The Boy in the Dress Read online

“I’ll just take the Italian Vogue thanks, Raj,” said Lisa as she put her money down on the counter. “Goodbye.”

  “Au revoir,” added Dennis.

  “Goodbye, ladies, do come back soon.”

  They left the shop giddy with excitement, running away as they carried the exceptionally heavy magazine between them. Raj came out of the shop holding a box of crisps and shouted, “You drive a hard bargain, Lisa. I’ll throw in another box of roast beef Monster Munch absolutely free!”

  Raj’s voice echoed down the street as Dennis and Lisa ran, breathless with excitement.

  ∨ The Boy in the Dress ∧

  11

  ‘These high heels are killing me’

  “You did it!” said Lisa, as they sat on a wall to recover their breath.

  “He really thought I was a girl!” exclaimed Dennis. “That’s the best fun I’ve had…well ever!”

  “Well, let’s go into town then! There should be loads of people there!”

  “I’d love to Lisa, but these high heels are killing me!” said Dennis.

  “Not easy being a girl, is it?” she said.

  “No, I had no idea your shoes were so painful. How do you wear them every day?”

  He took his shoes off and rubbed his feet. They felt like they’d had been put in a vice from the Metalwork room. “Aah, let’s just go back, Lisa. I need to get changed and go and meet John up the park anyway. He’ll be wondering where I am.”

  “Oh!” Lisa couldn’t hide her disappointment. “Spoilsport.”

  “Morning, Lisa!”

  It was Mac, a boy from Lisa’s year. He huffed and puffed his way up the street to join them. Mac was one of the fattest boys in the school, and endured the unwelcome celebrity that went with it. He had been to Raj’s shop as he did every day, and was carrying a bag of goodies.

  “Oh, hi,” said Lisa brightly, before whispering to Dennis, “don’t worry, just keep quiet.” She raised her voice and said, “So, Mac, have you got anything nice there?”

  Unlike most of the pupils, Lisa called Mac by his name, rather than his nickname, ‘Big Mac and fries’. Sometimes children pass on cruelty unthinkingly like they would a cold, but Lisa was different.

  “Oh it’s just my breakfast, Lisa. A couple of bags of Maltesers, a Toblerone, a Bounty, Jelly Tots, some Skips, seven bags of Monster Munch, Raj was doing a special offer on those, a box of Creme Eggs, and a can of Diet Coke.”

  “Diet Coke?” asked Lisa.

  “Yeah, I’m trying to lose some weight,” said Mac without irony.

  “Well, good luck with that,” said Lisa, almost without irony. “You know it wouldn’t do if we were all thin you know.”

  “Maybe not. Who’s your lovely friend then?” he asked with a smile, as he popped a whole Creme Egg in his mouth.

  “Oh, this is my French pen-pal, Denise. She’s staying with me for a bit.”

  Dennis smiled at Mac uncertainly. Mac stared at him and kept chewing. It was quite a long time before he had demolished enough of the Creme Egg in his mouth to resume speaking. “Bonjour, Denise,” he mumbled through the chocolate.

  “Bonjour, Mac,” replied Dennis, praying the conversation wouldn’t continue past the few French words he knew.

  “Parlez-vous Anglais?” Mac asked.

  “Oui, I mean, yes, a little,” said Dennis awkwardly.

  “I had a French pen-pal come to stay once. Herve was his name. Nice guy. Smelled a bit though. He wouldn’t take a shower so in the end we had to hose him down at the end of the garden.” He was still chewing. “Herve came into school with me, are you coming in with Lisa tomorrow? I do hope so. I think French girls are gorgeous.” As he said this a little spittle of chocolate egg ran down his chin. Dennis looked at Lisa with panic in his eyes.

  “Erm yes, of course Denise is coming in with me tomorrow,” said Lisa.

  “I am?” said Dennis, so shocked he nearly lost his lady voice and his French accent all at once.

  “Yes, of course you are. We’ll see you tomorrow, Mac.”

  “OK girls, au revoir!” said Mac, before he made his way down the street, joyfully swinging his bag of confectionary as he went.

  “Oh no!” said Dennis.

  “Oh yes!” said Lisa.

  “Are you out of your mind?”

  “Come on, at least think about it. What if you could fool everyone at school? It would be such a laugh, and it would be our little secret.”

