Trading Faces

by Julia DeVillers

  But I couldn’t stop. “There are hundreds of nice, normal people in our school, but nooo . . . you have to be in the ‘kewl’ clique.”

  Oops. That was loud. People at other tables were looking at us. The server came with the check. I calculated the tip for us as usual, Dad paid, and we walked out of the restaurant like a happy normal family that doesn’t make scenes in public places.

  Payton and I walked together through the parking lot.

  “So, Emma. If it’s so easy to be popular, then how come everyone isn’t?” she said.

  I wanted to say it was because not everyone wanted to be popular. But I knew that that wasn’t exactly true. I knew that lots of people wished they were in the “in” group.

  “Who cares? I mean, where does being popular get you in life?” I asked.

  “Where? For one thing, the best seats in the classroom, unlike what you got stuck with,” Payton said. “And also to the mall for a fun weekend, and to the best parties, and in the center of everything!”

  “Whatever, Payton.” I dismissed her.

  “Well, where does being a brainiac get you?” Payton asked. “Sure, you get good grades, but you’re stuck studying all the time.”

  “For starters, being a brainiac will get you into a good college—” I replied, but Payton cut me off.

  “If you survive middle school first,” Payton said. “You said it yourself. Your school day stunk. Mine was awesome.”

  “Girls!” my father said. “That’s enough.”

  Payton climbed into the minivan and sat down in the second row. Instead of sitting next to her in my usual seat, I climbed into the third row by myself.

  Payton didn’t turn around.

  I looked out the window as we drove out of the parking lot in silence.

  BRRRZPP!

  I jumped. What was that?

  BRRRZPP! BRRRZPP!

  My pocket was buzzing!

  Oh! It was my cell phone vibrating! My first cell phone call! No, wait, my first cell phone text message!

  I’m so kewl! Brainiacs drool! lol

  That was one good thing about Payton. She never could stay mad.

  I texted back:

  u r so mature

  Payton texted back.

  I know! That’s why I’m wearing TC Couture! T stands for TEEN!

  I texted back:

  & the C stands for Cheaply made since it broke & u had 2 go 2 the janitor’s closet!

  I heard Payton go, “AGH!” And then her face popped over the backseat.

  “You had to bring that up?” she groaned. “I’m trying to block that whole tank-top thing out of my memory!”

  “What was that, honey?” Mom said. “Did you say something?”

  “Erp, no!” Payton called up front. “Nothing!” Her face disappeared again, and my cell phone vibrated.

  ok the strap breakage thing was a bad start but it got better. hope sumthng good happened 2 u?

  I thought back through my day. Well, there was that boy who quizzed me on my schedule. That would be something Payton would like to hear, I guess. I texted:

  I talked to a boy in homeroom.

  She responded:

  u did?!!!! Was he cute???! appeared on my phone.

  Yes & it was 3 whole sentences!

  Go Emma! u rock!

  “I’m so glad you’re enjoying your cell phones, girls,” Mom said cheerfully from the front seat. “I hear your fingers tapping.”

  “Text messaging is not unlimited,” Dad warned. “Use it wisely.”

  At the exact same time, we slipped our phones into their cases. Then Payton’s head popped back over the seat.

  “One day of middle school day down!” she said cheerfully.

  And 184 more to go. And that was just seventh grade.

  Nine

  LUNCH, THURSDAY

  “Hi Payton! Love your shirt!”

  “Thanks!” I said, smiling back at the girl passing me in the hall. I was stopping at my locker to drop off some books before I headed to lunch. I walked right up to my locker. I didn’t even have to remember the number anymore—Sydney had written Luv ya! ♥ on the front in dry-erase marker. It was smudgy, but I was leaving it on there.

  I opened my locker on the first try. Yesterday had been my second day of middle school success, and it looked like today would be lucky too. I clicked the lights in my locker mirror. I looked pretty good today, I thought. I was wearing:

  A yellow baby doll top

  (Summer Slave couture)

  Jeans (also Summer Slave) rolled up

  Headband with a yellow and gray design on it

  (Summer Slave)

  Shoes with a little bit of platform heel

  (Yeah, Summer Slave)

  Bracelet with the P on it (mine!)

