Then Tess looked at Jazmine. Jazmine looked at Tess. Jazmine had a scowl on her face. Tess didn’t flinch.
“Oooh!” Hector said. “A showdown! Let the drama begin!”
“Did someone say drama?” a loud voice boomed, making us all jump.
Mrs. Burkle!
“If there’s drama around, I want it for the next edition of VOGS!” Mrs. Burkle said. “We need to keep our audience interested. Keep up the excitement level after today’s compelling show!”
Mrs. Burkle looked at Emma and me.
“I have an idea for next week for you two,” she said to me and Emma. “You can do a special report together, and—”
“Excuse me,” Jazmine said, in her sucking-up-to-teacher voice. “I don’t mean to be disrespectful, but as Payton is not an honors student, she’s ineligible to be involved with VOGS.”
I felt my face get red.
“What? Who makes these rules? That is outrageous!” Mrs. Burkle shouted. “Wait! I make these rules! Thus, I can change them! VOGS will now be open to all students. I will hold auditions to find the best dramatic talent!”
Really?
“Payton, consider your show today an audition!” Mrs. Burkle said. “And you have made it. Congratulations.”
“Really?” I said. “Oh, my gosh. That’s so cool!”
“What?” Jazmine said. “You’re opening it up to anyone? It should be exclusive!”
“We will exclude some persons!” said Mrs. Burkle. “Attitude will be considered during auditions. We will see if you can check yours at the audition, Ms. James.”
“What?” Jazmine said. “I have to audition?”
“Look for the sign-up sheet,” Mrs. Burkle said.
Jazmine stomped away.
“Hector! Tess! History Club, now!” Jazmine said as she left. Then we heard her say, “Hector, stop laughing. It’s not funny.” The three walked away.
My cell phone went off.
i think i’ll try out 2. Maybe u can help me practice? U r really good. xo Tess
I smiled.
“Well, let’s go,” I said.
“Did you see the look on Jazmine’s face when Mrs. Burkle told her she had to audition?” Emma said. “Ha! That was classic. But that Tess seems nice. Wonder why she’s always hanging around with Jazmine?”
“Maybe she didn’t know she could make other friends,” I said. But maybe she could now. Like me. Hee. I smiled.
And then my smile froze.
“Pay-EMMA! I mean, EMMA!” someone yelled down the hallway.
It was Ox.
I watched Emma’s face turn purple, then an odd shade of white.
“Excuse me,” I said quietly. I walked over to the other side of the hall to give them some privacy. Okay, no—actually, I still spied on them.
“I am so sorry—” Emma started to say, but Ox cut her off.
“Where have you been all day?” Ox said. “I was looking for you.”
“Er, oh,” Emma said. “Actually, whenever I saw you, I fled.”
“Don’t you think I deserved an explanation?” Ox asked her.
“I know, I know—I’m so sorry,” Emma said. “I was so un-ox-like. I wasn’t dependable or trustworthy, and not being honest with you was wrong. An ox is intelligent, and what I did was just dumb. So . . . I’m sorry.”
Hello? What is Emma doing? I was about to break in and rescue her from geekiness, when I heard something unexpected.
Ox laughed.
“That was the most interesting apology I’ve ever heard,” Ox said. “You are not exactly normal, you know.”
We know, we know.
“I know,” Emma said miserably. “That’s why I wanted to switch with Payton. She’s more normal and popular and all that. I wanted to see what it was like. But I can’t be Miss Popularity or Miss Fashion-Obsessed. I just have to be myself.”
“That’s a relief,” Ox said.
“It is?” Emma asked.
“Yeah. I’ve spent years trying to avoid Sydney and all those popular girls,” Ox said. “Their conversations give me a headache. I’d rather not avoid you, too. So don’t turn into that.”
Ooooh! Oooooh!
I tried to send Emma twin ESP messages. He likes you! Don’t just turn purple! Say something!!!
“I won’t,” Emma squeaked.
Yes! YEEESS! Go, Emma! Go, Emma!
“Good,” Ox said. “Because I’d like to get to know Emma. Not the Emma-Payton hybrid. Just the real Emma.”
