Doubting Thomas

by Morris Gleitzman

  Thomas saw the expressions on the other kids’ faces.

  Uh-oh, he thought. This isn’t good.

  ‘He can’t help it,’ said Kevin to the others. ‘It’s his nipples. They’re lie-detectors.’

  Karl Lumby, Rocco’s best mate, stepped forward and stood closer to Thomas than a person needed to for normal conversation.

  ‘As if,’ he grunted.

  ‘It’s true,’ said Kevin. ‘Test him. We won’t charge.’

  ‘Lying dobbers,’ growled Karl. ‘You should stick to being a girl, Gulliver.’

  The other kids muttered their agreement. Thomas watched miserably as they trooped over to the monkey bars, throwing him the sort of looks that he’d only ever seen thrown at Holly and Kevin.

  Great, he thought. Now I’ve got out-of-control nipples and an out-of-control mouth.

  ‘Not the best start,’ said Kevin. ‘But at least we got some publicity.’

  ‘Thanks,’ said a voice.

  Thomas turned.

  Holly Maxwell was looking at him with a strange expression.

  ‘Did you really see what happened?’ she said.

  ‘He didn’t have to,’ said Kevin.

  Holly frowned at Thomas.

  ‘So you lied,’ she said.

  ‘No,’ protested Thomas. ‘I didn’t actually see, but I didn’t…’

  ‘You lied,’ said Holly.

  Thomas could see how disappointed she was.

  ‘Watch the lips,’ said Kevin, pointing to his own mouth. ‘He’s got bionic nipples.’

  Holly gave Kevin a look of disgust. ‘At least he’s better at lying than you are,’ she said, and walked away.

  Suddenly Thomas wished he hadn’t told Kevin about his nipples. Now the whole world would hear about them. And soon the whole world would be sneering and laughing. Except for Mum and Dad and Nan, who’d be stressed and upset.

  There was only one thing to do.

  ‘They’ll learn,’ Kevin was saying. ‘They’ll learn that our nipples never lie.’

  Thomas turned to him and took a deep breath.

  ‘Actually,’ he said, ‘my nipples are a lie.’

  Kevin stared at him.

  Thomas felt awful as well as itchy, but he carried on.

  ‘I made the whole thing up,’ he said. ‘To see how good you are. As an undercover cop.’

  Kevin’s mouth was moving, but it took a few moments for sound to come out.

  ‘What… what about the test?’ he said.

  ‘Luck,’ said Thomas.

  Kevin thought about this.

  ‘You mongrel,’ he said bitterly.

  Then he ran after Holly.

  ‘Wait,’ he called to her. ‘I can help you get cleaned up. I’ve got some special undercover forensic paint-remover.’

  Thomas watched them go.

  Oh well, he thought sadly. One good thing about not having any friends, I can scratch my nipples whenever I need to.

  7

  Thomas sat in the beauty salon storeroom, waiting to talk to a nipple expert. Not just a doctor, someone who really knew nipples.

  Please, Gwenda, thought Thomas, hurry up.

  Usually on a Saturday morning Gwenda was in and out of the storeroom all the time. So far today she hadn’t been in once.

  Thomas thought about going out into the salon and speaking to her there. He decided not to. Some conversations were best had in private, specially ones about nipples that were ruining your life.

  Finally Gwenda came into the storeroom.

  Thomas jumped up and closed the door.

  ‘Gwenda,’ he said. ‘Have you ever had a client with itchy nipples who was very worried because he didn’t know what was causing it?’

  Gwenda paused in the middle of reaching for a box of tweezers and thought about this.

  Thomas waited, hoping she would say yes.

  Gwenda did all the waxing of men’s chests in the salon and she was an expert with years of experience in the area.

  ‘Not really,’ said Gwenda. ‘I had one who slammed a nipple in a car door once, but that was more of a bruise than an itch.’

  Thomas sighed.

  ‘Thanks anyway,’ he said.

  Gwenda was peering at the front of his t-shirt, concerned.

  ‘Would you like me to have a look?’ she said.

  ‘No thanks,’ said Thomas hastily. ‘I’m just, you know, curious.’

  Gwenda’s eyes met his.

  ‘Are you asking for a friend?’ she said.