  I put on lip gloss and smiled, satisfied. I’d done a pretty good job with the eyebrow tweezing the other night. It was painful, and my right eye had been swollen for an hour, but now my eyebrows were as thin as Emma’s.

  I dug around for my lunch bag behind my books. Emma was bugging me about my locker being disorganized. Like her locker was so amazing. She still hadn’t decorated it at all—and she wouldn’t even give me her locker combination. She said I’d ruin her system. I was determined to get in there somehow and redecorate. I had big plans.

  My cell phone vibrated with a text message. I pulled it out and took a second to admire it. I’d decorated it with pink and silver sparkle sequins in a cute pattern.

  When do u want 2 meet at our lockers? Me

  Hmm. When could I meet Emma at our lockers? I was supposed to meet Sydney at hers before gym, stop by Quinn’s after lunch, and—

  “Payton, Payton.” It was a girl I recognized from science class. “Are you mad at me?”

  “What?” I barely knew her. “Am I mad at you? Um, no . . . ?”

  “Oh, good, because you didn’t say hi to me in the hall before,” she said. “So I thought maybe you were mad at me! I was like, ‘Oh no! What if Sydney is mad at me and she told you guys to blow me off?’ ”

  Oh, I understood. She’d seen Emma in the hall, and of course Emma hadn’t said hi because she didn’t know her.

  “That wasn’t me before; that was my twin—,” I started to explain, but she was heading off to her next class.

  I grabbed my stuff for lunch. A bunch of people said hi to me. Everyone noticed Sydney, of course, and thanks to her, now people were noticing me. In my old school, everyone knew me. But they had known me and Emma—the twins. This school was so huge—not everyone even knew I had a twin!

  Oh! My twin! I’d forgotten to text Emma back. I pulled out my phone and started to, but another text came in—

  P! we r waiting at lunch 4 u!

  It was Sydney. I’d better hurry.

  I walked into the cafeteria, waving at a couple of people as I went by. Then I headed straight for our lunch table. I’d learned to pack lunch—never buy except on pizza-delivered-in day. And never bring in a thermos of soup, either. I’d had to deal with Sydney and Cashmere making fun of my slurping.

  “Oh, good, you’re here,” Sydney said. “We’re planning when to go shopping.”

  “Yay, shopping,” I said, sitting down. Just then my phone rang. It was Emma.

  “That’s your ringtone, Payton?” Sydney said. “That song is so over.”

  “Um, yeah, I know,” I said. “I was planning to change it, but I’ve been so busy—”

  “I’ll download you something that’s more you,” Sydney said, taking my phone and hitting Off. Guess I wasn’t taking that call.

  “Payton, I love your headband,” Quinn said. “It looks really pretty with your hair.”

  “Thanks,” I said, and smiled at her.

  “I just love that store,” Sydney said.

  “Oh, me too,” I said knowingly. “Like when you walk in, it’s so . . . you know.”

  “Exactly,” Sydney said. “Totally.”

  Whew. I had no clue where Ashlynn had gotten this hea
dband.

  “Sydney, I love your shoes,” I said. “So cute.”

  “I know, right?” Sydney said. “I’m thinking about getting them in silver, too, and—hey!”

  A balled-up napkin landed right in front of her.

  “You guys!” Sydney turned around and gave a dirty look to the guys at the table behind us who threw it at her. “They are so immature. Those are the football players, Payton.”

  “But so hot,” Cashmere sighed. “I mean, look at Ox’s muscles. We are so going to win the football game next week with him as quarterback.”

  “He’s hot.” I nodded with everyone and looked at the guy with the biggest muscles; I assumed he was the guy you’d call Ox. He looked back at me, so I gave him a flirty smile. He frowned and turned his back to me.

  Ooookay. That was mildly embarrassing. I hadn’t really gotten the flirty-smile-to-the-guys thing down yet. I had gotten the smiling-and-nodding-with-the-girls thing down, though, and I contributed smiling and nodding to my table’s debate about what to wear the next day. Coordinating outfits with friends? So kewl.

