World's Greatest Liar

by Hutchinson Barry

  My heart raced. What to do? If that picture got out I’d be a laughing stock. There was no way Jodie was going to believe me, so if I wanted to stop her posting my big-nosed selfie everywhere, there was only one thing for it – I had to tell a lie.

  I could do this. I hadn’t lost the knack, this was just a temporary glitch, and with enough concentration and willpower, I could force out a fib. If I didn’t, that terrible selfie would go viral in a matter of minutes.

  I flexed my fingers and took a series of deep breaths. Yes, I could do this. I could do it!

  “All the stuff about the truth-telling machine,” I began.

  Jodie leaned in. “Yes?”

  “It was a l…”

  “A what?”

  “A l… A l…” The word was stuck in my mouth and wouldn’t come out. I could almost feel it wedged in there, somewhere behind my teeth. I threw up my hands in despair. There was no point fighting it. “I can’t do it. It was the truth, OK? The machine really did work.”

  Jodie held up her phone. “Instagram, Beaky. Remember? I’ll tag everyone. Everyone. Is that what you really want?”

  I slumped down on to the step of a shop. “Fine. Do it. I can’t stop you.”

  A shadow passed over me. I looked up to see Jodie staring down. Her eyebrows met as she frowned. “Are you being serious?”

  “Yes. I am. Something weird happened in that box. Everything went all sort of … swooshy, and now I can’t tell a lie,” I said. “Also, the step is making my bum cold.”

  “Too much information,” Jodie said. She kept looking at me for a few moments, deep in thought. Then she held out a hand. “Come on. Let’s go back to the shop and find out what’s going on.”

  We walked for ten minutes, marching down alleys and side streets, retracing our steps over and over again. But no matter how hard we looked, we couldn’t find Madame Shirley’s shop anywhere.

  “Where is it?” I yelped, pulling at my hair as I spun on the spot. “It was around here somewhere. It can’t have just vanished!”

  “I don’t know,” Jodie said, glancing at her watch. “But we’ve been gone for ages. Mum and Dad are going to kill us. We have to get back.”

  “What? No, we can’t. We have to fix me!”

  “I’m sorry, Beaky. We’ve tried, but we have to get back. But look on the bright side,” Jodie said. “You can’t lie any more, which means you’re less likely to get into trouble, and I’m less likely to beat you up. Maybe this is an improvement.”

  I shook my head. “Not for me, it isn’t!”

  Jodie made a weighing motion with her hands. “You. Everyone else in the world.” One hand dropped lower. “Oh, look. Everyone else in the world wins. Now come on, let’s find some fish and chips and get back to the car.”

  “But…”

  “Instagram, Beaky,” Jodie warned. “Don’t make me say it again!”

  Jodie was right, Mum and Dad were pretty unimpressed about how long we’d been gone, in spite of us having tracked down the only fish and chip shop for miles. I knew the situation with Jas and Steve hadn’t improved, because Mum wasn’t even bothering to be cheerful now.

  Normally in situations like these she’d try to jolly everyone along, but she was just sitting in her seat, angrily stuffing chips into her mouth. Dad kept muttering about Max’s behaviour at the park, while crunching noisily on crispy bits of fish batter.

  Max, meanwhile, was sitting on the chewedup seat and shouting at the top of his voice as he violently rocked back and forth. Sophie watched him in her usual eerie silence.

  Up front, Jas and Steve were staring pointedly in opposite directions, eating their fish and chips in silence.

  “Well, looks like our journey home’s going to be unpleasant for everyone,” I announced, clambering into the car. Jodie had managed to make it in ahead of me, and was now sitting in my seat, between Max and Sophie.

  “I was sitting there,” I said.

  “And now you aren’t,” said Jodie.

  I looked to Mum and Dad for help, but they weren’t volunteering any. “Mum, Dad, can Max sit up there with—”

  “No!” they replied in unison.

  I glanced around the car. “Well, where am I supposed to sit?”

  Destructo’s head appeared over the back of the rear seats. He panted happily, dribbling drool over the upholstery.

