let me think. Half a Chomp bar?”
Dennis smiled. It was the first time he had smiled in a week.
“It’s nice to see you smile, Dennis. Lisa told me what happened at school. I am very sorry.”
“Thanks, Raj.”
“I must say you had me fooled though! Very good you looked, Denise! Ha ha! But I mean, being expelled for putting on a dress. It’s absurd! You haven’t done anything wrong, Dennis. You mustn’t be made to feel like you have.”
“Thanks, Raj.”
“Please help yourself to some free confectionery…”
“Wow thanks…” Dennis’s eyes lit up.
“…to the value of 22p.”
Watching Darvesh pack his football kit for the final was harder than Dennis had imagined. Not being able to play was the worst part of being expelled.
“I’m gutted you’re not in the team today, Dennis,” said Darvesh as he sniffed his socks to check they were clean. “You’re our star striker.”
“You guys will be OK,” said Dennis supportively.
“We don’t stand a chance without you and you know it. That Hawtrey is so evil, expelling you.”
“Well it’s done now, isn’t it? There’s nothing I can do.”
“There must be something. It’s so unfair. It’s only dressing up. It doesn’t bother me you know. You’re still Dennis, my mate, with or without the dress.”
Dennis was really touched, and wanted to hug Darvesh, but being twelve-year-old boys, hugging wasn’t really something they did.
“Those high heels must have been uncomfortable though!” said Darvesh.
“They’re murder!” said Dennis, laughing.
“Here’s your pre-match snack!” said Darvesh’s mum as she entered the room, carrying a tray piled high with food.
“What’s all this, Mum?” moaned Darvesh.
“I made you a little masala, some rice, dal, a chapatti, samosas, followed by a Wall’s Vienetta…”
“I can’t eat all this now, Mum! I’ll throw up! The game is in an hour!”
“You need your strength, boy! Doesn’t he, Dennis?”
“Well yes…” Dennis hesitated. “I suppose…”
“You tell him, Dennis, he won’t listen to me! You know I’m so sad you’re not playing today.”
“Thanks, it’s been a horrible week,” replied Dennis.
“You poor boy, expelled just for not wearing the correct school uniform. Darvesh never told me, what exactly were you wearing?”
“Erm, it really doesn’t matter Mum…” said Darvesh. He attempted to hurry her out of his room.
“No, it’s OK,” said Dennis. “I don’t mind her knowing.”
“Knowing what?” asked Darvesh’s mum.
“Well,” Dennis paused, before continuing in a serious tone. “I went to school wearing an orange sequined dress.”
There was silence for a moment.
“Oh, Dennis,” she said. “What a terrible thing to do!”
Dennis paled.
“I mean, orange is really not your colour Dennis,” she continued. “With your light hair you would probably look better in a pastel colour like pink or baby blue.”
“Um… thank you, said Dennis.”
“My pleasure, you can come to me anytime for style advice. Now come on, Darvesh, eat up. I’ll just go and start the car,” she said as she left the room.
“Your mum’s cool,” said Dennis. “I love her!”
“I love her too but she’s nuts!” said Darvesh with a laugh. “So are you going to come and watch the game then? Everyone will be there.”
“I don’t know…”
“I know it will be a bit weird for you, but come with us. It won’t be the same without you. We need you there, Dennis, if only to cheer us on. Please?”
“I don’t know if I should…” said Dennis.
“Please?”
Dennis felt sick as the referee’s whistle blew for the start of the game. Pupils, parents and teachers were all grouped excitedly around the pitch. Darvesh’s mum looked like she was going to explode with excitement. She had elbowed her way to the front of the crowd. “Come on, football!” she kept shouting with joyful anticipation.
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