  I unwrapped my turkey wrap and pulled out the lettuce before I ate it. Cashmere had been eating a salad the day before, and Sydney had made her laugh three times so we could all see the lettuce stuck in her teeth before she clued her in. I was taking no chances.

  “I need new shoes,” Sydney said. “Payton can help me pick them out. Doesn’t Payton have the best shoes?”

  “I guess,” Cashmere said. Then her eyes narrowed as she looked at me. “How come you always buy your shoes too big on you, though, Payton?”

  Uh. I didn’t really have an answer to that, since I’d never actually bought any of my shoes. Cashmere was looking at me expectantly. Er. Uh.

  My cell went off.

  “I gotta take that,” I said, relieved.

  “Is that your sister calling you or texting you again?” Sydney groaned. “I mean, I know you’re twins, but she acts like you’re Siamese attached to each other or something.” She reached over and hit the power off button again. Um, this was my phone? I tossed it in my backpack. I’d scroll through “missed calls” later.

  “I can’t believe you have an identical twin,” Quinn said. “That’s so weird.”

  “You know what’s weird is how different they are,” Cashmere said. “Wasn’t your sister wearing sweatpants yesterday?”

  “Um, yeah,” I sighed. “She was.”

  “It must be a little embarrassing,” Sydney said, as she polished her apple. “To have someone who looks like you walking around with such a desperate fashion sense. What if people think she’s you?”

  Sydney recoiled in horror.

  I wanted to defend Emma, but in a way Sydney was right. Emma could be embarrassing. But that didn’t mean Sydney had to say that. Nobody should talk about my sister that way! I opened my mouth to defend Emma.

  But then I closed it. What was I supposed to say? I mean, they were right. How many times had I tried, tried sooo hard, to get Emma to wear something cute? I mean, sweats? Not cute sweats—baggy, don’t fit, don’t care sweats. Once she even wore them with black flats. Now, that was totally embarrassing. What if people had thought that was me? I opened my mouth to agree with Sydney.

  Then I shut it. Emma was my twin, after all! I would stick up for her!

  I opened my mouth to defend Emma again. But not soon enough.

  “So, like, before you were born do you think you sucked up all the genes for fashion, leaving her with none?” Sydney said. “And all the genes for a social life. I mean, no offense or anything, but does she even have any friends?”

  Clang! Clang!

  The bell rang before I could say anything. I hadn’t finished my lunch, but oh well. I’d lost my appetite, anyway.

  Ten

  LUNCH, FRIDAY

  “Emma, it’s so wonderful to see you looking well-balanced,” Jazmine James said. “And your chair is staying upright too.”

  “Gee, thanks,” I said sarcastically. “I’m really starting to get this equilibrium thing down.”

  It was third-period lunch, and I was seated across from Jazmine James. As usual Hector and Tess were with her.

  What was not usual was me actually eating lunch in the cafeteria. On the first day of school I’d walked into the crowded cafeteria, holding my lunch bag. I’d recognized only three faces: Jazmine, Hector, and Tess. They were sitting at a four-person table. I slowed down when I got near them.

  “So sorry, this seat’s saved,” Jazmine said, sliding her backpack onto the empty seat. I sped back up and kept walking, out of the cafeteria, down the hall, and to the school library.

  I was not happy. Don’t get me wrong. I L-O-V-E the library. Books! Reference materials! Internet access! What’s not to love? It’s just that being forced to hide out there during lunch was a little embarrassing. And inconvenient.

  The library media specialist (aka the librarian) greeted me with a friendly smile as I gave her my honors pass. I’d been issued the honors pass along with my class schedule—a privilege for top students. It meant I was eligible for special field trips and certain clubs, and I was allowed to go to the library at any time, as long as I wasn’t skipping class.

  I wasn’t skipping class, but I felt guilty. I wasn’t there to study or to read. I found a study desk in the back and oh-so-inconspicuously ate my lunch. And picked up every crumb afterward to leave no evidence of my breaking the rule about eating in the library.

  Grr. Jazmine James. I’d never broken a school rule in my entire life, and thanks to her I’d done it on the first day of middle school.