  I sighed. “You have got to be kidding me.”

  I tried to claim a bad back, but instead confessed that I’d been lying about that the whole time, which earned a loud cry of triumph from Jodie and a “We’ll talk about this later” from Dad.

  For the rest of the journey home I sat squashed in the boot, sharing my now almost cold fish and chips with Destructo. Although, when I say “sharing” I mean that he ate most of it when I wasn’t looking, then spent the rest of the car ride chewing the box.

  Over on the other side of the back seats, Max let out a yelp of disgust. “Ugh, what’s that smell?”

  “That was me,” I confessed. “Fish makes me fart.”

  “Dylan!” Mum snapped.

  “Well, it’s true,” I said.

  “That may be, but nobody wants to hear it.”

  “There’ll be another one brewing in a minute,” I said.

  “Dylan! Cut it out.”

  “Didn’t you know? That’s his new thing now,” I heard Jodie say. “He tells the truth all the time. It’s hilarious.”

  Jodie may have found it funny then, but I had a feeling she wouldn’t be laughing for long…

  When we got home, I waited for everyone to use the bathroom, then I hurried inside and locked the door. I spent the next few hours staring into the mirror and giving myself a motivational pep talk.

  “Lying is easy, Beaky,” I said. “You’re an Olympic-level liar. You could lie in your sleep, you big liar, you!”

  I then spent another hour holding up a toothbrush and trying to say it was a giraffe. I didn’t have much success. It was a toothbrush and I knew it, which meant calling it anything else would be a lie, and even after all my motivational speeches, lying was still proving impossible. The closest I got was “gtoothbrush”, and even that was more by accident than anything else.

  I took out my phone and sent Theo a text:

  Something has happened. I can’t lie any more.

  I sat on the closed toilet lid, waiting for his reply. Theo was a practical sort of guy. He’d have some ideas as to what I could do.

  The phone buzzed. I tapped the screen.

  Liar :) said the reply.

  I tapped the keyboard. It’s true, I wrote, then tried to prove it by adding, I fancy Miss Gavistock from the school canteen.

  I waited for the reply, but before it came there was a soft knock on the door. “Dylan, love?” said Aunt Jas. “Are you on the loo?”

  “No. I can’t comfortably poo with so many people in the house,” I admitted.

  Jas hesitated. “OK. Well, that’s … enlightening, thanks. It’s just that you’ve been in there for hours and Sophie needs to go.”

  I stood up. “Just coming,” I said.

  My phone buzzed and I hurriedly tapped the screen, hoping to find some words of wisdom from Theo. Instead, all he’d written was one word: Weirdo.

  With a sigh, I put the phone in my pocket and made for the door. Before I left, though, I grabbed the toothbrush and held it up to my reflection. “Toothbrush!” I declared, then I sighed and tossed the brush back in the cup. I couldn’t even lie by surprise.

  When I opened the door, Sophie was lurking right outside, which almost made me jump out of my skin.

  “You’re a very creepy child,” I said, sidling past her.

  She sidestepped into the bathroom and kept watching me until the door closed between us.

  Back in the living room, the atmosphere was lighter than I’d expected. Mum and Dad were sitting at the table, drinking tea as they read the newspapers. Steve was on one of the sofas with Max sprawled on his lap, playing games on Steve’s phone
. Aunt Jas sat down beside Steve and for the briefest of brief moments they smiled at one another. It was over in a fraction of a second, but it was the first smile I’d seen pass between them since they’d arrived. Maybe everything was going to be OK, after all.

  Jodie was curled up on Dad’s armchair flicking through Facebook or Instagram or whatever, which left me an entire sofa to myself! I flopped down, then nearly jumped out of my skin for a second time as Sophie appeared beside me. One minute she wasn’t there, the next she was. “Wah! Where did you come from?” I gasped.

  A full minute seemed to pass before Sophie answered. “Bathroom.”

  “Did you teleport?” I asked.

  Another lengthy pause, then, “Nope.”