  Thomas nodded and wriggled a bit. He hoped she couldn’t see the truth. That it wasn’t his friend’s nipples which were suddenly feeling like they were being spring-cleaned with a feather duster.

  ‘Has your friend been to the doctor?’ asked Gwenda.

  Thomas nodded.

  ‘Doctors,’ said Gwenda with a sympathetic shake of her head. ‘They don’t know as much as they think they do. What your friend needs is a good moisturiser. Ask your mum to get you one from the chemist. I mean him one.’

  She grabbed a pair of tweezers and hurried back out into the salon.

  ‘Thanks,’ said Thomas, gloomily sitting back down on a cardboard box.

  So much for that idea.

  A short while later, Mum stuck her head into the storeroom.

  ‘Friend here to see you,’ she said.

  Thomas stood up, surprised.

  A friend? He didn’t have any friends. Not since yesterday afternoon.

  Mum gave him a fond smile and went back to Mrs Taylor’s legs.

  Thomas peered out into the salon, and his eyes went wider than the woman in chair three who was having her eyebrows plucked.

  Holly Maxwell?

  What was she doing here?

  For a second, Thomas thought that perhaps she’d come so that Gwenda, who also did nails, could give her a once-over with the nail-polish remover. But that couldn’t be right. Standing there in her jeans and t-shirt, Holly didn’t have a speck of green paint left on her.

  She must have heard I work here on Saturday mornings and just come for a bit of a laugh, thought Thomas sadly.

  He looked around to see if Rocco or any of the others had come too, but they didn’t seem to have. Then he saw that the lady in chair two had reached out and was stroking Holly’s cheek.

  Holly looked shocked.

  Thomas understood why.

  The lady in chair two was wearing a thick green mask of yoghurt-and-seaweed rejuvenating lotion. She looked like an alien with too much make-up.

  ‘You’ve got lovely skin,’ said the green lady to Holly. ‘How do you get it so soft and blemish-free?’

  ‘I’m eleven,’ said Holly. ‘Plus we don’t use commercial skin-products at home. My mum reckons they do more damage than good.’

  All the women in the salon frowned at Holly.

  The green lady’s forehead crinkled.

  Thomas knew he had to move fast. If Holly carried on like this, things could turn ugly. Mum had a hot-wax machine that could cause intense pain, he’d seen it happen.

  ‘G’day Holly,’ he said, hurrying towards her. ‘Would you like to come out the back?’

  He turned and headed to the storeroom, hoping Holly would follow.

  She did.

  ‘Interesting place to work,’ she said once they were inside the storeroom and he’d closed the door. ‘Do you get to shave legs?’

  Thomas felt himself blushing.

  But it was too late. She was here now.

  He pointed to a big plastic tub of eggplantessence foot balm.

  ‘I’m putting this organic skin lotion into bottles for Mum,’ he said. ‘The customers prefer to buy it in small bottles cause they can’t carry a big tub home.’

  Thomas showed her how he scooped the lotion out of the tub in a jug and dribbled it into the bottles.

  ‘Why are you wearing rubber gloves?’ asked Holly. ‘Is that stuff bad for the skin?’

  Thomas felt himself blushing again.

  ‘Don’t
want my hands to go soft,’ he muttered.

  But Holly wasn’t listening. She’d picked up one of the bottles and was studying the label.

  ‘Says here, 100% Natural Ingredients,’ she said. Then she pointed to the lid of the plastic tub. There was tiny printing on it. ‘Says here, Hydroxymethyl Glycinate, Phenoxyethanol and Sodium Hydroxide.’

  Thomas stared. He hadn’t noticed the tiny printing before.

  ‘Bit of a cheat,’ said Holly quietly. ‘Putting lotion made from chemicals into bottles that say natural ingredients. Do your mum’s customers know this is what she does?’

  Thomas glared at Holly. She clearly didn’t know that Mum was the most honest beauty salon owner on the planet. On all the planets.

  ‘All it means,’ he said, ‘is that the bottles are made from natural ingredients and the tubs are made from chemicals. That’s all.’

  That must be it.

  Holly didn’t look convinced.

  Just what you’d expect from the daughter of two journalists, thought Thomas crossly.

  ‘Look,’ he said. ‘I’m busy. What do you want?’

  ‘To say sorry,’ said Holly.

  Thomas stared at her, surprised.

