Doubting Thomas Page 3

  ‘Please,’ begged Thomas. ‘Go away.’

  The nipple on the screen stared at him accusingly.

  Thomas realised it was sending him a message.

  You’re very silly, it was saying. Only a silly person would do lie-detector nipple research on this clunky old school computer. You know it’s always breaking down. Now you’re going to get sprung and you’ll be an even bigger joke around here.

  ‘Thomas Gulliver,’ said a girl’s voice from the other side of the library. ‘Do you have a pass to use that computer?’

  Thomas froze.

  Where had that library monitor come from?

  Hastily he propped his folder in front of the computer screen and turned towards the voice.

  And saw, with a sinking heart, who it was.

  Holly Maxwell, the best behaved and least popular and most dobbing kid in the whole year.

  ‘Well, Thomas,’ said Holly. ‘Do you have a pass?’

  ‘Yes,’ mumbled Thomas. ‘But I left it in my bag.’

  He tried not to wince as his nipples went itchy.

  While he was waiting for them to calm down, another figure leaped out from behind a shelf of books.

  Oh no, thought Thomas. Not him as well.

  It was Kevin Abbot. The biggest liar and exaggerator in the whole school.

  ‘I’ve been observing this suspect with my secret undercover skills,’ said Kevin to Holly. ‘Writing down his criminal activity in my mission log. You know, the twitching and sweating and other stuff people do when they haven’t got a library pass.’ He held up a battered exercise book. ‘I haven’t written anything, so I reckon he’s telling the truth.’

  Thomas stared at Kevin in surprise.

  Holly gave Kevin a look too. A brief one of pity and contempt. Then she turned back to Thomas.

  ‘Miss Pearson insists that everyone who uses a computer at lunchtime has to have a library pass,’ she said. ‘It’s to stop kids sneaking in and trying to look at rude websites.’

  ‘I know,’ mumbled Thomas.

  Behind his back he was giving the mouse lots more clicks, desperately trying to make the bosom on the screen vanish.

  ‘My dad’s a law-enforcement officer,’ said Kevin. ‘He reckons the whole global rude-website industry would collapse if it wasn’t for year six boys on school computers.’

  Thomas ignored him and kept clicking.

  ‘You’re not trying to look at rude websites are you Thomas Gulliver?’ said Holly, coming closer.

  ‘No,’ said Thomas weakly.

  He could tell she didn’t believe him. Her eyes had gone narrow. Her lips were tight. Even her short dark curly hair looked like it didn’t believe him.

  Thomas wished he could tell her the truth. That he was just trying to find out about lies and nipples. That all he’d found so far was stuff about girls choosing their first bra and women breastfeeding their babies and health advice for pig farmers.

  But he didn’t dare.

  The whole school was already laughing at him. This would give them even more to laugh at.

  Through the library window, Thomas could see Rocco Fusilli and the other boys out on the oval. Two weeks ago he was out there with them, carefree and happy.

  He wished he was there now. Just a normal kid playing soccer. Instead of a freak with lie-detector nipples.

  ‘I’m not looking at rude stuff,’ Thomas said to Holly. He clicked some more behind his back and tried to ignore the itch attack that was tormenting him. ‘I’m doing research.’

  ‘He is,’ said Kevin. ‘Nipple research. I saw him.’

  Thomas gave Kevin a glare.

  ‘I’m only trying to help,’ muttered Kevin, giving Thomas a glare back.

  Holly reached forward and snatched the folder away and peered at the computer screen.

  Thomas didn’t even turn round to look. He just sagged and felt his face getting hot. With these two dobbers on the case, news of his bosom-peeping would be round the school in about three minutes. He could already see the laughing faces and hear the taunts about him buying bras on the internet.

  ‘Thomas Gulliver,’ said Holly. ‘I didn’t know you were interested in engineering.’

  Thomas stared at her.

  He turned to the computer.

  And stared some more.

  On the screen was a display of small weird-shaped metal objects. At the top of the screen were the words Universal Engineering Supplies – Our Complete Range Of Grease Nipples.

  Thomas pulled himself together.

  ‘Er… that’s right,’ he said, hurriedly reading from the screen. ‘I’m particularly interested in the, er, hydraulic zinc-plated button-head concave type of, um, grease nipple.’

