Horrid Henry and the Scary Sitter (4 page)

“No way!” shrieked Tetchy Tess, slamming down the phone.

“No way!” shrieked Crabby Chris, slamming down the phone.

“No way!” shrieked Angry Anna. “What do you think I am, crazy?”

Even Mellow Martin said he was busy.

Mom hung up the phone and groaned.

It wasn’t easy finding someone to babysit more than once for Horrid Henry. When Tetchy Tess came, Henry flooded the bathroom. When Crabby Chris came he hid her homework and “accidentally” poured red grape juice down the front of her new white jeans. And when Angry Anna came, Henry— no, it’s too dreadful. Suffice it to say that Anna ran screaming from the house and Henry’s parents had to come home early.

Horrid Henry hated babysitters. He wasn’t a baby. He didn’t want to be sat on. Why should he be nice to some ugly, stuck-up, bossy teenager who’d hog the TV and pig out on Henry’s cookies? Parents should just stay at home where they belonged, thought Horrid Henry.

And now it looked like they would have to. Ha! His parents were mean and horrible, but he’d had a lot of practice managing them. Babysitters were unpredictable. Babysitters were hard work. And by the time you’d broken them in and shown them who was boss, for some reason they didn’t want to come any more. The only good babysitters let you stay

up all night and eat candy until you were sick. Sadly, Horrid Henry never got one of those.

“We have to find a babysitter,” wailed Mom. “The party is tomorrow night. I’ve tried everyone. Who else is there?”

“There’s got to be someone,” said Dad. “Think!”

Mom thought.

Dad thought.

“What about Rebecca?” said Dad.

Horrid Henry’s heart missed a beat. He stopped drawing mustaches on Perfect Peter’s school pictures. Maybe he’d heard wrong. Oh please, not Rebecca! Not—Rabid Rebecca!

“Who did you say?” asked Henry. His voice quavered.

“You heard me,” said Dad. “Rebecca.”

“NO!” screamed Henry. “She’s horrible!”

“She’s not horrible,” said Dad. “She’s just—strict.”

“There’s no one else,” said Mom grimly. “I’ll call Rebecca.”

“She’s a monster!” wailed Henry. “She made Ralph go to bed at six o’clock!”

“I like going to bed at six o’clock,” said Perfect Peter. “After all, growing children need their rest.”

Horrid Henry growled and attacked. He was the Creature from the Black Lagoon, dragging the foolish mortal down to a watery grave.

“AAAEEEEE!” squealed Peter. “Henry pulled my hair.”

“Stop being horrid, Henry!” said Dad. “Mom’s on the phone.”

Henry prayed. Maybe she’d be busy. Maybe she’d say no. Maybe she’d be dead. He’d heard all about Rebecca. She’d made Tough Toby get in his pajamas at five o’clock
and
do all his homework. She’d unplugged Dizzy Dave’s computer. She’d

made Moody Margaret wash the floor. No doubt about it, Rabid Rebecca was the toughest teen in town.

Henry lay on the rug and howled. Mom shouted into the phone.

“You can! That’s great, Rebecca. No, that’s just the TV—sorry for the noise. See you tomorrow.”

“NOOOOOOOOO!” wailed Henry.

Ding dong.

“I’ll get it!” said Perfect Peter. He skipped to the door. Henry flung himself on the carpet.

“I DON’T WANT TO HAVE A BABYSITTER!” he wailed.

The door opened. In walked the biggest, meanest, ugliest, nastiest-looking girl Henry had ever seen. Her arms were enormous. Her head was enormous. Her teeth were enormous. She looked like she ate elephants for breakfast, crocodiles for lunch, and snacked on toddlers.

“What have you got to eat?” snarled Rabid Rebecca.

Dad took a step back. “Help yourself to anything in the fridge,” said Dad.

“Don’t worry, I will,” said Rebecca.

“GO HOME, YOU WITCH!” howled Henry.

“Bedtime is nine o’clock,” shouted Dad, trying to be heard above Henry’s screams. He edged his way carefully past Rebecca, jumped over Henry, then dashed out the front door.

“I DON’T WANT TO HAVE A BABYSITTER!” shrieked Henry.

“Be good, Henry,” said Mom weakly. She stepped over Henry, then escaped from the house.

The door closed.

Horrid Henry was alone in the house with Rabid Rebecca.

He glared at Rebecca.

Rebecca glared at him.

“I’ve heard all about you, you little creep,” growled Rebecca. “No one bothers me when I’m babysitting.”

Horrid Henry stopped screaming.

“Oh yeah,” said Horrid Henry. “We’ll see about that.”

Rabid Rebecca bared her fangs. Henry recoiled. Perhaps I’d better keep out of her way, he thought, then slipped into the living room and turned on the TV.

Ahh, Mutant Max. Hurray! How bad could life be when a great program like Mutant Max was on? He’d annoy Rebecca as soon as it was over.

Rebecca stomped into the room and snatched the remote.

ZAP!

DA DOO, DA DOO DA, DA DOO DA DOO DA, tangoed some horrible spangled dancers.

“Hey,” said Henry. “I’m watching Mutant Max.”

“Tough,” said Rebecca. “
I’m
watching ballroom dancing.”

Snatch!

Horrid Henry grabbed the clicker.

ZAP!

“And it’s mutants, mutants, mut—” Snatch!

Zap!

DA DOO, DA DOO DA, DA DOO DA DOO DA. DOO, DA DOO DA, DA DOO DA DOO DA.

Horrid Henry tangoed around the room, gliding and sliding.