The Boy in the Dress Page 7

  Mr Hawtrey was next to Darvesh’s mum. He was sitting on a strange contraption that was half walking-stick and half seat. The fact that the headmaster was the only person sitting made him look very important, even if what he was sitting on looked bum-numbingly uncomfortable. Dennis pulled up the hood on his anorak so that Mr Hawtrey wouldn’t spot him.

  He didn’t even go to the school anymore, and the headmaster still terrified him.

  Dennis was surprised to see Lisa standing in the crowd with Mac. “What are you doing here?” he asked. “I didn’t know you liked football.”

  “Well it is the final,” said Lisa casually. “I just wanted to come and support like everyone else.”

  “I feel a bit embarrassed now, Dennis,” said Mac tentatively. “Asking you out on a date and everything.”

  “Oh, don’t worry Mac,” said Dennis. “I was flattered in a way.”

  “Well, you did look very pretty as a girl,” said Mac.

  Lisa burst out laughing.

  “Prettier than Lisa?” joked Dennis.

  “Oi, watch it you!” said Lisa smiling.

  Out of the corner of his eye Dennis saw Miss Windsor making her way across the pitch to take her place in the crowd.

  “Have you apologised to Miss Windsor yet, Dennis?” asked Lisa, with a tone that suggested she knew the answer already.

  “Erm not yet, Lisa, but I will,” squirmed Dennis.

  “Dennis!” said Lisa sharply.

  “I will.”

  “You did really upset her,” added Mac as he somehow managed to put a whole Caramac into his mouth. “I saw her in Raj’s shop yesterday, and she cried when she saw a bottle of Orangina.”

  “Yeah, all right, I will. I just can’t do it right now, can I? Not with Hawtrey sitting right there,” said Dennis, concealing himself behind Mac’s bulk and turning his attention to the match.

  The opposition was Maudlin Street. They had lifted the trophy every year for the last three years. It was a notoriously rough school, and their team played dirty, going in really hard for tackles, elbowing opponents, even once poking a referee in the eye. Dennis’s school, or rather ex-school, had never won, and all most people were expecting of them was a heroic defeat. Especially now that their best player had been expelled…

  True to form Maudlin Street got off to a strong start, scoring in the first few minutes. One of their team was given the yellow card for administering a Chinese burn to one of the defenders before they scored another goal.

  Then another.

  Darvesh ran up to Gareth. “We don’t stand a chance. We need Dennis!”

  “He’s expelled, Darvesh. Come on, we can win this without him.”

  “No we can’t. And you know it!”

  Gareth ran off after the ball. Another goal from Maudlin Street.

  4-0.

  This was turning into a massacre.

  There was a lull for a moment as Darvesh’s mum and Miss Windsor stretchered off one of the school’s team. One of the Maudlin Street centre forwards had ‘accidentally’ stamped on his leg. Darvesh shouted at Gareth, “Please Gareth. Do something!”

  Gareth sighed and ran over to Mr Hawtrey.

  “What do you want, boy? This is a disaster! You’re bringing shame on the school!” snarled the headmaster.

  “I’m sorry, Sir. But you expelled our best player. We don’t have a chance without Dennis.”

  “That boy is not playing.”

  Gareth’s face fell. “But Sir, we need him.”

  “I’m not having that dress-wearing disgrace of a boy representing the school.”

  “Please Sir…?”

  “Play on, boy,” said Mr Hawtrey, with a dismissive wave of his hand.

  Gareth ran back onto the pitch. Within moments he was lying in agony on the wet grass, after one of Maudlin Street’s forwards booted the ball straight at his groin. The striker then regained possession of the ball and hammered it into the goal.

  5-0.

  “You know you should really let the boy play, Mr Headmaster,” said Darvesh’s mum urgently.

  “I’d be grateful if you minded your own business, madam,” snapped Mr Hawtrey in reply.

  “Come on, Mac,” said Lisa bossily. “I need a hand.”

  “Where are you guys going?” asked Dennis.

  “You’ll see,” replied Lisa with a wink. She marched off across the playing fields with Mac trailing behind.

  The Maudlin Street supporters once again howled with delight. Another goal.

  6-0.