  Kevin was staring at him, open-mouthed.

  Holly wasn’t quite so impressed.

  More sort of amused, Thomas saw, as he felt his own nipples go hydraulic and button-head. For a fleeting moment he even thought he saw a bit of sympathy on her face.

  ‘Thomas,’ said Holly quietly. ‘Here’s some advice. If a person’s worried about turning into a girl, they should probably be researching human nipples instead of mechanical ones.’

  Thomas blushed.

  But, he saw, there was definitely a bit of sympathy. Her hair definitely looked sympathetic.

  Before Thomas could explain that he wasn’t turning into a girl any more, Holly grabbed Kevin and dragged him after her out of the library.

  Thomas waited until his chest and face calmed down. Then he switched off the computer, made sure nobody was watching, and hurried out of the library too.

  What I need, he thought shakily, is a more private type of research.

  It wasn’t easy, staring at your own nipples through a magnifying glass.

  Thomas had to grab handfuls of his chest and make sort of mini-bosoms to see each nipple properly. Which was pretty uncomfortable because he didn’t have that much chest to grab. Plus the light bulb in the boys’ changing room was so dull he had to hunch forward and squint.

  Even so, the nature-excursion magnifying glass from the science cupboard was pretty powerful and Thomas could see more nipple detail than in the bathroom mirror at home.

  His nipples didn’t look spooky, they looked normal.

  Sticky-up bits normal.

  Flat bits normal.

  The left one, noted Thomas, does look a bit darker than the right one, but that could just be the light in here.

  He was tempted to go outside in the sun for better visibility. He decided not to. The rest of the kids were doing gym, and sometimes in the middle of a class Mr Demos the gym teacher popped out for a smoke.

  Hunching over even more, Thomas grabbed a fresh handful of chest and pulled it even closer to the magnifying glass.

  ‘What are you doing?’

  Thomas spun round.

  A kid in gym clothes was standing in the doorway with a handful of tissues pressed to his face.

  Thomas recognised him.

  Why, thought Thomas despairingly. Why, of all the people to be sprung by twice in one day, does it have to be Kevin Big-Mouth Abbot?

  He peered more closely at Kevin’s tissues, which were stained red.

  Was that jam?

  Kevin gingerly pulled the tissues away from his face. Blood dripped from his nose.

  ‘Rocco Fusilli bounced a basketball on my face,’ he said. ‘Mr Demos told me to run my nose under a cold tap.’

  Thomas saw that Kevin was staring again. At the magnifying glass and the bunch of chest Thomas was still holding.

  ‘What are you doing?’ said Kevin.

  Thomas hurriedly let go of his chest. He glanced at the magnifying glass as if it was a thing of no great interest.

  ‘Science experiment,’ he said.

  His nipples exploded into itchiness.

  Despite feeling embarrassed, Thomas couldn’t let this opportunity go to waste. He turned his back to Kevin and examined both nipples through the magnifying glass.

  Nothing.


  His nipples felt like they were being tickled by a million ants wearing fluffy slippers, but they looked as normal as they usually did.

  ‘Are you ill?’ asked Kevin.

  Thomas hesitated while the itching faded.

  It was a question he’d asked himself a million times.

  ‘You don’t have to be embarrassed,’ said Kevin. ‘My dad’s in law-enforcement and he’s met people with really weird and gross illnesses. Nothing shocks me.’

  Thomas knew what Kevin really meant by ‘weird and gross illnesses’.

  People turning into girls.

  Thomas turned back to Kevin, expecting to see smirking. But Kevin’s face had nothing on it but concern and blood.

  Thomas was touched.

  Here was Kevin, nose a disaster area, concerned about somebody else who wasn’t even bleeding.

  Suddenly Thomas was tempted to tell Kevin about the spooky thing that was happening to him. Kevin’s dad just might have seen something similar in a back alley or a stolen car.

  But it was risky.

  Kevin Abbot was the kid in the school most desperate to impress other people with boasting and exaggeration. Telling anything embarrassing to Kevin Abbot was a very big risk.

  Thomas pictured Kevin blabbing and Mum and Dad finding out that their son was possibly the only person in the world with lie-detector nipples.

  The medical tests. The brain examinations. The expense. The worry.