  I nodded. “Right, then. Good. Good.” I turned to the rest of the family. “So, how is everyone?” I asked, far too enthusiastically.

  “Very well, thank you, Dylan,” said Mum. “You?”

  “Oh, you know,” I began. “Absolutely terrible.”

  “Is it because of the castle?” asked Jas. “It was a bit rubbish.”

  I shook my head. “No, no. Not the castle,” I said. My voice was sounding increasingly high-pitched. I tried to bring it under control, but instead I just made it sound even more desperate. Words tumbled out of me and I got the feeling that even if I’d wanted to stop them, I couldn’t.

  “A weird woman with too many pickled onion crisps put me in a magic box that turned me inside out and did something to my brain,” I explained. “And then she made her shop disappear when no one was looking.”

  Everyone stared. Then, a moment later, they all started to laugh … except for Sophie, who just kept on staring.

  “Oh, Dylan,” said Mum. “What an imagination.”

  “Brilliant,” said Dad, leaping up from his chair. “Let me get my notebook. I might use that.”

  Dad reached under the coffee table and pulled out his notebook. He flipped to the back page and scribbled frantically.

  “What’s that, Dan?” Steve asked.

  Dad held up the notebook proudly. “This little thing? It’s just my novel.”

  “Ooooh,” said Jas. “Check you out, Mr Writer.”

  “It’s not finished,” Dad said.

  “I think they probably figured that out,” I said. “Not many novels come handwritten.”

  Dad ignored me and instead looked at the notebook clutched in his hands. “Would you…? No,” he said, waving a hand dismissively.

  “Would we what?” Jas asked.

  “Nothing, nothing,” said Dad bashfully. “I was just going to ask if you wanted to hear some of it, that’s all.”

  “Well, duh. Yes!” cried Jas.

  “Absolutely not,” I said, but once again everyone ignored me. Not only could I no longer lie, it seemed I had apparently turned invisible. Or inaudible. Or something.

  Dad cleared his throat and flipped to the front of the notebook. He had been working on the book for months. Years, even. He’d told me the plot about six times now and each time it was completely different. This was the first time we were going to hear any of it read out loud, though. Maybe I was being too hard on him. Maybe he’d surprise me and the book would be brilliant.

  “It was a dark and stormy night,” he began.

  Nope. It was going to be rubbish.

  “That’s a terrible opening,” I said.

  Dad peered at me over the top of the notebook.

  “No, it isn’t,” he said. “It’s … what do you call it…?”

  “Atmospheric,” said Mum.

  “Exactly. Thank you, dear. It’s atmospheric,” Dad said. “It’s setting the tone. Now, if you don’t mind?”

  He cleared his throat again, shot me a look that suggested I should probably keep my mouth shut, then began once more.

  “It was a dark and stormy night…”

  It wasn’t easy to follow the story, but I’m not convinced there was even a story to follow, just a lot of sentences one after the other with the occasional pause for dramatic effect. Dad droned on.

  And on.

  And on.

  As he was reading, I glanced around at everyone else. Aside from Max, who was fixated on whatever game he was playing, and Jodie, who was fixated on Facebook, everyone looked completely enthralled by Dad’s reading.

  What was wrong with these people? Even Destructo lay down and seemed to be listening in, although he may also have been asleep. It was hard to tell.

  After a full hour, Dad lowered the notebook and smiled. “That’s a taster. I could go on.”

  “God, don’t!” I yelped.

  Mum shot me a stern look as the others began to applaud. “Give your father a clap,” she said.

  With a sigh, I raised my hands. I tried to applaud, but some invisible force stopped my palms meeting at the very last moment. Mum raised the severity of her glare from “stern” to “angry” and I felt myself begin to sweat under the pressure.

  Saying I enjoyed Dad’s novel would be untrue, and applauding him for it would be just as much of a lie. If I didn’t, though, Mum’s glare would move up from “angry” to “grounded for a week”.