Eeeee! He wanted to get to know Emma better! What would happen next? Maybe they would . . .
KISS!!!
I held my breath and waited in suspense. . . .
“Speaking of hybrids,” Emma said, “did you know there are several kinds of bovine hybrids? For example, a yakow is a cross between a cow and a yak.”
Uh.
That wasn’t a kiss! Emma? What the heck are you doing?
“Yeah!” Ox said. “And a cross between a bison and a cow is a beefalo. And heh, have you ever heard of a zeedonk?”
“A zebra and a donkey!” Emma cried.
Oh. My.
I guess this was a perfect match.
Clang! The after-school warning bell!
Well, I hated to break up this romantic conversation, but . . .
“Ahem,” I said as I started down the hall. “Emma. We’d better get to detention.”
“Oh!” Emma snapped out of it. “Yes! Detention! Great!”
Oooh, boy. She had it bad.
“Yeah, I’ve got to go to pootball fractice,” he said. “I mean—football practice!”
Hee! Ox was all flustered too!
“So I’ll see you . . . ,” Emma said. “Well, I guess I won’t see you at lunch anymore.”
“Not unless you guys are planning more switching,” Ox said.
“NO!” we both said.
“Then maybe I can see you at the football game Friday night, Emma,” Ox said. “And afterward we all go out for pizza. Want to come with me?”
Emma nodded, but then . . .
“Oh, no—I’m grounded. But I’ll talk to my parents. They’re pretty cool, once they calm down.”
“Well, if you can’t get out, maybe we could have a phone date?” Ox asked. “After the game?”
“Okay!” Emma said.
Ox took off down the hall.
“Hey, Ox,” Emma called out to him. He turned around.
“Go, Geckos!” she said. I saw him laugh.
Emma walked casually over to me. As soon as Ox disappeared around the corner, we screamed and jumped all around.
AHHHH!!! EEEEEEEEEEeeeee!
“Emma and Ox! Sitting in a tree!” I sang. “Talking about H-I-B-R-I-D-S!”
“Actually, it’s spelled H-Y-B-R-I-D-S,” Emma said. “And hey! Were you spying on us?”
Oopsie.
“Maybe,” I confessed. “Okay, yes.”
“Well, at least you’re honest about it,” Emma said.
“I’m only going to be honest from now on,” I pledged, “including about who I am. I’m Payton.”
“And I’m Emma,” Emma said. “We’re never switching again!”
“That’s right!” I agreed.
Emma and I held out our hands to do a TWIN-ky swear. But I didn’t link pinkies.
“A TWIN-ky swear might be a little too . . . well . . . ,” I said. “I mean, we can never, ever break a TWIN-ky swear.”
“Yeah,” Emma said. “It might be a little extreme to swear it off forever. Not that we’re ever going to trade places again, right?”
“Never! Ever!” I said.
And we meant it. Then. But stuff happens, right? I guess you should never say never.
Top 10 Stupid Twin Questions People Ask
Answers by Payton and Emma
10. Are you two twins?
Payton: Yes. (Duh, we look exactly alike.)
Emma: Actually, we’re clones.
9. Why aren’t you dressed alike?
P: B
ecause . . . I have style? (Sorry, Emma. Kidding!)
E: I have more important things to think about besides clothes. (Sorry, Payton!)
8. Do you talk in a secret twin language?
P: Secret language? I can’t understand Emma when she speaks English! My parents will be happy to tell you that she has a near-genius IQ. She’s like a walking dictionary.
E: Ha. She can barely speak one language correctly. She thinks “yeesh” and “ew” are the most important words in the English language.
7. Do you ever switch places on your boyfriends?
P: Um, first we’d actually have to have boyfriends. Maybe this year? Please please please let me get a boyfriend this year! I think it’s going to be a while for Emma. She turns purple and panics when she has to talk to a boy.
E: I do NOT! It’s just that . . . I don’t have time for a boyfriend. Yes, that’s it. I’m too busy for boys. I’m going to sign up for Super Scientists Club, mathletics, school newspaper, piano, and Scrabble-lympics.
