The Boy Who Fooled the World

by Lisa Thompson

  Mabel looked at me and grinned. I scowled back.

  “And then Cole hid Mabel’s painting under his bed!” she said, wriggling on Mum’s lap. She pulled the microphone really close to her lips. “Sssshhhh,” she said, into the black foam mic. “It’s a secret.”

  I froze and stared down at my knees as Mabel squirmed in Mum’s arms.

  “Cole?” whispered Dad on my other side. “What’s going on?” I didn’t look at anyone. If I stayed completely still and didn’t make eye contact then perhaps Tasmin would move the conversation on. My heart sank as she pressed her ear, listening to something through her earpiece.

  “Yes, Romesh. This does indeed appear to be a very interesting development happening live here in the Miller household,” said Tasmin, her eyes twinkling.

  The TV screen had changed back to the painting ‘Catch’, but this time they had zoomed in on the little dots that made up the butterflies around the oblong shapes. The ones made by Mabel’s tiny fingers.

  “I believe the viewers at home can now see a close-up of your painting, Cole. And yes, I can see that those little dots appear to be made by some particularly small fingertips. Possibly ones smaller than your own?”

  The camera moved around and then focused in on the tiny portion of handprint that Mabel had accidentally put in one corner.

  “And I think we can see … yes, we can see a handprint right there! An incredibly small handprint … like a toddler’s…”

  Mabel clapped as she saw the close-up on our TV.

  “Mabel’s hand!” she squealed. “Mabel’s hand went SPLODGE and I got all messy! That’s Mabel’s painting!”

  I knew that everyone was staring at me, waiting for me to say something, but I stayed silent.

  “Cole? Mr and Mrs Miller? I’m sure our audience at home would be very interested to hear your comments about this.”

  The black microphone pointed at Mum and then Dad. Both of them had their jaws dangling open.

  In my head it felt like our house was collapsing around us. A scene of absolute devastation. The walls slowly crumbled as a cloud of dust and debris circled the lounge. All that remained was a TV camera, a reporter and a family of four, squashed together on a scruffy sofa.

  I stared at the microphone and then I glanced up at Tasmin. She looked utterly delighted.

  “Come on, Cole,” she said. “Those tiny fingerprints and that handprint weren’t made by you. Were they? In fact, it looks like this painting isn’t yours at all, is it?”

  I stared towards the ground and focused on a thinning patch of carpet. Maybe if I just kept silent they’d give up and cut back to the studio. I waited, but the microphone stayed exactly where it was.

  “Cole?” whispered Mum. “What’s going on?”

  And then Tasmin asked me a question. A question that was about to change everything.

  “Cole Miller, the world is waiting. Who actually is the artist behind ‘Catch’; the painting that has just sold for one hundred thousand pounds?”

  I took a deep breath and gulped. I couldn’t think of a single thing to say that would get me out of this. The game was up.

  “My sister,” I whispered.

  The News is Out

  Everything that happened next was a blur. Tasmin listened to someone in her earpiece and then she turned to the camera;

  “And that’s where we’ll have to leave it now, but as you can see there are very big developments here in the Miller household. Back to Romesh in the studio.”

  The camera went off and the microphone went down. The cameraman and sound woman immediately began to pack up their things. Tasmin crossed her arms. “Well, it looks like you’ve got a lot of explaining to do, doesn’t it?” she said. “We’ll leave you to it.”

  Mum turned to me as Mabel wriggled off her lap. My little sister headed to the hallway and I could hear her padding upstairs.

  “Cole? What did you mean? Why would you say that Mabel did that painting? It was yours!” Mum’s voice was shaking and she was blinking really quickly. I didn’t answer.

  “Come on, Cole. Why did Mabel say the painting was done by her?” said Dad. “Answer us!”

  The TV crew were silently putting away their equipment, but I could tell they were all listening. I stood up and ran upstairs. Mabel was in my room again.

  “What did you do that for? You’ve ruined everything. EVERYTHING,” I yelled at her. She frowned at me, then dived on to the floor near my bed. Mum and Dad burst in.