  I had an idea. Frantically, I looked my dad up and down. There had to be something about him worthy of applause. His hair was thinning at the top. He was a bit flabby round the belly and his clothes went out of fashion in the early nineties. Nothing to congratulate him on there.

  His trainers! He had the whitest trainers of anyone I knew. They almost glowed, and I’d always been amazed by how clean he managed to keep them. I focused on the trainers and forced my hands together. This time, they touched! Relieved, I clapped enthusiastically, which made Mum give me a nod and downgrade her glare. Phew. That was a close call. Luckily, I’d been able to pull the wool over everyone’s eyes and…

  Wait.

  Oh, no.

  The words came out all on their own. I tried to stop them, but there was nothing that could be done.

  “I’m clapping for his trainers,” I announced in a loud voice. “Not the novel, because that was terrible. He has very white trainers, though, and that’s the only reason I’m clapping.”

  “Dylan!” Mum barked, and the other applause spluttered and died away.

  A few seconds later, I realized I was still clapping. I stopped and clasped my hands in front of me.

  “Anyone for tea?” I asked.

  “Apologize to your father, Dylan,” Mum said.

  “No, no, wait,” said Dad, holding up a hand. “I’d like to hear Dylan’s thoughts.”

  I shook my head quickly. “No, you wouldn’t.”

  “Yes, I would.”

  “Trust me, you definitely wouldn’t.”

  Dad smiled. “I can take a bit of criticism, Dylan. Don’t worry. Go for it.”

  “OK. You asked for it,” I said. I took a deep breath, then launched into a detailed review of Dad’s book. I tore apart the flimsy characters, the boring writing, the non-existent plot. I ripped into his mixed metaphors, his rambling sentences, and the fact that none of the story – not one thing – made the tiniest bit of sense whatsoever.

  “Oh,” Dad said, but I wasn’t finished.

  “And you’ve got a really boring reading voice,” I added, “which made the whole awful experience ten times worse. I even tried faking a nosebleed at one point, but that stupid machine wouldn’t let me.”

  Slowly Dad sat down, his face an ashen grey. I looked around at the rest of the family. Everyone – even Max – was staring at me in disbelief. I smiled weakly. “Well, he did ask.”

  A well-timed “Just kidding!” here would have helped a lot, but as it would have been a lie, I couldn’t come out with it. Instead, I frantically looked for a way to change the subject.

  I jabbed a thumb in Sophie’s direction. “Does she freak anyone else out, by the way?” I asked. “She reminds me of these twins I saw in a horror movie, once.”

  Mum stood up abruptly. “Right, Dylan, that’s enough.”

  “Yeah,
Beaky, cut it out,” warned Jodie.

  “Well, she does,” I protested. “Dad agrees, don’t you, Dad?”

  Dad looked up from his notebook and shook his head. “What? No, I don’t.”

  “Yes, you do! You said Sophie gave you the heebie-jeebies, and that Max was Satan in a pair of shorts.”

  “Cool!” said Max, grinning. He flicked a bogey at the TV screen as if to help Dad’s case.

  All eyes went to Dad, who shifted awkwardly. “I didn’t say any of that. Dylan’s making it up. Aren’t you, Dylan?” he said, very deliberately.

  I wanted to stop. More than anything, I wanted to stop. I knew every word I uttered was getting me deeper and deeper into trouble, but the truths were like a river flowing out of my mouth.

  “No,” I replied. “You almost choked to death when you found out Aunt Jas was coming, and Jodie said the kids should be in a zoo.”

  Jas’s face went tight. “Oh, really? Is that true, Dan?”

  Steve put a comforting hand on her leg, but Jas pushed it away, angrily.

  “No, Steve, I want to hear what Dan’s problem with me is.”

  “Dan doesn’t have a problem with you,” began Mum.

  Jas scowled. “Shut up, Claire, I want to hear it from Dan.”

  “Don’t you tell me to shut up,” Mum replied, and before I knew it, everyone was on their feet, shouting at one another. Destructo got in on the act by barking loudly and running in circles, knocking over lamps and ornaments with his tail.