  “Well, I suppose it would be the most amazing thing,” said Dennis, a smile broadening across his face. “If the teachers, my friends, my brother, if everyone believed I was a girl…”

  “Well…?”

  “OK, but I’m gonna need some different shoes!”

  But little did Dennis know, as he tottered home in his uncomfortable shoes, that he was about to take a tumble…

  ∨ The Boy in the Dress ∧

  12

  Another World

  “I’m still worried about these shoes,” said Dennis.

  “They’re fine. You can’t even tell they’re extra wides.”

  It was Monday morning, and Lisa and Dennis stood outside the school gates. Dennis was dressed as Denise again, in the orange dress he loved so much. Maybe it was the sequins, or maybe it was his nerves, but he was sweating.

  “I can’t do it…” said Dennis.

  “It’ll be fine,” assured Lisa in hushed tones, as pupils and teachers made their way in to school.

  “You won’t have to say much. No one here can speak French. They can barely speak English.”

  Dennis was too tense to laugh at Lisa’s joke. “Fooling Raj and Mac was one thing, but the whole school? I mean, someone’s bound to recognise me…”

  “They won’t. You look so different. No one in a million years is going to think you’re Dennis.”

  “Not so loud!”

  “Sorry. Look, trust me, no one’s going to have a clue as to who you are. But you know, we could just go home instead…”

  Dennis thought for a moment. “No. That would be the boring thing to do.”

  Lisa simply smiled. Dennis smiled back and sashayed into the playground. Lisa had to quicken her pace.

  “Calm down,” said Lisa. “You’re a French exchange student, not a supermodel.”

  “Sorry – I mean, desolee.”

  Some of the kids stopped and stared. The boys always stared at Lisa anyway because she was so wildly attractive. And the girls liked to check out what she was wearing, even the jealous ones who invented reasons not to like her. But now she was with this new girl not wearing school uniform, there was even more reason to look. Dennis could sense all those eyes on him, and loved it. He spotted Darvesh waiting for him outside the classroom as he always did. Sometimes they would have a quick kick-about before the bell rung. Darvesh scrutinised Dennis for a moment, then looked away. Wow, thought Dennis. Even my best friend doesn’t recognise me.

  Lisa’s classroom was on the top floor of the main school building. Although John was in the same year as Lisa, he wasn’t in the same class. And kids two years older than Dennis didn’t know him, just as he didn’t know them, so Dennis had never met most of the people in Lisa’s class. In a school of nearly a thousand pupils, it was very easy to feel anonymous.

  Unless, of course, you were unutterably gorgeous like Lisa, or had once put your willy in a test-tube in the middle of a chemistry lesson, like Rory Malone.

  By the time they reached the classroom, the bell had already rung. They entered just as Lisa’s form teacher Miss Bresslaw was calling the register. Miss Bresslaw was a well-liked P.E. teacher, even though she had quite bad breath. It was school legend that her breath had once broken a window in the staff room, but only the new kids tended to believe it.

  “Steve Connor.”

  “Here.”

  “Mac Cribbins.”

  “Here.”

  “Louise Dale.”

  “Yep.”

  “Lorna Douglas.”

  “Here.”
<
br />   “And Lisa James…you are late.”

  “Sorry, Miss.”

  “Who is this with you?” asked the teacher.

  “It’s my French exchange student, Miss. Denise.”

  “I wasn’t told anything about this,” said Miss Bresslaw.

  “Oh, were you not? Sorry. I did clear it with Hawtrey.”

  “Mr Hawtrey, Lisa,” chided Miss Bresslaw.

  “Sorry, Mr Hawtrey, the headmaster bloke. I cleared it with him.”

  Miss Bresslaw rose from her chair, and approached the new arrival. As she scrutinised Dennis, she breathed over him slightly. Mmm, that does smell bad, thought Dennis. A sort of mixture of cigarettes, coffee and poo. He held his breath. He could feel himself sweating profusely now. He feared his make-up was going to melt and start collecting in a puddle on the floor. There was silence for a moment. Lisa smiled. Miss Bresslaw smiled back, finally.

  “Well, that’s fine then,” she said. “Denise, please take a seat. Welcome to the school.”