6. Do you ever forget which one you are?
P: Ew, no. Yeesh!
E: I don’t forget anything. I have a near-photographic memory.
5. Which one of you is smarter?
P: See #8.
E: See #8.
4. If I smack you in the face, will your twin feel it?
P: Uh, I hope I never have to find out.
E: I’d rather not test that theory, thank you.
3. Which one of you is the evil twin?
P: Neither of us is evil—right, Emma?
E: Payton’s not really evil. Just misguided by her peers and the media.
2. Do you guys read each other’s minds?
P: Heck, no. And take back that last thing you said about me, Emma. Whatever it means.
E: No, we don’t read each other’s minds. I read books. She reads fashion magazines. (Ow, Payton, stop whacking me with that magazine!)
1. Do you like being an identical twin?
P: Most of the time, except when Emma attempts her lame-o put-downs.
E: Sorry, Payton, sometimes I just can’t control myself. Ow! Stop whacking me. Yes, I do like it. Even with our differences, Payton and I are best friends.
P: Yes. BTFF. Best twin friends forever!!!!
Acknowledgments
Double thanks to:
The family: Robin Rozines, Amy Rozines, Greg Roy, Dave DeVillers, and Quinn DeVillers.
The Simon & Schuster crew: Mark McVeigh, Ellen Krieger, and Alyson Heller of Aladdin, as well as Rick Richter, Bethany Buck, Mara Anastas, Karin Paprocki, Paul Crichton and his publicity team, Mary McAveney, Lucille Rettino and the marketing team, and Wendy Rubin.
The agents: Mel Berger and The William Morris Agency, Alyssa Eisner Henkin and Trident Media Group.
The fashion crew: Q, Ilana, and the Dipietra designers.
And: Lisa Yee, Melissa Wiechmann, Daphne Chan, Kay Panabaker, The Colonie Town Library, and everyone who’s ever mixed us up, giving us good stories for this book.
One
MIDDLE SCHOOL, AFTER LAST PERIOD
Cell phone! Oh no, my cell phone was ringing!
I opened my tote bag and scrounged around in a panic. I felt my brush and mirror. My raspberry lip gloss. Ouch, sharp pencil.
And, phew, my cell phone. I changed the ringer to vibrate. And not a moment too soon because the principal was walking toward us . . . toward us . . . and whew. She walked right by us.
My phone went Bzzzzt.
“Good job, Payton,” my twin sister, Emma, muttered from next to me. “Aren’t we in enough trouble without you breaking the no-cell-phones-on-during-school rule too?”
Why yes. Yes, we were in enough trouble. Considering we were heading to our after-school detention.
“Plus, didn’t Mom and Dad take away our cell phones? Are you even supposed to have it?” Emma went on and on and on. . . .
I sighed as I walked down the hall. We passed a WELCOME GECKOS! poster that was peeling off the wall. Someone had drawn a mustache and earrings on the gecko, the school mascot.
Only a little more than a week ago I’d been so psyched to be at this new school. My own locker! New people! Cute guys! Different teachers! Switching classes! But then, we had switched more than classes. We had switched places. And the whole identical twins trading places thing? Hadn’t worked out so well for us.
We passed two boys walking the other way. One turned around and laughed. “Hey, look!” he said. “It’s those TV twins!”
They both laughed.
My face flamed red with embarrassment. The whole weekend I’d tried to prepare myself for comments, but it had been a seriously long day.
“I wonder if they know who is who today,” his friend called out, obviously so we could hear him.
“Who is whom,” Emma muttered as she walked next to me, lugging her ginormous backpack.
I rolled my eyes at her.
“What?” Emma said. “If they’re going to be insulting, they could at least be grammatically correct.” And then she turned around to call to the guys. “It’s ‘whom’! W-H-O-M!”
“Oh my gosh,” I said, grabbing her backpack handle and dragging her around the corner. “Shush!”
“But he was being inaccurate,” she protested. “And he was trying to make us look silly, but I showed him, didn’t I? Ha! Did you see the look of embarrassment on his face after I pointed out his error?”
Augh! He wasn’t embarrassed about his grammar, he was embarrassed for my sister. Emma was so entirely clueless sometimes.