  On the second and third days I hadn’t bothered to slow down as I walked through the cafeteria. Unfortunately, it was the only direct way to the library, and I didn’t want to get caught roaming the halls. But even zooming through the lunchroom, I could see Jazmine’s table. And I noticed that there was always an empty seat.

  Today was different. Jazmine surprised me by stopping me as I walked by.

  “Tess’s mother?” Jazmine said. “She met your father at the hospital where she’s a doctor, right? He sold her some medical apparatus. He mentioned you’ve been having a rough time so far at school. So Tess’s mom told us to invite you to sit with us at lunch.”

  I cursed my father in my head.

  “Thanks, but I’m doing fine!” I said brightly.

  Total. Lie. My classes so far had been blah. The teachers were doing basic review to make sure everyone got off to a good start. So even though teachers called on me sometimes, the questions were easy. I’d had no opportunity to be math-mazing or science-sational.

  “My dad must have been talking about my twin sister, Payton,” I continued babbling to Jazmine. “But fine. Sure. I’ll eat lunch with you. To make Tess’s mom happy.”

  Now I had the opportunity to eat at Jazmine James’s lunch table out of pity. Yee-ha. Well, it couldn’t be worse than sneaking food into the library. I was so glad it was Friday. I needed the weekend to figure out how to get myself back on track. My first week of middle school had been an unqualified disaster.

  I opened up my turkey wrap.

  “Hi, Jazmine!” A girl walked by our table.

  Jazmine rolled her eyes.

  “Courtney Jones,” she said. “She’s the one whose hamster escaped at the science fair last year. She was all crying about her poor pet.”

  “That’s terrible!” I said.

  “No, it was excellent,” Jazmine laughed. “She got last place, because how do you do hamsters going through a maze without a hamster?”

  Harsh.

  “She found the hamster later,” Tess reassured me.

  “Did you know Jazmine has the highest IQ in the history of this school?” Hector suddenly announced.

  “Hecky!” Jazmine slapped his arm playfully. “Emma doesn’t want to hear about that! Let’s talk about your solo in the youth symphony.”

  “Hector plays seven instruments,” Tess shared. “He’s a music prodigy.”
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  “He’s also a computer whiz,” Jazmine added. “Which is how he hacked into the school database and got everyone’s IQ scores.”

  “The program wasn’t even protected, and the password was obvious,” Hector said. “That’s not hacking. That’s practically advertising to the public.”

  “Don’t tell me mine!” squealed Tess. “I don’t even want to know!”

  I chewed my turkey wrap and swallowed hard. If I kept eating, maybe nobody would expect me to talk.

  “Okay, I won’t tell you, Tess,” Hector said. “Even though it’s practically the same as mine.”

  “Impressive,” Jazmine cooed.

  Then Hector looked at me. He had beady eyes.

  “The data was updated last year, so your IQ score wasn’t entered, Emma,” Hector said. “What is your IQ?”

  Everyone looked at me. Jazmine’s eyes narrowed.

  “I don’t know,” I said, my eyes down. “My parents won’t let me find out.”

  “Don’t you need to put it in your applications for the gifted programs and challenge competitions?” Jazmine asked me. She had finally recognized my name and told Hector and Tess about my spelling-bee win.

  “Actually, I am dying to know,” I admitted. “My parents have this thing about not telling. Because I have an identical twin sister, and they don’t want us to compare.”

  “It’s so cool you have an identical twin,” said Tess.

  “It must be hard to go up against your own sister in competitions,” Hector said.

  “Payton’s not really into competitions,” I told them.

  “Ohhh,” Jazmine said knowingly. “Is Payton, you know, slow?”

  She leaned closer to me.

  “Before you were born, were you the twin who sucked up most of the brain cells, leaving the other twin without a chance?” (Was that true? Could that happen?)

  “What?!” I said. “NO!” (I’d have to research it on the Journal of Medicine’s website. Maybe Jazmine had scientific knowledge about twins that I’d missed. Oooh, if it was true—poor Payton.)

  “It must be a little embarrassing,” Jazmine went on, “to have someone who looks like you walking around with inferior intelligence. She could ruin your academic reputation. What if she answers a question and people think she’s you?”