“Zarasaidshecanfit us in at two,” Scott said, looking up from his phone.
“We? What do you mean, we?”
“It’s not too noticeable, is it?” Scott asked, blinking until Thomas looked in the right place. His left eye. They were walking side by side through the busy town. Scott kept positioning his hair in front of his eye, only to forget and tuck it behind his ear again thirty seconds later.
“No one is looking at you,” Thomas mumbled.
And it was true.Everyonewas looking at Thomas.
“We’ve got thirty minutes.” Scott looked around. “There’s a café across the road.”
He strode over to the crossing with a reluctant Thomas trailing behind. As they waited, a child in a pushchair leaned over to gawp at Thomas. When Thomas looked back at him, he began wailing and tugging on his mother’s skirt, clearly distressed.
“We can wait to cross somewhere else –”
“It’s fine, Scott. I’m used to it.”
The woman knelt down to console her child, but even when the lights changed, she remained on the other side of the road.
“I think I’ll be in someone’s nightmares tonight.” Thomas smirked.
They crossed over to the other side, and Scott pushed into the café with a bright smile, but it was as if he was invisible. Everybody’s head swivelled towards Thomas. Some quickly looked away from him as if the sight was too much of a shock, but others stared.
“You pick a table, and I’ll order us something,” Scott suggested.
Thomas chose the table in the darkest corner of the café. Scott bought two Cornish pasties, and two cokes, then hurried to join Thomas.
“You’d think people have better things to do than stare at you,” Scott said, loud enough the customers on the neighbouring tables heard.
It didn’t stop them from staring, though.
“I’m used to it,” Thomas said. “Remember, I chose to do this to my body.”
“Still…it’s rude to stare.” Scott took a bite of his pasty, then asked, “Why?”
“Why what?”
“The full-body tattoo.”
“I told you when we were inside. This skin feels more real than my other one ever did.”
“But why a snake?”
“I like them. A lot of people would call them ugly, or hideous, but I think they’re beautiful.”
Scott frowned. “So you did it to look more beautiful?”
“There is nomore. I was an ugly child. An ugly teenager. And ugly in my early twenties. I continue to be ugly, but now I cansay I’m beautiful in a different way. Besides, looking like this has the added advantage of making 90 per cent of people keep their distance.”
“What about the other 10 per cent?”
“They point, shout things, laugh.”
Scott shook his head. “It’s still not nice.”
“Ten per cent with this” – Thomas touched his inked face – “is still better than the 75 per cent who pointed, laughed, shouted, commented, and genuinely made me hate my appearance before I began modifying my body.”
“I bet you weren’t an ugly child.”