  It could kill Nan.

  Then Thomas remembered something. Kevin hadn’t dobbed him earlier on for not having a library pass.

  ‘Can you keep a secret?’ asked Thomas.

  ‘Yes,’ said Kevin indignantly.

  Thomas’s nipples went seriously itchy. He peered at them through the magnifying glass.

  Still normal.

  ‘Is this something to do with grease nipples?’ asked Kevin.

  Thomas took a risk.

  ‘No,’ he said, pointing to his own nipples. ‘These ones. When people tell lies my nipples go itchy. I don’t know why. It’s like they’re lie-detectors.’

  Kevin stared.

  ‘Is that true?’ he said.

  ‘Yes,’ said Thomas.

  ‘Really?’ said Kevin.

  ‘Yes,’ said Thomas.

  He could see Kevin wasn’t sure whether to believe him.

  ‘Test me,’ said Thomas. ‘Tell me some stuff and I’ll tell you if you’re lying.’

  Kevin thought about this.

  ‘OK,’ he said. He cleared his throat. ‘My mum’s got a mole on her bum.’

  Thomas felt his nipples go fluffy ant. For a second he thought it might be from the effort of trying not to imagine Kevin’s mother’s bum. But it wasn’t.

  ‘Not true,’ he said.

  Kevin looked impressed.

  ‘Do another one,’ said Thomas.

  He hoped it wouldn’t involve any more of Kevin’s family’s body parts.

  Kevin thought for a moment.

  ‘OK,’ he said. ‘My sister Courtney likes eating fish spread and date sandwiches in the bath because she can dip them in the water to soften the dates.’

  Thomas waited for his nipples to go even more fluffy ant.

  They didn’t, the itch started to fade.

  ‘True,’ he said, feeling faintly sick.

  Kevin stared at Thomas’s chest in amazement.

  ‘Wow,’ he said. ‘Lie-detector nipples.’

  ‘You mustn’t tell anyone,’ said Thomas. ‘Not until I find out why this is happening.’

  ‘Complete information lockdown,’ said Kevin.

  Thomas relaxed a bit.

  ‘Not a word to anyone,’ said Kevin peering closely at Thomas’s nipples. ‘Not until we’re millionaires.’

  Thomas stopped relaxing.

  Oh no, he thought. What have I done?

  6

  Thomas hung around after school until the staff room was empty. Then he crept in and put the magnifying glass back into the science cupboard.

  He hurried away down the corridor.

  ‘Thomas.’

  Thomas froze.

  But it wasn’t an after-school-care teacher who leaped out from behind the cardboard Roman chariot from the school play, it was Kevin.

  ‘I’ve been thinking,’ said Kevin. ‘Dad told me once about this American cop. He’s a human lie-detector. He doesn’t use his nipples, he uses his small intestine or something. He’s a millionaire now.’

  Thomas felt his nipples getting itchy.

  ‘Kevin,’ he said as they headed towards the playground, ‘I can tell when people are lying, remember?’

  Kevin looked blank for a moment, then embarrassed. He started walking quickly and talking quickly too. ‘OK, the millionaire bit isn’t true, but that dopey cop could be rich if he got himself a manager. So could you. You could be rich and the most popular kid in this whole school.’

  Thomas was struggling to keep up, both with the walking and the talking.

  ‘How do you mean?’ he said.

  Kevin stopped and gave Thomas an impatient look.

  ‘Every kid wants to know when they’re being lied to,’ he said. ‘We get lied to all the time. Grown-ups tell us lollies will rot our guts. Friends tell us our iPods just sort of broke. Parents tell us babies get delivered by birds. Kids want to know the truth, and they’ll pay for it.’

  ‘Pay for it?’ said Thomas.

  ‘Don’t worry about the money details,’ said Kevin. ‘That’s why you’ve got a manager. Me. Just think popular, and rich.’

  Thomas stared at Kevin.

  He liked the idea of popular, he liked it a lot. But he wasn’t sure about the other part. Should a person with a special power charge money for it?

  Thomas tried to remember if Superman had a manager and a scale of fees.

  He was pretty sure not.

  ‘There’s all sorts of ways we can get rich,’ said Kevin. ‘Liar Liar, for example.’

  Thomas looked at him.

