mouth open and he copied her. She rolled the lipstick gently across his lips. It felt weird. Nice, but weird. He never knew lipstick tasted like that–oily and waxy.
“Eye shadow?”
“No I really don’t—” protested Dennis.
“Just a little!”
He closed his eyes as she lightly applied some silver eye shadow with a little brush. “Looking good, Dennis,” she said. “Or should I say Denise!”
“That’s what my brother called me when he found out about the magazine.”
“Well, that’s your girl’s name I suppose. Your name is Dennis, but if you were a girl you’d be called Denise.”
“Can I look in the mirror yet?” he asked.
Lisa adjusted the dress expertly before silently leading him to the mirror on the bedroom wall. Dennis gazed at himself. For a moment he was shocked by what he saw. Then the shock turned to wonder, and he laughed. He felt so happy he wanted to dance. Sometimes you feel things so deeply that words aren’t enough. He started to move around in front of the mirror. Lisa joined in, humming some made-up music.
For a moment they were in their own crazy little musical, before they fell to the floor laughing.
“I guess you like it then?” asked Lisa, still giggling.
“Yes… it’s just a bit…”
“Strange?”
“Yes. A bit strange.”
“You look good, though,” offered Lisa.
“Really?” said Dennis. He was enjoying lying on the carpet with Lisa a little too much and felt embarrassed, so he got up and looked at himself in the mirror again. Lisa followed him.
“Yeah, in fact you look great,” she said. “You know what?”
“What?” asked Dennis eagerly.
“I think you could fool anybody dressed like that. You look just like a girl.”
“Really? Are you sure?” Dennis looked at himself again in the mirror, squinting. He tried to imagine that he was looking at a stranger.
He did look a bit like a girl…
“Yeah,” said Lisa. “I’m sure. You look amazing. Do you want to try on something else?”
“I don’t know if I should,” said Dennis, suddenly self-conscious. “Someone might come in.”
“My mum and dad are at the garden centre. It’s so boring but they love it there! Trust me, they won’t be back for hours.”
“Well, maybe this one then?” said Dennis, displaying a long purple dress that Lisa had copied from one she’d seen Kylie wear at an awards do.
“Nice choice!”
Then he tried on a short red dress that Lisa’s mum had bought for her to wear to a family wedding, then a little yellow puff-ball skirt from the 1980s that her Auntie Sue had passed onto her, then a lovely nautical-themed blue and white striped dress that Lisa had found in Cancer Research.
That afternoon, Dennis ended up trying on everything in Lisa’s wardrobe. Gold shoes, silver shoes, red shoes, green shoes, boots, big handbags, little handbags, clutch-bags, blouses, long flowing skirts, mini-skirts, earrings, bangles, hair scrunchies, fairy wings, even a tiara!
“It’s not fair,” said Dennis. “Girls have got all the best stuff!”
“Rules don’t apply here,” laughed Lisa. “Dennis, you can be whoever you want to be!”
The next morning Dennis was in bed lying perfectly still, but he felt like he was on a rollercoaster. His mind was racing. Dressing up had made him feel like he didn’t have to be boring Dennis living his boring life anymore. I can be whoever I want to be! he thought.
He took a shower. The bathroom was dark green like an avocado. Dennis had never understood why his parents had chosen such a revolting colour for a bathroom. If he had been consulted he would have installed a white antique bath, which he would have complemented with black and white tiles. But being a child, he’d never been asked for his opinion.
To use the shower you needed the precision of a safe cracker. Turn the dial one millimetre to the left or right and the water would go either ice cold or boiling hot. Dennis positioned the dial exactly where it should be so as not to be frozen or scalded to death, and squeezed some Imperial Leather shower gel on his hand. It was what he did every morning. It was part of the grinding routine of his life. Yet somehow the world felt different. Burning with possibilities.
Downstairs in the kitchen, John was eating his toast and chocolate spread and watching the Hollyoaks omnibus.
“Dad gone already?” asked Dennis.
“Yeah, I heard him leave at four. Didn’t the lorry wake you up?”
“No. Don’t think so.”
“He said something about having to be up early to take some cat food to Doncaster.”
Dennis thought how his dad’s life as a lorry driver wasn’t as glamorous as it sounded.
And it didn’t sound that glamorous to begin with.
Dennis poured himself some Rice Krispies, and just as he was about to eat a spoonful the doorbell rang. It was a confident ring, long and loud.
Dennis and John were so curious about who it could be at the door on a Sunday morning that they both rushed to open it. The postman didn’t come on a Sunday, nor indeed in the morning anymore, preferring to do his round at some hour of his choosing in the afternoon.
It wasn’t the postman.
It was Lisa.
“Hi,” she said.
“Er…” said John, now suddenly unable to form words.
Dennis knew John fancied Lisa–he stared at her all the time at school. But then everybody fancied Lisa. She was so utterly gorgeous that probably even the hearts of squirrels missed a beat when she walked by.
“Um, what do you want?” asked John awkwardly, unable to function properly in this close proximity to beauty.
“I’ve come to see Dennis,” she said.
“Oh,”
