Horrid Henry's Christmas by Francesca Simon Page B

door in Moody Margaret’s face after he’d pushed her away. Wow. Maybe he’d even get a second song. “Ninety-Nine Bottles of Pop on the Wall” would fit right into the story: he’d sing and dance while knocking his less talented classmates off a wall. Wouldn’t that be fun!

    Miss Battle-Axe handed a page to Henry. “Your script,” she said.
    Henry was puzzled. Surely there were some pages missing?
    He read:
    (Joseph knocks. The innkeeper opens the door.)
    JOSEPH: Is there any room at the inn? INNKEEPER: No.
    (The innkeeper shuts the door.)
    Horrid Henry turned over the page.
    It was blank. He held it up to the light.
    There was no secret writing. That was it.
    His entire part was one line. One stupid puny line. Not even a line, a word. “No.”
    Where was his song? Where was his dance with the bottles and the guests at the inn? How could he, Horrid Henry, the best actor in the class (and indeed, the world) be given just one word in the school play? Even the donkeys got a song.
    Worse, after he said his
one
word, Perfect Peter and Moody Margaret got to yack for hours about mangers and wise men and shepherds and sheep, and then sing a duet, while he, Henry, hung around behind the hay with the blades of grass.
    It was so unfair!
    He
should be the star of the show, not his stupid worm of a brother. Why on earth was Peter cast as Joseph anyway? He was a terrible actor. He couldn’t sing, he just squeaked like a squished toad. And why was Margaret playing Mary? Now she’d never stop bragging and swaggering.
    AAARRRRGGGGHHHH!
    “Isn’t it exciting!” said Mom.
    “Isn’t it thrilling!” said Dad. “Our little boy, the star of the show.”
    “Well done, Peter,” said Mom.
    “We’re so proud of you,” said Dad. Perfect Peter smiled modestly.
    “Of course I’m not
really
the star,” he said, “Everyone’s important, even little parts like the blades of grass and the innkeeper.”

    Horrid Henry pounced. He was a Great White shark lunging for the kill.
    “AAAARRRRGGGHH!” squealed Peter. “Henry bit me!”
    “Henry! Don’t be horrid!” snapped Mom.
    “Henry! Go to your room!” snapped Dad.
    Horrid Henry stomped upstairs and slammed the door. How could he bear the humiliation of playing the innkeeper when Peter was the star? He’d just have to force Peter to switch roles with him. Henry was sure he could find a way to persuade Peter, but persuading Miss Battle-Axe was a different matter. Miss Battle-Axe had a mean, horrible way of never doing what Henry wanted.
    Maybe he could trick Peter into leaving the show. Yes! And then nobly offer to replace him.
    But unfortunately, there was no guarantee Miss Battle-Axe would give Henry Peter’s role. She’d probably just replace Peter with Goody-Goody Gordon. He was stuck.
    And then Horrid Henry had a brilliant, spectacular idea. Why hadn’t he thought of this before? If he couldn’t play a bigger part, he’d just have to make his part bigger. For instance, he could
scream
“No.”
That
would get a reaction. Or he could bellow “No,” and then hit Joseph. I’m an angry innkeeper, thought Horrid Henry, and I hate guests coming to my inn. Certainly smelly ones like Joseph. Or he could shout “No,” hit Joseph, then rob him. I’m a robber innkeeper, thought Henry. Or, I’m a robber
pretending
to be an innkeeper. That would liven up the play a bit. Maybe he could be a French robber innkeeper, shout “
Non
,” and rob Mary and Joseph. Or he was a French robber
pirate
innkeeper, so he could shout “
Non
,” tie Mary and Joseph up, and make them walk the plank. Hmmm, thought Horrid Henry. Maybe my part won’t be so small. After all, the innkeeper
was
the most important character.

December 12th
(only 13 more days till Christmas)
    Rehearsals had been going on forever. Horrid Henry spent most of his time slumping in a chair. He’d never seen such a boring play. Naturally he’d done everything he could to improve it.
    “Can’t I add a dance?”