  Dennis closed his eyes. He couldn’t watch anymore.

  ∨ The Boy in the Dress ∧

  18

  A Thousand Smiles

  “Where the hell are they?” yelled Mr Hawtrey at no one in particular.

  The second half was about to begin, and Maudlin Street were all waiting on the pitch, eager to finish off their demolition job. The school’s team was nowhere to be seen. Had they run away?

  Then, suddenly, Lisa stepped out of the changing room and held the door open.

  First Gareth ran out wearing a gold lame ball gown…

  Then Darvesh followed in a yellow polka dot frock…

  Then the defenders were right behind in matching red cocktail dresses…

  The rest of the team followed in a variety of outfits from Lisa’s wardrobe…And finally Dennis came out of the dressing room – in a pink bridesmaid’s dress.

  There was a huge cheer from the crowd. Dennis looked at Lisa and smiled. “Go get’em kid!” she said.

  As they ran onto the pitch, Mr Hawtrey bellowed at Gareth.

  “WHAT ON EARTH DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING, BOY?”

  “You expelled Dennis for wearing a dress. But you can’t expel us all, Sir!” he shouted back triumphantly.

  All the boys in the team lined up defiantly behind their captain, striking poses like they were dancers in a Madonna video. The crowd went wild.

  “THIS IS A DISGRACE!” bellowed Mr Hawtrey. He stormed off, angrily brandishing his walking stick/seat thing.

  Gareth smiled at Dennis.

  “Come on boys. Let’s do it!” said Gareth.

  The bemused referee blew his whistle before it fell out of his mouth. Within seconds Dennis had scored a goal. The Maudlin Street team were in shock.

  They were still 6-1 down, but Dennis and his team-mates were back in the game.

  “Woo!” shouted Darvesh, as he hitched up his skirt and weaved round a defender.

  Laughing, Dennis scored again. He was on his way to a hat-trick and he was a hundred times happier than he had ever been. He was doing the two things he loved most at once: playing football and wearing a dress. Then Darvesh scored, sliding across the pitch and adding a large grass stain to his frock as he sneaked the ball past the Maudlin Street goalie.

  6-3.

  “My boy! My boy in the yellow polka-dot dress has scored!” shouted Darvesh’s mum.

  They were on fire. Dennis set up a fantastic cross for Gareth, who just had to tap it into the net.

  6-4.

  Gareth being Gareth celebrated like this goal would be replayed forever on Match of the Day, doing three victory laps of the pitch, and hitching up his gold lame ball gown as he ran. The crowd laughed and cheered. Then another goal followed. And another.

  6-6.

  Now there were only a few more minutes of the game to play.

  One more to go. And they’d have done it.

  “Come on, Dennis,” shouted Lisa. “You can do it!”

  Dennis looked over at her and smiled. It would he really cool if I scored now, he thought, especially in front of Lisa…my future wife.

  But, at that moment, Dennis fell to the ground in pain.

  The crowd gasped.

  One of the Maudlin Street strikers had nobbled him. Kicked him right in the shin when he didn’t even have the ball. Dennis lay there in the mud, holding his leg in agony. The referee had seen nothing.

  “He’s putting it on, ref!” protested the Maud
lin Street boy. The crowd booed.

  Dennis was trying really hard not to cry. He opened his eyes, and his vision swam.

  Lying there, grass pressing into his cheek, he peered up at the crowd. Through the tears he glimpsed a red-checked jacket that looked very familiar…

  And then the red-checked jacket turned into a man…

  And then the man shouted, in a deep voice that was even more familiar.

  “OI! WHAT’S GOING ON HERE?”

  Dad.

  Dennis couldn’t believe it. Dad had never come to see him play for the school before, and now here Dennis was, lying on the ground with tears in his eyes wearing a dress. He was going to be in so much trouble…

  But Dad looked at Dennis and smiled.

  “OI! REF!” he shouted. “That kid kicked my son!”

  Dennis rose to his feet, his leg still glowing with pain but a warm feeling spreading through him. He steadied himself. Then smiled back over at Dad.

  “You OK?” asked Darvesh.

  “Yeah,” said Dennis.

  “COME ON, SON!” shouted Dennis’s dad, really getting into it now. “YOU CAN DO IT!”