  “Cole? What’s going on?” said Mum, close to tears.

  “Come on, son. You need to explain yourself!” said Dad.

  Mabel appeared from beneath my bed with the painting of the chair with the wonky legs and tennis ball on the seat. My painting. The painting that I had also titled ‘Catch’ in my head.

  “Here’s Cole’s picture!” said Mabel, tapping at it with her finger. She had a big smile on her face. She had no idea how bad this was going to be for me.

  “That’s Cole’s?” said Mum. Mabel nodded.

  “Mabel’s has gone,” she said sadly. “Hammer went BANG!” She thumped her little fist on the floor, just like the auctioneer’s gavel. There was no question what she was telling us.

  Mum looked a bit sick as she sat down on the bed.

  “Was there a mix-up, Cole? Did the wrong painting end up at the gallery?” said Mum.

  “Of course!” said Dad, relief washing over his face. “Declan must have taken the wrong one. When we got to the auction you were just too embarrassed to say anything. Isn’t that right, Cole?”

  I sat on my bed, my legs pulled up and my chin resting on my knees as I stared at my duvet. Mum crouched down beside me.

  “This is very serious, darling,” she said, putting her hand on my arm. “If this is some kind of misunderstanding then we really need to know so we can explain to everyone that it’s just been a big mistake.”

  My brain was buzzing. I needed more time to think, but they wanted an answer right now. Could I say that somehow the wrong painting was taken that day and I was too worried to say anything when I saw Mabel’s picture on the wall? Like Dad had suggested? I opened my mouth, but the words wouldn’t come. I simply couldn’t lie any more.

  “There was no mix-up,” I said firmly. “I pretended Mabel’s painting was mine.”

  Nobody said anything. All you could hear were Mum and Dad’s mobile phones vibrating on the kitchen counter downstairs. They sounded like giant wasps trapped in a jam jar. For a second, I wondered if I could just make a run for it. Get away to some place where nobody knew me. But where would I go? Dad shuddered into life.

  “Cole? Is that the truth? That you deliberately gave Mabel’s painting to Declan and pretended it was yours? And then…” The words caught in his throat. “And then it sold for a hundred thousand pounds?”

  I nodded, not meeting his eyes. Mum whimpered and put her hand to her face.

  “Do you understand … do you actually understand what you’ve done?” asked Dad. His eyes looked shimmery like he was about to cry. I’d never seen my dad cry before. And it was all because of me.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered.

  “You’re sorry?” he repeated, as if it was the most stupid thing I’d ever said to him. “Cole, you have made a complete laughing stock of us in front of the WHOLE BLOODY WORLD!”

  He shouted so loudly that I flinched and squeezed my eyes shut.

  “Doug, calm down,” said Mum. I opened my eyes again but Mum looked just as angry as Dad did. Downstairs, their mobile phones stopped ringing for a second, and then started up again. Mabel was silent, looking up at me through her long lashes as she sat on the carpet with my painting.

  “I couldn’t do it,” I said, trying not to cry. “I couldn’t do the painting. I tried, Mum, I really did.”

  Mum nodded as she listened. Dad paced around my room, wringing his hands together.

  “I tried so many times. You can ask Mrs Frampton! I went to her classroom every chance I got, but ever
ything I painted just looked awful and Marika didn’t like them.”

  I was hoping that they’d both start to look a bit sympathetic but their faces hadn’t changed.

  “You should have told us you were struggling,” said Dad. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

  Mum shook her head at him.

  “Go on, Cole. Then what happened,” she said.

  “I was looking after Mabel when Dad went shopping and she started playing with my paints. She squirted some on to a canvas and mixed it around with her fingers.”

  I looked at Mabel, who stared down at her hands.

  “At first, I told her off and said she was making a mess, but then I realized that her picture was far better than anything I had done. I took a photo of it and sent it to Declan. I was expecting them to say it wasn’t good enough, but they didn’t. They loved it.”

  I kind of laughed then, hoping they might see a funny side to all of this, but nobody found it amusing.

