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,” said John. He turned to Dennis with a look of hurt and injustice in his eyes, like a dog about to be put down.
“Come in,” said Dennis, loving how much all this was winding John up. “I’m just having breakfast.”
Dennis led Lisa into the kitchen. They sat down.
“Oh, I love Hollyoaks,” said Lisa.
“Yeah, I do too,” said Dennis.
John shot him a look that clearly stated, You filthy liar, you have never previously expressed any interest in the long-running, Chester-based teen soap opera.
Dennis ignored him. “Do you want anything to eat?” he asked Lisa.
“No, I’m fine. I’d love a cup of tea though.”
“Cool,” said Dennis, and put some water in the kettle. John gave him another look. This one clearly said, You never say “cool”. I’m so angry I’m going to have to tear off your head and use it as a football.
“I had fun yesterday,” said Lisa.
“Y—yes,” said Dennis tentatively, not wanting to give too much away in front of his brother. “I had a great time…” He knew he was driving his brother insane with jealousy so added, “…with you.”
“WE ARE MEANT TO BE GOING UP THE PARK TO PLAY FOOTBALL NOW,” said John, trying to put emphasis on every word to sound authoritative, but actually only sounding a bit mad.
“You go ahead. I’m gonna chill with Lisa for a while.” Dennis looked at John and smiled. Lisa smiled too.
They smiled John out of the room.
Lisa and Dennis listened to the door shutting behind him. Lisa laughed excitedly at all the intrigue.
“Well, how do you feel today?” she asked.
“Well… I just feel… great!” said Dennis.
“I’ve had an idea,” said Lisa. “Crazy, but…”
“Go on.”
“Well, you know what I said about how you could fool everyone into thinking you were a girl?”
“Yes…” said Dennis, nervously.
“Well some of the kids at school just had French exchange students staying with them…”
“So?” said Dennis.
“So, I thought… this is crazy but… I thought I could dress you up as a girl and take you to Raj’s and say you were my French pen-pal or something. You wouldn’t have to say much, because you know, you’d be French!”
“No!” said Dennis. He felt the exhilaration and fear of somebody who has just been chosen to assassinate a president.
“It could be fun.”
“Absolutely not.”
“How amazing would it be though? To pass you off as a girl.”
“It’s insane! I go into Raj’s shop every day. He’d know for certain it was me.”
“I bet he wouldn’t,” said Lisa. “I’ve got a wig my mum bought for a fancy dress party. I could put some make-up on you like yesterday. It’d be so much fun–let’s do it today!”
“Today?”
“Yeah, it’s Sunday so there should be less people about. I brought a dress with me, ’cos I was hoping you’d say yes.”
“I don’t know, Lisa. I’ve got a lot of homework to do.”
“I’ve got you a handbag too…”
Ten minutes later Dennis looked at himself in the hall mirror. He was wearing a short, electric-blue dress and holding a silver clutch-bag. It was a party dress, really, not what anyone would wear on a Sunday morning to a newsagent’s shop.
Least of all a twelve-year-old boy.
But having Lisa fuss over him, applying make-up to his face, squeezing his feet into matching silver high-heeled shoes, and styling the wig, had been so much fun he didn’t complain.
“Is Raj really going to believe I’m your French pen-pal?” he asked.
“You look amazing. And it’s all about confidence. If you believe it, everyone else will too.”
“Maybe…”
“Come on, let’s see you walk.”
Dennis trotted up and down the hall, doing his best impression of a catwalk model.
“Mmm, it’s like Bambi taking his first steps,” said Lisa with a laugh.
“Thanks a lot.”
“Sorry, just joking. Look, you’ve got to stand upright in heels like these.”
Dennis copied Lisa’s posture and immediately felt a little more confident in the silver shoes. “I quite like this actually,” he said.
“Yes, it’s a good feeling, being that little bit taller. And it makes your legs look great.”
“Is Denise a French name too?” he asked.
“If you say anything in a French accent it sounds French,” said Lisa.
“De-neeze,” said Dennis, laughing. “Bonjour, je m’appelle De-neeze.”
“Bonjour, Denise. Vous êtes très belle,” said Lisa.
“Merci beaucoup, Mademoiselle Lisa.”
They both laughed.
“Are you ready?” Lisa asked.
“Ready to…?”
“To go outside.”
“No, of course I’m not.”
“But?”
“But I will!”
They both laughed again. Lisa opened the door and Dennis stepped out into the sunshine.
10 Pickled Onion Monster Munch
At first Lisa held Dennis’s hand to steady him. After a few paces the tottering calmed down a little, and Dennis began to walk more easily.
High heels do take a bit of getting used to. Not that I would know, reader. Someone told me.
Soon they arrived at Raj’s shop. Lisa squeezed Dennis’s hand reassuringly. He took a deep breath and they went inside.
“A good morning to you, Miss Lisa,” said Raj, smiling broadly. “I have the new copy of Italian Vogue for you. Oh my word, it’s heavy though! Like a brick! I ordered it in specially for you.”
“Wow, thanks so much, Raj,” said Lisa.
“And who is your new friend?”