  ‘It was unfair of me, walking off yesterday afternoon,’ she said. ‘I haven’t got a clue how you knew Rocco Fusilli was trying to set me up, and you almost spoiled it with that liar Kevin Abbot, but you were kind and brave. Thanks for standing up for me.’

  Thomas could feel his anger fading. It felt like when his nipples went back to normal, only nicer.

  Holly smiled at him. He’d never seen her smile before, not properly with her eyes. It was the best smile he’d seen in ages.

  He filled a bottle with lotion so she wouldn’t notice how happy he suddenly felt.

  ‘So,’ she said, crinkling her forehead in what Thomas noticed was a much more attractive way than the green lady. ‘How did you know?’

  ‘Know what?’ said Thomas.

  ‘That I didn’t do the graffiti,’ said Holly.

  Thomas thought about how much easier it would be to lie. To say he’d actually seen Rocco throw the paint bomb. To say Kevin had got it wrong about the lie-detector nipples. To make up a story about how everyone in the Gulliver family had good eyesight and could see things even when they were up the other end of the school.

  But he didn’t.

  ‘I’ve got these nipples,’ he said quietly. ‘They go itchy. They tell me when people are lying.’

  For a long time Holly didn’t even look at him.

  She just stared at the lid of the plastic tub, and at the rows of empty organic bottles on the storeroom shelf.

  Even before she spoke, Thomas knew he shouldn’t have told her.

  ‘Look,’ she said finally. ‘I know people give you a hard time, calling you a girl. They call me a goody-goody and a dobber. It sucks. But people won’t want to be your friend if you tell them dumb stories just to try and impress them. Me included.’

  She opened the storeroom door and went out.

  Thomas followed, but Holly was going too fast, striding past the salon chairs towards the street.

  ‘I want skin like hers,’ said the green lady to Mum as Holly hurried past.

  Holly stopped and turned to the green woman.

  ‘I’ve got pimples,’ she said. ‘On my back. And a big scab on this knee.’

  Then she strode out the door.

  ‘Whew,’ said Mum. ‘She’s a character. I didn’t know she was a friend of yours, Thomas.’

  ‘She’s in my class,’ said Thomas miserably. ‘She’s not a friend.’

  The green lady winked at Mum.

  ‘That’s what my Royce reckoned about his girlfriend,’ she said.

  ‘Mum,’ said Thomas. ‘Can I have a word?’

  He turned and went back into the storeroom, hoping Mum would follow.

  She did.

  ‘What is it, love?’ she said once Thomas had closed the door.

  Thomas pointed to the foot lotion bottles.

  ‘These labels say natural ingredients,’ he said. He pointed to the plastic tub. ‘How come the lotion has chemicals in it?’

  He knew Mum would have a simple explanation, but he wanted to know in case a customer ever asked.

  Mum was looking a bit uncomfortable.

  ‘They’re not really chemicals,’ she said. ‘They’re natural ingredients that sound like chemicals.’

  Thomas felt his nipples go feather duster.

  He couldn’t believe it.

  Mum had just lied.

  He stared at her in shock. And then was even more shocked by what she did next.

  Closed her eyes and let her shoulders slump. Sat down on a box and put her head in her hands.

  ‘Mum?’ said Thomas. ‘What’s the matter?’

  Mum took Thomas’s hands and looked up at him with the gloomiest, weariest expression Thomas had ever seen her have, and he’d seen her have a few.

  ‘I shouldn’t have lied to you, love,’ she said. ‘You’re right, that lotion has got chemicals in it. It’s cheaper than the organic stuff and I’m trying to save money. The salon’s going through a bad patch. Not enough customers, too many bills, no profits. When we close up this afternoon, I’m going to have to tell Gwenda I can’t afford to employ her any more.’

  Thomas was stunned.

  Gwenda had worked for Mum for years. This was terrible. No wonder Mum hadn’t wanted to tell Nan the truth about work.

  Mum stood up and gave Thomas a quick hug.

  ‘We’ll pull through,’ she said. ‘I’m going to work harder than I ever have before. In a few months I’ll be able to offer Gwenda her job back.’

  Thomas’s chest felt very strange. He wasn’t sure if it was his nipples telling him Gwenda probably wouldn’t be getting her job back, or just worry about Mum.

