sorry. Darvesh, you’d be my friend whatever wouldn’t you?”
“Of course.”
“Darvesh! Dennis! Would you boys like some refreshing Lucozade drink?” shouted Darvesh’s mum from the next room.
“No thanks, Mum!” Darvesh shouted back, before sighing loudly. Dennis just smiled.
“It’s a high energy beverage! It’ll get your strength up for the final!” came the insistent reply.
“All right, Mum, maybe later!”
“Good boys! You’ll make me very proud if you win. But you know I’ll still be proud if you don’t.”
“Yes, yes…” said Darvesh. “She’s so embarrassing.”
“It’s only because she loves you,” said Dennis.
Darvesh went silent for a moment so Dennis changed the subject.
“Can I try on your hat thing?” he asked.
“My patka?”
“Yes your patka.”
“Sure, if you really want. I’ve got a spare one here I think,” said Darvesh as he rummaged in his drawer before pulling out another hat. He passed it to Dennis, and Dennis carefully put it on.
“How do I look?” asked Dennis.
“Like a bit of a prat!”
They both laughed loudly. Then Darvesh thought for a moment. “I mean, it doesn’t make you Sikh, does it? On you it’s just a hat. It’s just dressing up, innit?”
Dennis walked home feeling a bit brighter. He’d even laughed at some of the stupid videos they’d found, particularly one of a cat clambering over a baby and putting its bum in the baby’s face.
But when he walked in he saw that Dad was still sitting at the kitchen table where they had left him, with another can of lager but the same cold and soggy chips.
“Hi, Dad,” said Dennis, trying to sound happy to see him.
His dad looked up for a moment, and then sighed heavily.
John had already gone to bed. When Dennis went up, John didn’t even bother saying anything. As they lay there the silence was deafening. There was nothing that could be said. Dennis couldn’t sleep at all, and spent all night watching the curtain edges grow light.
Only one thing stopped him suffocating: thinking about Lisa, the world she had opened up for him, and that sequined orange dress, sparkling and sparkling and sparkling in the sunlight…
8 Lying on the Carpet with Lisa
Lisa held out the orange sequined dress. “I finished it!” she said.
It was the next Saturday and back in Lisa’s bedroom she and Dennis had been poring over every page of the new issue of Vogue, before she surprised him.
The dress was perfect.
“That is the most beautiful thing…” said Dennis, “that I’ve ever seen.”
“Why, thank you, Dennis!” Lisa laughed a little, slightly embarrassed by the weight of the compliment. “Actually, I want you to have it. It’s a present.”
“For me?” asked Dennis.
“Yes, Dennis, you love it so much. You should have it.”
“I couldn’t…”
“Yes, you could.”
She handed him the dress.
“Er, thanks Lisa,” said Dennis, taking it from her. It was heavier than he imagined, and the sequins felt unlike anything he had felt before. It was a work of art. Quite simply the best present he had ever been given. But where would he keep it? He couldn’t exactly hang it next to his anorak in the wardrobe he shared with his brother.
And what was he going to do with it?
“Why don’t you try it on?” said Lisa.
Dennis’s stomach did a flip. He felt how a new companion on Dr Who must feel when they’re about to enter the Tardis for the first time. Now this really was going to be different.
“It’ll be fun,” said Lisa.
Dennis looked at the dress. It would be fun to try it on. “Well… if you’re sure.”
“I’m sure.”
Dennis took a deep breath.
“Just for a moment, though,” he said.
“Yay!”
Dennis started to take off his clothes, then suddenly felt really embarrassed.
“Don’t worry, I won’t look,” said Lisa, closing her eyes.
Dennis undressed down to his socks and pants, and then stepped into the dress and pulled it up over his shoulders. It felt different to wearing his normal boy’s clothes. The fabric felt so unfamiliar next to his skin–all silky and smooth. He reached around for the zip at the back.
“I’m not sure I can…”
“Let me,” said the expert, opening her eyes. “Turn around.” She guided the zip up his back. “It looks great. How does it feel?”
“Nice. It feels nice.” In fact it felt more than nice; it felt wonderful. “Can I see in the mirror?”
“Not yet. We haven’t found the shoes!” Lisa pulled out some stunning high-heeled gold shoes with red soles on the bottom. “I got these in Oxfam. They’re Christian Louboutins, but the old dear in the shop only charged me two quid for them!”
Dennis wondered if Christian Louboutin might ever need them back.
He bent down to put the shoes on. “You’d better take your socks off first,” Lisa said, looking down at his bedraggled grey socks. His big toe poked out of one particularly large hole.
They were rather spoiling the look.
“Oh, yes, of course,” said Dennis, before tugging them off, and placing his feet in the narrow shoes. The heels were quite high and he felt for a second that he might topple over. Lisa held his hand to steady him.
“Now can I look in the mirror?” he asked.
“You