  “Merci beaucoup,” said Dennis. He and Lisa sat down together. Miss Bresslaw continued to read out the register.

  Lisa reached for Dennis’s hand under the desk. She squeezed it softly to say, Don’t worry. Dennis held onto her hand and squeezed it back, just because it felt nice.

  As they made their way down the corridor to Lisa’s history class, Mac huffed and puffed his way to catch up with them. “Hi, girls.”

  “Oh hi, Mac,” said Lisa. “How’s the diet coming along?”

  “Slowly,” said Mac, as he unwrapped a Twix.

  “Bonjour, Denise,” Mac offered nervously.

  “Bonjour again, Mac,” replied Dennis.

  “Ummm…I was just, you’ll probably say no, but if you weren’t doing anything after school with Lisa, I was wondering if you might like to come and get an ice cream or two with me.”

  Dennis looked at Lisa with panic. Lisa took over. “You know what, Mac, Denise and I have already made plans for after school. But I know she’d really love to. Maybe next time she’s over, OK?”

  Mac looked disappointed, but not heartbroken. Dennis was impressed by how tactfully Lisa had turned him down on his behalf.

  “Maybe I’ll see you again later, then,” said Mac. He smiled shyly and overtook them, munching on his Twix and unwrapping a Walnut Whip as he went.

  Lisa waited until he was out of earshot before saying, “He really fancies you.”

  “Oh no!” said Dennis.

  “Don’t worry, it’s cool,” said Lisa. “It’s great, in fact. It must mean you’re very convincing as a girl,” she laughed.

  “That’s not funny.”

  “Yes, it is,” she replied and laughed again.

  ♦

  The first lesson of the day, geography, passed without incident. Though Dennis didn’t think his new-found knowledge of Oxbow lakes would ever be of use in the adult world.

  Unless of course he wanted to be a geography teacher.

  He got away with it in the second lesson too, physics. Magnets and iron filings. Fascinating! Dennis hadn’t understood this subject as a boy, and understood it even less as a girl. He was quickly learning that:

  It was best to remain silent in class,

  Remember to cross your legs when you are wearing a dress, and most importantly,

  Don’t catch the boys’ eyes as you might be more attractive than you thought!

  The bell rang again not a moment too soon. It was break-time.

  “I need to go to the loo,” said Dennis, with a sense of urgency.

  “I do too,” said Lisa. “Let’s go together.” Lisa took Dennis’s hand and they went through the doors of the girls’ toilet.

  And into another world…

  Boys treated the ‘boys’ room’ as a purely functional place. You did what you needed to do, maybe wrote something rude about Mr Hawtrey on the toilet door, and then you left. Inside the girls’ room, it was like a party.

  It was rammed.

  Dozens of girls competed for space around the mirrors, while others chatted to their neighbours in the next cubicles.

  Lisa and Dennis joined a queue for one of the toilets. Dennis wasn’t used to queuing but found that he loved it. Listening to all the girls chatter to each other and then bustle around each other seemed so new. Without the presence of boys, girls seemed to behave so differently. They talked and laughed and shared everything.

  The giggles, the glitter, the glamorous make-up…what a perfect world it was!

  Lisa touched up her lipstick. She was about to put her make-up bag away when she paused.

  “Do you want me to do yours too?” she asked.

  “Oh, yes, please,” said Dennis in his best French accent.

  “Let me see,” said Lisa, reaching into her bag.

  “Maybe we should try a different lipstick colour?”

  “I’ve got a lovely pink one here, Lisa,” chirped one of the girls.

  “I just bought this new eye shadow,” said another. Before Dennis could say anything, all these girls were fussing around him, helping to apply lip liner, foundation, blusher, eye liner, mascara, lipstick…everything.

  Dennis hadn’t been so happy in years. All these girls chatting to him, making him feel special. He was in heaven.

  ∨ The Boy in the Dress ∧

  13

  Double French

  “This is hell,” whispered Dennis.

  “Shush,” said Lisa.

  “You didn’t tell me you had French today.”

  “I forgot.”

  “You forgot?” said Dennis.

  “Shush. And actually, it’s double French.”

  “Double French?”

  “Bonjour, la classe,” said Miss Windsor loudly as she entered. Dennis prayed she wouldn’t recognise him from the detention.

