LITMIR.BIZ

      “What have I done to deserve this? My son likes wearing dresses!”

      “I don’t, Dad,” said John, eager to score a point. “I’ve never put on a dress, not even as a joke, and I never will.”

      “Thanks, John,” said Dad.

      “That’s OK, Dad. Can I go to the freezer and have a Magnum?”

      “Yes,” said Dad, distracted. “You can have a Magnum.”

      “Thanks, Dad,” said John, glowing with pride as if he had just been given a badge that said “Number One Son” on it.

      “That’s it. No more watching that show Small England or whatever it’s called where those two idiots dress up as ‘laydees’. It’s a bad influence.”

      “Yes, Dad.”

      “Now go to your room and do your homework,” barked Dad.

      “I haven’t got any homework. I’ve been expelled.”

      “Oh, yes.” Dennis’s dad thought for a moment. “Well, just go to your room then.”

      Dennis passed John, who was sitting on the stairs gleefully enjoying his Magnum. He lay on his bed in silence, thinking how everything had been ruined, simply by putting on a dress. Dennis took out the photograph he had saved from the bonfire of him, John and Mum at the beach. It was all he had left now. He gazed at the picture. He would give anything to be on that beach again with ice-cream round his mouth, holding onto his mum’s hand. Maybe if he stared long enough into it he would disappear back into that happy scene.

      But suddenly the picture was torn out of his hands.

      Dad held it up. “What’s this?”

      “It’s just a picture, Dad.”

      “But I burnt them all. I don’t want any reminders of that woman in the house.”

      “I’m sorry, Dad. It just floated out of the bonfire onto a hedge.”

      “Well, now it’s going in the bin, like your magazine.”

      “Please, Dad, don’t! Let me keep it.” Dennis snatched the photograph back.

      “How dare you! Give it to me! NOW!” shouted Dad.

      Dennis had never seen him so angry. He tentatively handed the picture back.

      “Have you got any others?”

      “No, Dad. That was the only one, I promise.”

      “I don’t know what to believe anymore. I blame your mother for all this dressing up business anyway. She was always too soft on you.”

      Dennis was silent. There was nothing more to say. He carried on looking forward. He heard the door slam. An hour went by, or was it a day, or a month, or a year? Dennis wasn’t sure any more. The present was somewhere he didn’t want to be, and he couldn’t see a future.

      His life was over–and he was only twelve.