  “And didn’t you feel in the slightest bit guilty about what you were doing?” said Dad.

  “Yes! But I had to give Marika something or she would have cancelled the auction and we wouldn’t have made any money. And you and Mum were so excited… I just got carried away, I guess. When Declan came to collect it, I gave him Mabel’s picture and pretended it was mine. I even signed it. I had no idea it would sell for that much.”

  Dad looked livid. “So, you’re saying it would have been OK if it had only sold for a thousand pounds? A hundred?” he said.

  “Um. Yes?” I said. At least it wouldn’t have made the news.

  Mum sighed.

  “Cole. The painting was a lie, regardless of how much it sold for. Can’t you see the wrong in that?”

  My throat felt tight as I tried not to cry.

  “But that man was so rich he could afford to buy a painting by a kid for one hundred thousand pounds! He has far more than we have and we need that money. Why does it matter?!”

  I saw a tear roll down Mum’s face and she quickly brushed it away.

  “Because we are better than that, Cole,” she said. “We have never put money before our integrity. I thought you of all people would understand that.”

  I sat and blinked at them both.

  “Now we know the truth I guess we’ll have to go and face everyone. We’ll call Marika’s office and confirm that the painting isn’t yours so they can cancel the sale,” said Dad.

  I swung my legs around the side of my bed.

  “Cancel the sale? B-but the bidder might still want to buy it! It’s a good picture. Art is art, that’s what Marika says! Anyone can make it!” How could they just give in like this?

  Dad rolled his eyes.

  “Don’t you get it, Cole?” he said. “This isn’t us! This family does not tell lies. This family does not put money before our moral values.”

  I glanced at Mum. She looked utterly devastated. She took Mabel’s hand and they both left the room.

  “What a mess you’ve got us into, son,” Dad said, shaking his head as he followed.

  After he’d gone I took a few deep breaths. And then I kicked off my expensive trainers and stuffed them back into their box, throwing them into the corner of my room. I dived on to my bed and lay face down on my pillow.

  It was all over. My secret was out and I’d ruined absolutely everything. I felt a sob building in the back of my throat but the tears wouldn’t come. I’d never seen Mum and Dad look at me like that before: they were so ashamed. I wanted to turn back time to that morning when I took the photograph of Mabel’s painting lying on my floor. If only I had pushed hers back under my bed and taken a picture of mine instead. Even if Marika had rejected it and my art career was over before it had really begun, at least I wouldn’t have been caught lying to the entire world.

  I gulped and let go of the sob, and my shoulders began to shake as I cried. Before long, my pillow was soaked with tears.

  Cole the Gladiator

  When I got to school the next day it became immediately clear that almost everyone had been watching TV last night. I felt like a gladiator entering the ring just at the point the ravenous lions were unleashed. The shouting began as soon as I entered the playground.

  “Here he comes! Cheating Cole!”

  “CHEAT! CHEAT! CHEAT! CHEAT!”

  “Thought you could get away with it, eh, Picasso?”

  “I heard his next painting is actually going to be by his DOG!”

  Everyone laughed at that one. I was about to point out that I didn’t actually own a dog, but then I remembered that answering back was not a great idea. For anyone who hadn’t seen it live on TV, they now had the chance to watch it via YouTube. As I walked through the crowd I could hear Tasmin’s voice coming out of hundreds of phones.

  “Cole Miller, the world is waiting. Who actually is the artist behind ‘Catch’; the painting that has just sold for one hundred thousand pounds?”

  I heard my croaky voiced reply.

  “My sister.”

  There were a few gasps and a lot of fingers pointed at me.

  “Hey! Cheat!” called Leyton. “Go-karting is OFF. OK?” He was standing next to Niall, as usual. They both had their arms folded and tight, smirking smiles on their faces. I didn’t respond. My stomach was tied in knots.

  “Cole! Over here!” It was Isla. She was with Mason in the corner of the playground. I quickly walked over.

