LITMIR.BIZ

      Miss Bresslaw rose from her chair, and approached the new arrival. As she scrutinised Dennis, she breathed over him slightly. Mmm, that does smell bad, thought Dennis. A sort of mixture of cigarettes, coffee and poo. He held his breath. He could feel himself sweating profusely now. He feared his make-up was going to melt and start collecting in a puddle on the floor. There was silence for a moment. Lisa smiled. Miss Bresslaw smiled back, finally.

      “Well, that’s fine then,” she said. “Denise, please take a seat. Welcome to the school.”

      “Merci beaucoup,” said Dennis. He and Lisa sat down together. Miss Bresslaw continued to read out the register.

      Lisa reached for Dennis’s hand under the desk. She squeezed it softly to say, Don’t worry. Dennis held onto her hand and squeezed it back, just because it felt nice.

      As they made their way down the corridor to Lisa’s history class, Mac huffed and puffed his way to catch up with them. “Hi, girls.”

      “Oh hi, Mac,” said Lisa. “How’s the diet coming along?”

      “Slowly,” said Mac, as he unwrapped a Twix.

      “Bonjour, Denise,” Mac offered nervously.

      “Bonjour again, Mac,” replied Dennis.

      “Ummm… I was just, you’ll probably say no, but if you weren’t doing anything after school with Lisa, I was wondering if you might like to come and get an ice cream or two with me.”

      Dennis looked at Lisa with panic. Lisa took over. “You know what, Mac, Denise and I have already made plans for after school. But I know she’d really love to. Maybe next time she’s over, OK?”

      Mac looked disappointed, but not heartbroken. Dennis was impressed by how tactfully Lisa had turned him down on his behalf.

      “Maybe I’ll see you again later, then,” said Mac. He smiled shyly and overtook them, munching on his Twix and unwrapping a Walnut Whip as he went.

      Lisa waited until he was out of earshot before saying, “He really fancies you.”

      “Oh no!” said Dennis.

      “Don’t worry, it’s cool,” said Lisa. “It’s great, in fact. It must mean you’re very convincing as a girl,” she laughed.

      “That’s not funny.”

      “Yes, it is,” she replied and laughed again.

      The first lesson of the day, geography, passed without incident. Though Dennis didn’t think his new-found knowledge of Ox-bow lakes would ever be of use in the adult world.

      Unless of course he wanted to be a geography teacher.

      He got away with it in the second lesson too, physics. Magnets and iron filings. Fascinating! Dennis hadn’t understood this subject as a boy, and understood it even less as a girl. He was quickly learning that:

      It was best to remain silent in class,

      Remember to cross your legs when you are wearing a dress, and most importantly,

      Don’t catch the boys’ eyes as you might be more attractive than you thought!

      The bell rang again not a moment too soon. It was break-time.

      “I need to go to the loo,” said Dennis, with a sense of urgency.

      “I do too,” said Lisa. “Let’s go together.” Lisa took Dennis’s hand and they went through the doors of the girls’ toilet.

      And into another world…

      Boys treated the “boys’ room” as a purely functional place. You did what you needed to do, maybe wrote something rude about Mr Hawtrey on the toilet door, and then you left. Inside the girls’ room, it was like a party.

      It was rammed.

      Dozens of girls competed for space around the mirrors, while others chatted to their neighbours in the next cubicles.

      Lisa and Dennis joined a queue for one of the toilets. Dennis wasn’t used to queuing but found that he loved it. Listening to all the girls chatter to each other and then bustle around each other seemed so new. Without the presence of boys, girls seemed to behave so differently. They talked and laughed and shared everything.

      The giggles, the glitter, the glamorous make-up… what a perfect world it was!

      Lisa touched up her lipstick. She was about to put her make-up bag away when she paused.

      “Do you want me to do yours too?” she asked.

      “Oh, yes, please,” said Dennis in his best French accent.

      “Let me see,” said Lisa, reaching into her bag. “Maybe we should try a different lipstick colour?”

      “I’ve got a lovely pink one here, Lisa,” chirped one of the girls.

      “I just bought this new eye shadow,” said another. Before Dennis could say anything, all these girls were fussing around him, helping to apply lip liner, foundation, blusher, eye liner, mascara, lipstick… everything.

      Dennis hadn’t been so happy in years. All these girls chatting to him, making him feel special. He was in heaven.

       13 Double French

      “This is hell,” whispered Dennis.

      “Shush,” said Lisa.

      “You didn’t tell me you had French today.”

      “I forgot.”

      “You forgot?” said Dennis.

      “Shush. And actually, it’s double French.”

      “Double French?”

      “Bonjour, la classe,” said Miss Windsor loudly as she entered. Dennis prayed she wouldn’t recognise him from the detention.

      “Bonjour Mademoiselle Windsor,” said the class in unison. Miss Windsor always started the classes in French. It gave the false impression that the pupils were all fluent French speakers. Suddenly, she spotted the girl in the orange dress and all the make-up. Miss Windsor couldn’t fail to notice her, really. She stood out like a disco-ball in the gloom of the classroom.

      “Et qui êtes-vous?” she enquired. Dennis sat frozen with fear, with a terrible feeling he was about to throw up or pee, or both simultaneously, if that was at all possible.

      Frustrated by the lack of response, Miss Windsor abandoned the French speaking, as she usually had to after the a few seconds of entering the classroom, and continued in English. “Who are you?” she repeated.

      Still Dennis sat in silence.

      Everyone looked at Lisa. She gulped. “She’s my German pen-pal, Miss,” she said.

      “I thought you said she was French,” said Mac innocently, his voice slightly muffled by the Rolo he was chewing.

      “Oh, yes, sorry. French pen-pal. Thanks, Mac,” said Lisa pointedly. She shot him an angry look and he frowned, looking hurt and baffled.

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