LITMIR.BIZ

       17 Maudlin Street

      Dennis felt sick as the referee’s whistle blew for the start of the game. Pupils, parents and teachers were all grouped excitedly around the pitch. Darvesh’s mum looked like she was going to explode with excitement. She had elbowed her way to the front of the crowd. “Come on, football!” she kept shouting with joyful anticipation.

      Mr Hawtrey was next to Darvesh’s mum. He was sitting on a strange contraption that was half walking-stick and half seat. The fact that the headmaster was the only person sitting made him look very important, even if what he was sitting on looked bum-numbingly uncomfortable. Dennis pulled up the hood on his anorak so that Mr Hawtrey wouldn’t spot him.

      He didn’t even go to the school anymore, and the headmaster still terrified him.

      Dennis was surprised to see Lisa standing in the crowd with Mac. “What are you doing here?” he asked. “I didn’t know you liked football.”

      “Well it is the final,” said Lisa casually. “I just wanted to come and support like everyone else.”

      “I feel a bit embarrassed now, Dennis,” said Mac tentatively. “Asking you out on a date and everything.”

      “Oh, don’t worry Mac,” said Dennis. “I was flattered in a way.”

      “Well, you did look very pretty as a girl,” said Mac.

      Lisa burst out laughing.

      “Prettier than Lisa?” joked Dennis.

      “Oi, watch it you!” said Lisa smiling.

      Out of the corner of his eye Dennis saw Miss Windsor making her way across the pitch to take her place in the crowd.

      “Have you apologised to Miss Windsor yet, Dennis?” asked Lisa, with a tone that suggested she knew the answer already.

      “Erm not yet, Lisa, but I will,” squirmed Dennis.

      “Dennis!” said Lisa sharply.

      “I will.”

      “You did really upset her,” added Mac as he somehow managed to put a whole Caramac into his mouth. “I saw her in Raj’s shop yesterday, and she cried when she saw a bottle of Orangina.”

      “Yeah, all right, I will. I just can’t do it right now, can I? Not with Hawtrey sitting right there,” said Dennis, concealing himself behind Mac’s bulk and turning his attention to the match.

      The opposition was Maudlin Street. They had lifted the trophy every year for the last three years. It was a notoriously rough school, and their team played dirty, going in really hard for tackles, elbowing opponents, even once poking a referee in the eye. Dennis’s school, or rather ex-school, had never won, and all most people were expecting of them was a heroic defeat. Especially now that their best player had been expelled…

      True to form Maudlin Street got off to a strong start, scoring in the first few minutes. One of their team was given the yellow card for administering a Chinese burn to one of the defenders before they scored another goal.

      Then another.

      Darvesh ran up to Gareth. “We don’t stand a chance. We need Dennis!”

      “He’s expelled, Darvesh. Come on, we can win this without him.”

      “No we can’t. And you know it!”

      Gareth ran off after the ball. Another goal from Maudlin Street.

      4-0.

      This was turning into a massacre.

      There was a lull for a moment as Darvesh’s mum and Miss Windsor stretchered off one of the school’s team. One of the Maudlin Street centre forwards had “accidentally” stamped on his leg. Darvesh shouted at Gareth, “Please Gareth. Do something!”

      Gareth sighed and ran over to Mr Hawtrey.

      “What do you want, boy? This is a disaster! You’re bringing shame on the school!” snarled the headmaster.

      “I’m sorry, Sir. But you expelled our best player. We don’t have a chance without Dennis.”

      “That boy is not playing.”

      Gareth’s face fell. “But Sir, we need him.”

      “I’m not having that dress-wearing disgrace of a boy representing the school.”

      “Please Sir…?”

      “Play on, boy,” said Mr Hawtrey, with a dismissive wave of his hand.

      Gareth ran back onto the pitch. Within moments he was lying in agony on the wet grass, after one of Maudlin Street’s forwards booted the ball straight at his groin. The striker then regained possession of the ball and hammered it into the goal.

      5-0.

      “You know you should really let the boy play, Mr Headmaster,” said Darvesh’s mum urgently.

      “I’d be grateful if you minded your own business, madam,” snapped Mr Hawtrey in reply.

      “Come on, Mac,” said Lisa bossily. “I need a hand.”

      “Where are you guys going?” asked Dennis.

      “You’ll see,” replied Lisa with a wink. She marched off across the playing fields with Mac trailing behind.

      The Maudlin Street supporters once again howled with delight. Another goal.

      6-0.

      Dennis closed his eyes. He couldn’t watch anymore.