The World of David Walliams 5 Book Collection. David Walliams

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.

      The doorbell rang, and a few moments later Dennis heard Darvesh’s voice downstairs. Then his dad’s.

      “He’s not allowed out of his room I’m afraid, Darvesh.”

      “But I really need to see him, Mr Sims.”

      “It’s not possible I’m afraid. Not today. And if you see that stupid girl Lisa, who John says put him up to this dressing-up thing, tell her to never show her face again.”

      “Can you tell him I’m still his friend? Whatever’s happened. He’s still my friend. Can you tell him that?”

      “I’m not talking to him at the moment, Darvesh. It’s best you go.”

      Dennis heard the door shut, and then went to the window. He could see Darvesh walking slowly down the drive, his patka getting wet in the rain. Darvesh turned back, and caught sight of Dennis up at his bedroom window. He smiled sadly, giving a little wave. Dennis put his hand up to wave back. Then Darvesh disappeared out of sight.

      Dennis spent the whole day holed up in his room hiding from his dad.

      Just as night fell Dennis heard a quiet tapping on the window. It was Lisa. She was standing on a ladder and trying to talk in as a hushed tone as possible.

      “What do you want?” asked Dennis.

      “I need to speak to you.”

      “I’m not allowed to speak to you anymore.”

      “Just let me in for a minute. Please?”

      Dennis opened the window and Lisa climbed in. He sat back down on the bed.

      “I’m sorry, Dennis. I’m really sorry. I thought it would be fun. I didn’t think it would end up like this.” She put a hand on his shoulder, stroking his hair. No one had stroked Dennis’s hair for years. His mum used to do it every night when she tucked him into bed. Somehow it made him want to cry.

      “It’s ridiculous, isn’t it?” Lisa whispered. “I mean, why are girls allowed to wear dresses and boys aren’t? It doesn’t make any sense!”

      “It’s OK, Lisa.”

      “I mean, expelled? It’s just not fair. Karl Bates didn’t even get expelled for mooning the school inspectors!”

      “And I’m going to miss the football final.”

      “I know, I’m sorry. Look, I never meant all this to happen. It’s just crazy. I’m going to get Hawtrey to have you back at the school.”

      “Lisa…”

      “I am. I don’t know how yet, but I promise.”

      Lisa hugged him and kissed him for a moment just shy of his lips. It was a glorious kiss. How could it be anything but glorious? After all, her mouth was shaped like a kiss. “Dennis, I promise.”

       16 With or Without the Dress

      It wasn’t until the weekend that Dennis was allowed out of the house. Dad had locked the computer away in a cupboard, and Dennis was forbidden to watch the television so he had missed a number of episodes of Trisha.

      Finally, on Saturday morning, Dad relented and Dennis was let out for the day. He wanted to go round to Darvesh’s flat to wish him luck for the final. On the way he stopped off at Raj’s to get something to eat. He only had 13p to spend, as his pocket money had been frozen indefinitely. Raj greeted him as warmly as he always did.

      “Ah, my favourite customer!” exclaimed Raj.

      “Hi, Raj,” said Dennis, mutedly. “Have you got anything for 13p?”

      “Erm, let me think. Half a Chomp bar?”

      Dennis smiled. It was the first time he had smiled in a week.

      “It’s nice to see you smile, Dennis. Lisa told me what happened at school. I am very sorry.”

      “Thanks, Raj.”

      “I must say you had me fooled though! Very good you looked, Denise! Ha ha! But I mean, being expelled for putting on a dress. It’s absurd! You haven’t done anything wrong, Dennis. You mustn’t be made to feel like you have.”

      “Thanks, Raj.”

      “Please help yourself to some free confectionery…”

      “Wow thanks…” Dennis’s eyes lit up.

      “…to the value of 22p.”

      Watching Darvesh pack his football kit for the final was harder than Dennis had imagined. Not being able to play was the worst part of being expelled.

      “I’m gutted you’re not in the team today, Dennis,” said Darvesh as he sniffed his socks to check they were clean. “You’re our star striker.”

      “You guys will be OK,” said Dennis supportively.

      “We don’t stand a chance without you and you know it. That Hawtrey is so evil, expelling you.”

      “Well it’s done now, isn’t it? There’s nothing I can do.”

      “There must be something. It’s so unfair. It’s only dressing up. It doesn’t bother me you know. You’re still Dennis, my mate, with or without the dress.”

      Dennis was really touched, and wanted to hug Darvesh, but being twelve-year-old boys, hugging wasn’t really something they did.

      “Those high heels must have been uncomfortable though!” said Darvesh.

      “They’re murder!” said Dennis, laughing.

      “Here’s your pre-match snack!” said Darvesh’s mum as she entered the room, carrying a tray piled high with food.

      “What’s all this, Mum?” moaned Darvesh.

      “I made you a little masala,