“Just let it go,” I moaned. “Isn’t it bad enough that we’re known as identical twins who switched places, fooled everyone, and were busted and filmed making complete idiots of themselves in front of the entire school last week?”
“ ‘Who’ is a subjective pronoun,” Emma muttered. “Duh.”
Sigh.
Even though last week was only our first week in our new school, we were already kind of famous. But not in a good way. Being called the TV twins sounded cool, until you knew the whole story. We hadn’t been on real TV, just the school videocast shown live on a humongous screen at our first pep rally. When, unknown to us at the time, we were on camera arguing about Emma being a boring brainiac. And about me, well, not doing so great with the whole popular thing. And also arguing about how stupid the other one was.
“I wish we could start middle school over again,” I said. “We need a do-over.”
“Tell me about it,” Emma said. “I’m going to detention. Me! Emma “The Brain” Mills! I’ve only stayed after for mathletics, or the spelling bee, or to help the sixth-grade math teacher understand our honors homework. But detention?”
“It was your idea to switch places,” I reminded her again.
“Because you needed me to help save your reputation after you embarrassed yourself in front of your so-called friends,” Emma shot back. “And look where that got us. Right into the principal’s office and detention and being grounded.”
Ugh. My sister was right. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, switching places. Emma and I looked so much alike we’d thought it would be a good break from our lives. Which weren’t going so great.
“Detention! I think I’m going to hyperventilate. I’m going to pass out,” Emma was muttering. She unzipped her hoodie.
“Emma! Your sweatshirt!” I whispered, trying not to attract any more attention from people passing by.
“What? All this stress is making me hot. I’m not interested in perspiring,” Emma replied.
“Emma, look at what you’re wearing,” I said, tilting my head toward her shirt so she’d get the picture. Under her sweatshirt Emma was wearing a T-shirt that said BEE THE BEST SPELLER IN SIXTH GRADE! It was bright yellow and had a hole in the side. She’d worn that thing all last year and it still made my eyes bleed.
With Emma’s newfound sort-of sense of style, even she would be embarrassed by it.
I smiled at the thought of Emma having even a small sense of
style. Up until last week Emma’s idea of style was to throw on sweats, tie her hair up in a ponytail, and wear a T-shirt from one of her gajillion competitions, advertising her brilliance. Even for the first day of school!
But I’d wanted to start the school year looking trendy and cool. So I’d spent the past summer at camp doing chores for this girl, Ashlynn, who would “pay” me with designer clothes. I called them my “summer slave clothes.”
The designer clothes had impressed Sydney and given me temporary access to popularity. But very temporary, because then I’d totally embarrassed myself. Emma had stepped in to save me and we’d switched places. She helped me redeem myself with Sydney and her friends.
It worked for a couple days, and then? Twin Fail.
But one good thing? Emma had discovered that looking comfortable and cute wasn’t such a bad thing. I waited as she opened her mouth to thank me for saving her from being seen in that T-shirt in public.
“Please tell me you’re not concerned with what I’m wearing right now or how I look?” Emma hissed at me.
Well. Kind of. Her hair was really disastrous, since taking off the sweatshirt had caused a static attack. I reached into my tote bag and scrounged around. Mirror, lip gloss, ouch! Sharp pencil. Yeesh. And then there it was—my brush.
“That is the least of our problems right now,” Emma said. “I can’t believe you are even thinking about my appearance!”
I quickly dropped the brush back into the tote bag.
“Besides, this is the perfect shirt to wear,” Emma muttered. “It will remind Mrs. Case that I am the spelling bee champion and not someone who gets in big trouble.”
Well, at least it would be harder to mix us up, with Emma’s static-head and holey T-shirt. My hair was still looking good even after a bad day. My brownish blond shiny hair was my best feature. Emma also had brownish blond hair, but it was a teeny bit less shiny than mine.
And I was proud of my outfit. I’d spent a lot of time choosing my outfit today. Since it was our first day back after our horrible humiliation, I wanted to make sure that when people pointed and stared at me, at least I looked cute.
I was wearing:
Trading Faces Page 17