  “Bonjour Mademoiselle Windsor,” said the class in unison. Miss Windsor always started the classes in French. It gave the false impression that the pupils were all fluent French speakers. Suddenly, she spotted the girl in the orange dress and all the make-up. Miss Windsor couldn’t fail to notice her, really. She stood out like a disco-ball in the gloom of the classroom. “Et qui etes-vous?” she enquired. Dennis sat frozen with fear, with a terrible feeling he was about to throw up or pee, or both simultaneously, if that was at all possible.

  Frustrated by the lack of response, Miss Windsor abandoned the French speaking, as she usually had to after the a few seconds of entering the classroom, and continued in English. “Who are you?” she repeated.

  Still Dennis sat in silence.

  Everyone looked at Lisa. She gulped. “She’s my German pen-pal, Miss,” she said.

  “I thought you said she was French,” said Mac innocently, his voice slightly muffled by the Rolo he was chewing.

  “Oh, yes, sorry. French pen-pal. Thanks, Mac,” said Lisa pointedly. She shot him an angry look and he frowned, looking hurt and baffled.

  Miss Windsor’s face instantly glowed with joy. She hadn’t smiled so much since winning her campaign for the school canteen to serve baguettes at lunchtime.

  “Ah, mais soyez la bienvenue! Quel grand plaisir de vous accueillir dans notre humble salle de classe! C’est tout simplement merveilleux! J’ai tant de questions a vous poser. De quelle region de la France venez-vous? Comment sont les ecoles la-bas? Quel est votre passe-temps favori? Que font vos parents dans la vie? S’il-vous-plait, venez au tableau et decrivez votre vie en France pour que nous puissions tous en beneficier. Ces eleves pourraient tirer grand profit d’un entretien avec une vraie Franchise telle que vous! Mais rendez-moi un service, ne me corrigez pas devant eux!”

  Like everyone in the class, and indeed like most people reading this book except for the exceptionally clever or French ones, Dennis had absolutely no idea what Miss Windsor was going on about. I don’t know either – I had to get a friend who had passed their French GCSE to translate it for me. Basically, though, Miss Windsor is delighted to have a real French person in her class and
is asking lots of questions about life in France. I hope so anyway, unless my friend is playing a horrible joke on me and Miss Windsor is talking about her favourite episodes of Spongebob Squarepants or something.

  “Er…oui,” said Dennis, hoping that by simply saying yes, he couldn’t get himself into too much trouble. Unfortunately, Miss Windsor became even more animated, and led Dennis up to the front of the class, still declaiming excitedly in French.

  “Oui, c’est vraiment merveilleux. On devrait faire cela tous les jours! Faire venir des eleves dont le français est la langue maternelle! Ce sont les jours comme celui-ci que je me souviens pourquoi j’ai voulu devenir prof. S’il-vous-plait, racontez-nous vos premieres impressions de l’Angleterre.”

  Dennis stood still in front of everyone. Lisa looked like she wanted to shout out and help, but couldn’t make a sound.

  Dennis felt as if he was underwater or in a dream. He looked out into the eerie stillness of the room. Everyone stared at him. Nothing moved except Mac’s jaw.

  Rolos are extremely chewy.

  “May I speak in English one moment?” asked Dennis in a tentative French accent.

  Miss Windsor looked a little surprised and a lot disappointed. “Yes, of course.”

  “Errrm, ‘ow can I put this, how you say…politely?”

  “Poliment, oui.”

  “Madame Windsor,” continued Dennis, “your French accent is very poor and I am very sorry but I cannot understand anything you are saying.”

  Some of the pupils laughed cruelly. A single tear appeared in Miss Windsor’s eye and rolled down her cheek.

  “Are you all right, Miss? Do you need a tissue?” asked Lisa, before shooting Dennis a furious look.

  “No, no, I’m perfectly fine, thank you, Lisa. I’ve just got something in my eye, that’s all.”

  Miss Windsor stood there swaying like she had been shot, but hadn’t quite fallen to the floor yet. “Um, why don’t you all get on with some private reading. I just need to step outside to get some air for a moment.” She tottered uncertainly out of the classroom, as if the bullet was slowly making its way to her heart. She closed the door behind her. For a moment there was silence. Then from outside the classroom they heard a huge wail. “Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah.” Then silence again.