  “Hi,” I said, not looking up. I felt all twisted up inside and worried that they were going to say something to make me feel even worse. To be ridiculed by the school bullies was one thing, but if my friends turned their backs on me, that would be unbearable.

  “Are you all right?” said Isla.

  “My parents hate me,” I said, staring at the floor. “I’ve managed to tell the entire world that I lied about my painting, live on TV. I’ve had better days to be honest.”

  “I’m sure they don’t hate you,” said Isla. “They’re just in shock, that’s all. They’ll be fine when the dust has settled.”

  I still couldn’t look at them in case I started crying.

  “What you did was incredibly stupid but … well, we all make mistakes, don’t we?” said Isla.

  I felt my insides relax a little. I could cope with anything if Mason and Isla were on my side. But when I risked a glance at Mason he wouldn’t look at me.

  “And what about you?” I said to him.

  “Um … well…” His face turned pink. “The thing is … um. My mum and dad heard about what, um … what you did and they … don’t want me to be mates with you.”

  “What? Why?!” I said.

  Mason shrugged, scuffing his shoe on the floor. I suddenly felt really, really angry. I knew exactly why.

  “Your parents don’t like me, do they?” I spat my words at him. “I saw their faces when I came to your house for your party. I’m not the kind of person they want as your friend. Someone poor. That’s why I’ve never been invited round before, isn’t it?”

  “That’s not true!” said Mason, but his cheeks went even redder. “It’s nothing to do with you. You saw what they’re like with the house! Remember those stupid covers for our feet? And then you knocked over your blackcurrant juice and—”

  “You knocked it over!” I said.

  “OK, well I knocked it over, but you brought it into the dining room in the first place and that’s a no-no in our house.”

  I was about to argue about it being a ridiculous rule when I saw how mortified Mason looked.

  “It’s not just you, Cole. It’s anyone. They don’t trust anyone to come over in case their precious house gets ruined. They’re hardly ever there anyway so I don’t know what all the fuss is about.”

  His shoulders hung down low. “And now you’ve gone and been an idiot, on national TV, it makes things even worse. They’re just … weird.”

  “I think you’ll find the word you’re looking for is ‘snobbish’,” I said bitterly. There was an awkward silence as the three o
f us just stood there. “Forget it,” I said. “I’ll stay out of your way and then you won’t upset Mummy and Daddy, will you?”

  I glared at him, trying to provoke him but he just looked really sad. He was silent for a moment, his hands clenched by his sides.

  “Do you realize how jealous I am of you?” he suddenly said.

  “Jealous?” I said. “Don’t be stupid. You’ve got everything!” I laughed and looked at Isla, but she wasn’t smiling.

  “OK, so I’ve got a cinema room and a huge garden and I go on posh holidays, but what do you have that I don’t, eh, Cole? What do you have that I would swap for ANYTHING?”

  I shrugged.

  “You have a family,” he said. I frowned. What was he talking about? He had a family too. He carried on. “You have two parents who are actually around to talk to you. Not ones who have to schedule you into their diary. And I’m not joking about that.”

  I didn’t know what to say.

  “Think about it. Your family might not have any money, but concentrate on what you do have, eh?”

  He stared at me for a moment, and then the bell went for registration.

  “Listen,” said Isla. “I reckon we should go back to the museum after school and see if we can solve any more of the painting.” She smiled at us both. “Now you’re not busy, how about it, Cole? Get the three of us back together again?”

  I looked up at Mason who was staring at the floor.

  “OK,” I said. The thought of doing something away from the scandal of my lie on TV felt ideal. There was also the slight possibility that we might actually find some treasure at the end of it. Surely Mum and Dad wouldn’t be angry at me for that? Was this the chance to make up for all my lies?

  “How about you, Mason?” said Isla.

  “Yeah, all right,” he said, swinging his rucksack over his shoulder.

  “Fantastic!” said Isla. “Before we go, I want you to meet me in the drama studio. While you’ve been busy fooling the world, Cole, I think I’ve solved the next clue.”

  She grinned at us and then turned on her heel and headed towards school.

  Mr Taylor Is Very, Very Disappointed