Horrid Henry and the Soccer Fiend by Francesca Simon Read Free Book Online Page B

Goody-Goody Gordon’s house.
    At last, the coast was clear. He’d been trying to get ahold of Peter’s diary for days. There was no time to lose.
    Tomorrow was Peter’s class assembly. Would he mention Sunday’s food fight, when Henry had been forced to throw soggy pasta at Peter? Or when Henry had to push Peter off the comfy black chair and pinch him? Or yesterday when Henry banished him from the

    Purple Hand Club and Peter had run screaming to Mom? A lying, slimy worm like Peter would be sure to make it look like Henry was the villain when in fact Peter was always to blame.
    Even worse, what horrid lies had Peter been making up about him? People would read Peter’s ravings and think they were true. When Henry was famous, books would be written about him, and someone would find Peter’s diary and believe it! When things were written down they had a horrible way of seeming to be true even when they were big fat lies.
    Henry sneaked into Peter’s bedroom and shut the door. Now, where was that diary? Henry glanced at Peter’s tidy desk. Peter kept it on the second shelf, next to his crayons and trophies.
    The diary was gone.
    Rats. Peter must have hidden it.
    That little worm, thought Horrid Henry. Why on earth would he hide his diary? And
where
on earth would that smelly toad hide it? Behind his “Good as Gold” certificates? In the laundry basket? Underneath his stamp collection?
    He checked Peter’s sock drawer. No diary.

    He checked Peter’s underwear drawer.
    No diary.
    He peeked under Peter’s pillow, and under Peter’s bed.
    Still no diary.
    OK, where would
I
hide a diary, thought Horrid Henry desperately. Easy. I’d put it in a chest and bury it in the garden, with a pirate curse on it.
    Somehow he doubted Perfect Peter would be so clever.

    OK, thought Henry, if I were an ugly toad like him, where would I hide it?
    The bookcase. Of course. What better place to hide a book?
    Henry strolled over to Peter’s bookcase, with all the books arranged neatly in alphabetical order. Aha! What was

    that sticking out between
The Happy Nappy
and
The Hoppy Hippo
?
    Gotcha, thought Horrid Henry, yanking the diary off the shelf. At last he would know Peter’s secrets. He’d make him cross out all his lies if it was the last thing he did.
    Horrid Henry sat down and began to read:

    Slowly Horrid Henry closed Peter’s diary. He knew Peter’s diary would be bad. But never in his worst nightmares had he imagined anything this bad.
    Perfect Peter hadn’t mentioned him once. Not once.
    You’d think I didn’t even live in this house, thought Henry. He was outraged. How dare Peter
not
write about him? And then all the stupid things Peter
had
written.
    Henry’s name would be mud when people heard Peter’s diary in the assembly and found out what a sad brother he had. Everyone would tease him. Horrid Henry would never live down the shame.
    Peter needed Henry’s help, and he needed it fast. Horrid Henry grabbed a pencil and got to work.

    That’s more like it, thought Horrid Henry.

    Much better, thought Horrid Henry. Now that’s what I call a diary. Everyone would have died of boredom otherwise.
    Henry carefully replaced Peter’s diary in the bookcase. I hope Peter appreciates what I’ve done for him, thought Horrid Henry.
     
    The entire school gathered in the hall for the assembly. Peter’s class sat proudly on benches at the front. Henry’s class sat cross-legged on the floor. The parents sat on chairs down both sides.
    Mom and Dad waved at Peter. He waved shyly back.
    Miss Lovely stood up.
    “Hello moms and dads, boys and girls, welcome to our class assembly. This quarter our class has been keeping diaries. We’re going to read some of them to you now. First to read will be Peter. Everyone pay attention, and see if you too can be as good as I know Peter has been. I’d like everyone here to copy one of Peter’s good deeds. I know I can’t wait to hear how he has spent this last week.”
    Peter stood up,