  ‘That game show on telly,’ said Kevin. ‘The one where you have to spot when you’re being lied to. They have really big prizes. We can clean up.’

  ‘I know the show,’ said Thomas.

  He also knew it would be cheating, and fraud, and something that would probably get them both arrested by Kevin’s dad. He tried to point this out to Kevin. But Kevin wasn’t listening. He was staring across the playground, grinning.

  ‘Look at that,’ he said. ‘Miss Pearson’s busting Rocco Fusilli.’

  Thomas saw he was right.

  On the other side of the playground, a group of after-school-care kids were being yelled at by Miss Pearson.

  Kevin was already hurrying closer. Thomas followed, half curious, half guilty. Mum always reckoned telling-offs should be a private thing and Thomas agreed, except when a teacher was really losing it.

  Miss Pearson was really losing it. Some of her hair had come unpinned and her upper arms were pink with anger.

  Thomas could see why.

  Painted on the library wall in big green letters were the words MISS PEARSON LOVES MR DEMOS. Underneath them, faint from where Rocco Fusilli had been made to scrub them off last week, were the words THOMAS GULLIVER IS A GIRL.

  Thomas shuddered at the memory.

  ‘How many times do I have to tell you,’ Miss Pearson was yelling. ‘I don’t mind people expressing their creativity, but this is vandalism.’

  ‘I didn’t do it,’ said Rocco.

  Thomas felt his nipples go itchy.

  Should he say something? He decided not to. Dobbing was a pretty big crime in these parts.

  ‘It was her,’ said Rocco.

  He pointed to a girl at the back of the group. The girl’s clothes and hands and short dark hair were splattered with green paint.

  Thomas’s nipples were itching even more now, and so was his curiosity. Rocco was pointing to Holly Maxwell. If he was lying, which he was, how come Holly had paint all over her?

  ‘Holly Ma
xwell,’ yelled Miss Pearson. ‘Is this true?’

  ‘No,’ said Holly, glaring at Rocco. ‘He threw a paint bomb at me after he’d finished doing the graffiti.’

  Thomas felt his itch starting to fade. Holly was telling the truth. Thomas wasn’t surprised. Holly Maxwell always told the truth.

  ‘I did not throw a paint bomb,’ yelled Rocco.

  Thomas’s nipples went into spasms.

  Rocco wasn’t even a good liar. His voice had gone squeaky. And he’d been boasting for days about how he was going to get Holly. Just because last Friday when Miss Pearson forgot to set a project, Holly reminded her.

  Miss Pearson was staring doubtfully now at the green paint on Holly’s hands and clothes.

  ‘Can anyone else tell me what happened?’ she demanded.

  The other kids stayed silent.

  ‘We didn’t see,’ muttered one.

  The others agreed.

  Thomas knew they were all lying. His nipples were so itchy they felt like they were going to burst through his school shirt and do a dance across the playground.

  He wished he was brave enough to speak up. But only superheroes could get away with dobbing, even if it was for truth and justice.

  ‘OK, Holly,’ said Miss Pearson grimly. ‘Come with me. I’m going to ring your parents.’

  Holly slumped miserably. She glared at the other kids, who looked away.

  Rocco rolled his shoulders and grinned at the other kids, who still looked away.

  Thomas found he was speaking before he had a chance to stop himself.

  ‘Holly’s telling the truth,’ he said.

  Suddenly everyone was looking at him. Holly with surprise. Rocco with fury. Miss Pearson with relief. Kevin with the look of a manager who was losing money.

  ‘Did you see what happened, Thomas?’ asked Miss Pearson.

  Thomas thought fast. He mustn’t look like he was just trying to get revenge on Rocco. He had to find a way of telling the truth without lying. Best to stick to what his nipples knew to be true.

  ‘Rocco did throw a paint bomb at Holly,’ he said.

  Miss Pearson looked at Thomas. He could see she was trying to decide whether to trust him.

  ‘It’s true,’ said Kevin. ‘We both saw it.’

  Thomas tried not to wince as his nipples went into even bigger spasms.

  ‘You mongrels,’ hissed Rocco, and several other things that Thomas couldn’t hear because Miss Pearson grabbed Rocco and steered him firmly and swiftly towards the staff room.