  “I called him at half-time,” said Darvesh. “After what you said about your dad never seeing you play in a match, I thought you wouldn’t want him to miss this.”

  “Thanks, mate,” said Dennis. Whenever he thought Darvesh couldn’t surprise him any more, couldn’t be a better friend, he went ahead and did it.

  Gareth tackled the ball of one off one of the Maudlin Street boys. Darvesh ran up the outside, and Gareth passed to him. Maudlin Street charged towards Darvesh and he passed back to Gareth. Gareth panicked for a moment, then passed to Dennis, who weaved straight past the defence before booting it right over the goalie’s head and into the back of the net.

  The keeper didn’t stand a chance.

  6-7!

  The final whistle blew. It was all over.

  “Yyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee eeeeeessssssssssssssssssss!” shouted the crowd. “GGGGGG OOOOOOOONNNNNNN MYYYYY SSSSOOOOONNNNNN!!!” shouted Dennis’s dad.

  Dennis looked over and smiled. For a moment he thought he saw John’s face in the crowd, but he couldn’t be sure as everything seemed to blur in all the excitement. Gareth was first to go up and hug Dennis. Darvesh was next. Within moments they were all hugging excitedly, celebrating their victory. The school had never even got the semis before – and now they’d won the cup!

  Dad couldn’t contain his excitement and ran onto the pitch. He scooped Dennis up into his arms and sat him on his shoulders.

  “This is my son! This is my boy!” shouted Dad, helpless with pride.

  The crowd erupted with cheers again. Dennis smiled a thousand smiles. He looked down at Gareth, Darvesh and the rest of the team all wearing their dresses.

  There’s just one problem, Dennis thought. I don’t feel that different anymore.

  But he kept that thought to himself.

  ∨ The Boy in the Dress ∧

  19

  Dragged in the Mud

  The Maudlin Street team and their supporters stomped off muttering things like ‘fix’, ‘re-match’ and ‘bunch of woofters!’

  Gareth passed the gleaming silver cup to Darvesh to hold.

  The crowd cheered.

  “My son! My son the footballer! And yellow is so your colour!” exclaimed Darvesh’s mum. Darvesh looked over at his mum, and held the cup up to her.

  “This is for you, Mum,” he said.

  She pulled out one of her tissues and wiped a tear from her eye. Darvesh then passed the cup to Dennis. At that moment Mr Hawtrey reappeared.

  “NOT YOU, BOY!”

  “But, Sir?” implored Dennis.

  “You are still expelled from this school.”

  The crowd started booing. Mac took a toffee bon-bon out of his mouth momentarily and joined in. Even Miss Windsor allowed herself a little French revolutionary boo.

  “SILENCE!”

  And there was silence. Even the adults were scared.

  “But I thought…” said Dennis.

  “Whatever you thought, boy, was wrong,” snarled Mr Hawtrey. “Now get off the school premises before I call the police.”

  “But, Sir…”

  “NOW!”

  Dad waded in.

  “You’re a right idiot you,” he said. Mr Hawtrey was taken aback. No one had spoken to him like that before. “My boy just won the cup for your school.”

  “My son Darvesh helped too!” added Darvesh’s mum.

  “Dennis was expelled though,” said Mr Hawtrey with a sickeningly smug smile.

  “You know what? I’ve got a good mind to shove that cup up your whatsit!” said Dad.

  “Oh dear, he’s more embarrassing than me,” muttered Darvesh’s mum.

  “Look, Mr…”

  “Sims. And he’s Dennis Sims. My son, Dennis Sims. Remember that name. He’ll be a famous footballer one day. You mark my words. And I’m his dad, and I couldn’t be prouder. Come on, son, let’s go home,” said Dad, as he took Dennis’s hand, and led him home across the pitch.

  Dennis’s dress dragged in the mud, but he held Dad’s hand tightly, as he sloshed through the puddles.

  ∨ The Boy in the Dress ∧

  20

  Blouse and Skirt

  “I’m sorry there’s mud all over this,” said Dennis as he handed back the bridesmaid dress to Lisa. It was later that afternoon and they were sat on the floor in her bedroom.

