffle. Sniffle. Sniffle.

“I want to go home,” sniveled Soraya. “I've never slept away from home before…I want my mommy.”

“What a baby,” said Moody Margaret.

Horrid Henry was cramped and hot and uncomfortable. Pins and needles were shooting up his arm. He shifted his shoulder, brushing against the lid.

There was a muffled creak.

Henry froze. Whoops. Henry prayed they hadn't heard anything.

“…and the zombie crept inside the tent, gnashing its bloody teeth and sniffing the air for human flesh, hungry for more—”

Ow. His poor aching arm. Henry shifted position again.

Creak…

“What was that?” whispered Susan.

“What was what?” said Margaret.

“There was a…a…creak…” said Susan.

“The wind,” said Margaret. “Anyway, the zombie sneaked into the tent and—”

“You don't think…” hissed Kate.

“Think what?” said Margaret.

“That the zombie…the zombie…”

I'm starving, thought Horrid Henry. I'll just eat a few cookies really, really, really quietly—

Crunch. Crunch.

“What was that?” whispered Susan.

“What was what?” said Margaret. “You're ruining the story.”

“That…crunching sound,” hissed Susan.

Horrid Henry gasped. What an idiot he was! Why hadn't he thought of this before?

Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.

“Like someone…someone…crunching on…bones,” whispered Kung-Fu Kate.

“Someone…here…” whispered Susan.

Tap. Horrid Henry rapped on the underside of the lid.

Tap! Tap! Tap!

“I didn't hear anything,” said Margaret loudly.

“It's the zombie!” screamed Susan.

“He's in here!” screamed Kate. AAAAARRRRRRRGHHHHHHH!”

“I'm going home!” screamed Susan and Kate. “MOMMMMMMMMMYYYY!” they wailed, running off.

Ha ha, thought Horrid Henry. His brilliant plan had worked!!! Tee-hee. He'd hop out, steal the rest of the feast and scoot home. Hopefully Mom and Dad—

YANK!

Suddenly the chest lid was flung open and a flashlight shone in his eyes.

Moody Margaret's hideous face glared down at him.

“Gotcha!” said Moody Margaret. “Oh boy, are you in trouble. Just wait till I tell on you. Ha ha, Henry, you're dead.”