Horrid Henry and the Scary Sitter by Francesca Simon Page B

would call him a bunny wunny. How could he play tricks on people with a pink polka dot bunny following him everywhere? He was ruined. His name would be a joke.
    “You can’t wear that,” said Henry desperately.
    “Yes I can,” said Peter.

    “I won’t let you,” said Henry.
    Perfect Peter looked at Henry. “You’re just jealous.”
    Grrr! Horrid Henry was about to tear that stupid costume off Peter when, suddenly, he had an idea.
    It was painful.
    It was humiliating.
    But anything was better than having Peter prancing about in pink polka dots.
    “Tell you what,” said Henry, “just because I’m so nice I’ll let you borrow my monster costume. You’ve always wanted to wear it.”
    “NO!” said Peter. “I want to be a bunny.”
    “But you’re supposed to be scary for Halloween,” said Henry.
    “I am scary,” said Peter. “I’m going to bounce up to people and yell ‘boo’.”
    “I can make you really scary, Peter,” said Horrid Henry.
    “How?” said Peter.
    “Sit down and I’ll show you.” Henry patted his desk chair.
    “What are you going to do?” said Peter suspiciously. He took a step back.
    “Nothing,” said Henry. “I’m just trying to help you.”
    Perfect Peter didn’t move.

    “How can I be scarier?” he said cautiously.
    “I can give you a scary haircut,” said Henry.
    Perfect Peter clutched his curls.
    “But I like my hair,” he said feebly.
    “This is Halloween,” said Henry. “Do you want to be scary or don’t you?”
    “Um, um, uh,” said Peter, as Henry pushed him down in the chair and got out the scissors.

    “Not too much,” squealed Peter.
    “Of course not,” said Horrid Henry. “Just sit back and relax, I promise you’ll love this.”
    Horrid Henry twirled the scissors.
    Snip! Snip! Snip! Snip! Snip!
     
    Magnificent, thought Horrid Henry. He gazed proudly at his work. Maybe he should be a hairdresser when he grew up. Yes! Henry could see it now. Customers would line up for miles for one of Monsieur Henri’s scary snips. Shame his genius was wasted on someone as yucky as Peter. Still…
    “You look great, Peter,” said Henry. “Really scary. Atomic Bunny. Go and have a look.”
    Peter went over and looked in the mirror.
    “AAAAAAAAAARGGGGGGG!”
    “Scared yourself, did you?” said Henry. “That’s great.”
    “AAAAAAAAAARGGGGGGG!” howled Peter.
    Mom ran into the room.
    “AAAAAAAAAARGGGGGGG!” howled Mom.
    “AAAAAAAAAARGGGGGGG!” howled Peter.
    “Henry!” screeched Mom. “What have you done?! You horrid, horrid boy!”

    What was left of Peter’s hair stuck up in ragged tufts all over his head. On one side was a big bald patch. “I was just making him look scary,” protested Henry. “He said I could.”
    “Henry made me!” said Peter.
    “My poor baby,” said Mom. She glared at Henry.
    “No trick-or-treating for you,” said Mom. “You’ll stay here.”

    Horrid Henry could hardly believe his ears. This was the worst thing that had ever happened to him.
    “NO!” howled Henry. This was all Peter’s fault.
    “I hate you Peter!” he screeched. Then he attacked. He was Medusa, coiling around her victim with her snaky hair.
    “Aaaahh!” screeched Peter.
    “Henry!” shouted Mom. “Go to your room!”
    * * *
    Mom and Peter left the house to go trick-or-treating. Henry had screamed and sobbed and begged. He’d put on his devil costume, just in case his tears melted their stony hearts. But no. His mean, horrible parents wouldn’t change their minds. Well, they’d be sorry.
    They’d all be sorry.
    Dad came into the living room. He was holding a large shopping bag.
    “Henry, I’ve got some work to finish so I’m going to let you hand out treats to any trick-or-treaters.”
    Horrid Henry stopped plotting his revenge. Had Dad gone crazy? Hand out treats? What kind of punishment was this? Horrid Henry fought to keep a big smile off his face.

    “Here’s the Halloween stuff, Henry,” said Dad. He handed Henry the heavy