  “Dennis, I’m sorry. I tried,” said Lisa.

  “Lisa. You were amazing. Thanks to you I got to play in the final. That’s what really mattered. I guess I just need to find another school that might take me – the boy in the dress.”

  “Maudlin Street maybe?” said Lisa with a smile.

  Dennis laughed. They sat in silence for a moment. “I am going to miss you,” he said.

  “I’m gonna miss you too, Dennis. It’s gonna be sad not seeing you at school, but we can still get together at the weekends can’t we?”

  “I want to. Thank you for everything, Lisa.”

  “What have you got to thank me for? I got you expelled!”

  Dennis paused.

  “Lisa, I want to thank you for opening my eyes.”

  Lisa looked down, shyly. Dennis had never seen her look like that before.

  “Well, thank you, Dennis. That’s the loveliest thing anyone has ever said to me.”

  Dennis smiled, and his confidence grew for a moment.

  “And I have to tell you something, Lisa. Something I’ve wanted to tell you for ages.”

  “Yes?”

  “I am completely, madly…”

  “Completely, madly what?”

  But he just couldn’t say it. Sometimes it’s hard to say the things you feel.

  “I’ll tell you when I’m older.”

  “Promise, Dennis?”

  “I promise.”

  I hope he does. We all have someone who, when we are near them, our heart feels like it is in the sky. But even when you’re a grown-up, sometimes it’s hard to say the things you feel.

  Lisa ran her hands through Dennis’s hair. He shut his eyes, so he could feel it more.

  On the way home, Dennis walked past Raj’s shop. He wasn’t going to stop, but Raj spotted him and came out of the shop to see him.

  “Dennis you look so sad! Come in, come in! What on earth is the matter, young man?”

  Dennis told him what had happened at the football match, and Raj shook his head in disbelief.

  “You know the irony, Dennis?” proclaimed Raj. “Those people who are so quick to judge, be they teachers or politicians or religious leaders or whatever, are normally up to far worse themselves!”

  “Maybe,” murmured Dennis, half-listening.

  “Not maybe, Dennis. It’s true. You know that headmaster of yours, what’s his name?”

  “Mr Hawtrey.”

  “That’s it. Mr Hawtrey. I could swear there’s something strange
going on with him.”

  “Strange?” asked Dennis, intrigued.

  “I don’t know for sure,” continued Raj, “but you see he used to come in here every Sunday morning at 7 o’clock in the morning for his Telegraph. Same time every week, on the dot. And then after a while he stopped coming and his sister came instead. At least, he said it was his sister.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, I can’t put my finger on it, but there’s something very peculiar about that woman.”

  “Really? What?”

  “Come tomorrow at 7am and see for yourself.” Raj tapped his nose. “Now, do you want the other half of that Chomp bar? I can’t seem to shift it.”

  ♦

  “It’s very early for a Sunday,” complained Lisa. “It’s six forty-five. I should be in bed.”

  “I’m sorry,” said Dennis.

  “So Hawtrey’s got a sister. So what?”

  “Well, Raj said there was something funny about her. Look, we’d better hurry up if we want to be there for seven.”

  They quickened their pace along the cold, misty streets. The ground was damp from an overnight storm. No one else was up yet, and the absence of people gave the town an eerie feel. Lisa was of course wearing heels, though Dennis wasn’t on this particular occasion. All that could be heard was the click-clacking of her heels down the street.

  Then, out of the grey mist stepped a very tall woman dressed in black. She entered the shop. Dennis checked his watch.

  Seven o’clock precisely.

  “That must be her,” whispered Dennis. They tiptoed over to the shop window and peered through the glass. This woman was indeed buying a copy of the Sunday Telegraph.

  “So she’s buying a newspaper? So what?” whispered Lisa.

  “Shush,” shushed Dennis. “We haven’t had a proper look at her yet.”

  Raj spotted Dennis and Lisa through the glass and gave them a big wink as the woman turned around. They retreated behind a bin as she made her way out of the shop. Neither Dennis nor Lisa could believe what they saw. If it was Mr Hawtrey’s sister it must have been his twin. She even had a moustache!

  The figure looked about to see no one was around and then hurried down the street. Dennis and Lisa looked at each other and smiled.