  ‘We’ll all have to work harder,’ said Mum, nodding towards the tub of chemical foot lotion.

  ‘OK, Mum,’ said Thomas, grabbing an organic bottle.

  ‘Oh, and love,’ said Mum. ‘Don’t say anything about this to Dad. He’s got his own worries at work. No point making him feel worse.’

  ‘OK,’ said Thomas.

  Mum blew him a sad kiss and went back into the salon.

  Thomas slumped down on the box.

  Poor Mum, he thought.

  He was so glad he hadn’t burdened her with his mystery nipple illness. Blabbing about the foot lotion had been bad enough.

  Thomas sighed.

  He wished he had someone he could talk to about all this stuff. Someone who didn’t have big problems of their own or a weak heart and wouldn’t get too stressed or die.

  Not just a nipple expert, someone wise and experienced in solving the complicated problems of the world.

  8

  Alisha was sprawled on the couch in her bathrobe, reading a magazine and chatting on the phone and sticking a fake tattoo onto her shoulder.

  ‘Garth is so not weak,’ she was saying. ‘He can pick up a supermarket trolley with his teeth.’

  Thomas stood next to the couch, hesitating. Partly because he didn’t want to interrupt and partly because his nipples had just gone very itchy.

  Alisha looked up and saw him.

  ‘Do you mind?’ she said. ‘This is a private conversation.’

  ‘Sorry,’ said Thomas. ‘But there’s something I need to talk to you about.’

  Alisha glared at him.

  ‘It’s a bit urgent,’ said Thomas.

  Alisha sighed. ‘I’ll call you back,’ she said into the phone. She hung up and looked at Thomas crossly. ‘Well?’

  Thomas decided to try and calm her down first.

  ‘That’s a nice tattoo,’ he said.

  ‘Poo or get off the pot,’ said Alisha, even more crossly.

  ‘Those pink flowers,’ stammered Thomas, pointing to the fake tattoo. ‘They’re very nice. And the words are nice too, the ones that say, Ten Dollars A Kilo.’

  Alisha pulled
her bathrobe closed and held up the fingers of one hand.

  ‘Five seconds,’ she said. ‘Four… three…’

  ‘The salon’s going broke,’ blurted Thomas. ‘And Mum’s telling lies about her organic foot lotion.’

  He waited while Alisha took this in.

  She looked at him doubtfully.

  ‘How do you know?’ she said.

  ‘Mum told me,’ he said. ‘But we mustn’t tell Dad.’

  Alisha thought about this, chewing her lip. Thomas knew that meant she was concerned. When she was relaxed she just chewed gum.

  Then she did something that really surprised Thomas. She swung her legs off the couch and patted the cushion next to her.

  ‘Park your bum,’ she said.

  Now Thomas knew she was really concerned. She hadn’t invited him to sit next to her for about eight years.

  ‘Did Mum actually tell you the salon’s going broke?’ said Alisha.

  ‘She didn’t actually say broke,’ admitted Thomas. ‘She said bad patch.’

  Alisha did something else that surprised Thomas. She put her arm round his shoulders and gave him a hug.

  Just a quick one.

  ‘You are a cretin,’ she said. ‘Worrying for nothing. Mum’s really good at the beauty game. The customers love her. All businesses have dodgy patches. I bet it’s not as bad as you think.’

  Thomas hoped she was right.

  ‘So why is she telling lies about her foot lotion?’ he said. ‘The customers think it’s got eggplant in it and it hasn’t.’

  ‘Listen, you idiot,’ said Alisha gently. ‘Everybody lies. It’s how the world is. I tell Garth I’ve lost weight because I want him to think I’m thin. You tell people you’ve got stressed nipples because you want them to think you’re interesting. We all do it.’

  Thomas didn’t know how to reply. He tried to think of a nice way of saying ‘you’re wrong about my nipples’.

  He couldn’t.

  ‘Not everybody lies,’ he said to Alisha. ‘There’s a girl in my class who hasn’t told a lie in her life. And Dad doesn’t lie, except to Nan.’

  Alisha didn’t seem to be listening. She was looking at her magazine again.

  ‘Anyway,’ she said. ‘If Mum’s salon does go broke, it’ll be for a reason. Look, Mum’s horoscope reckons everything happens for a reason.’