Triple Trouble

by Julia DeVillers

  “Would you mind demonstrating some of your prowess to us, Ms. Mills?” one of the women asked me.

  “Sure?” I hesitated. Okay, I wasn’t sure what prowess was. Why wasn’t Emma here yet? She would know what the word meant and how to respond. I’d have to wing it without her. I took a guess that it meant I was supposed to show off our lines.

  “I love having shiny hair. Shiny hair makes me feel shiny inside,” I said brightly.

  I swished my hair, just the way the director had told me they liked. Swish! Swish!

  The audience stopped smiling. Hmmm. Swish! I swished harder. The audience looked confused, annoyed, and amused. But not impressed. Okay, I’d try again.

  “Um. Teen Sheen shampoo? That’s what makes your hair so supershiny?” I continued. Still the same response. Not smiling. Well, I’d saved the best for last. I saw one of the people had a water bottle on the table, and I reached over and grabbed it.

  I held it up to my face as if it were a bottle of Teen Sheen shampoo and smiled my best dazzling smile.

  “ ‘Shiny, shiny, double the shiny!’ ” I said. Yes! I had nailed that line, if I did say so myself. However, my audience was not applauding, or asking for my autograph. Actually, they looked a little freaked out. Two of them murmured to each other.

  “Ah, heh-heh.” the principal gave a nervous laugh. “Ms. Mills is demonstrating her other talent: acting. Yes, she and her twin sister were recently featured on a national television commercial.”

  Everyone in the room went “Ohhh!” and started nodding like they got it. But I didn’t get it.

  Principal continued. “Does anyone have a question?”

  Yes, actually, me! I had a question. If they weren’t talking about the commercial, why was I here? What questions were they going to ask me? And where the heck was Emma?!?!

  “Ahem.” One of the men cleared his throat. “What was your winning question and answer?”

  “Winning question in . . . ?” I asked nervously.

  “Oh!” Principal said. “I need to be more clear. She’s so brilliant, she wins many competitions—science, Geobee, spelling. We’re talking about your recent win in Mathletes. What was the winning question and answer?”

  Oh. OH! Oh. Uh-oh.

  They thought I was Emma! You could probably see the lightbulb go off over my head right then. I must have accidentally gotten a letter for my sister.

  “I’m not—” I started to explain, but Principal Patel looked kind of desperate. I realized she had brought me/Emma in to show off. I didn’t want to embarrass her. Okay, I just had to answer one question and—ta-da!—all would be fine.

  The good news was, I knew the answer to that question! Yes, I did! Not that I would have been able to figure out the math problem myself, obviously. But because after the competition, Emma kept saying it in the car on the way home.

  “They asked me that angle blah blah secant problem!” She kept saying over and over, endlessly. “And I answered forty percent! And then they said, ‘That is correct! Emma Mills is the Mathletes champion!’ ”

  Her reliving that moment had drilled it into my skull. Phew. Right now I was thankful that my sister had been so totally annoying! I repeated what Emma said.

  Everyone at the table murmured approvingly and applauded me. Awesome! I did a little bow, like I thought Emma would do.

  This was working out just fine. Actually, it was a good thing they had mistakenly called me in because Emma was so stressed and well, messy, today. In her sweats and with her unwashed look, she wasn’t really representing.

  “Emma, to what do you owe your math success?” somebody asked.

  I caught Principal Patel’s eye. Okay, Payton. Think like Emma.

  “Well, I have great advanced-math teachers, and I’m able to take advanced courses online too,” I said. Everyone nodded, so I went on, encouraged. “And of course, I couldn’t do it with my fabulous twin sister, Payton!”

  “Ah, two skilled mathematicians in one family?” a woman said.

  Wait, uh, no. Let’s not go there.

  “Well!” I said brightly. “I should probably get to my . . .” Second period . . . Emma had . . . um . . . some class.

  “Oh, I’ll write you an excuse,” Principal Patel said. “We have time for a few more questions.”

  “Ms. Mills, what is an asymptote?” the woman asked me.

  Um. Uh. Er. I broke out into a sweat so cold I probably looked as unwashed as Emma. Um. Uh. What should I do? I didn’t want to embarrass the principal. So I did the first thing that came to mind.

  I sneezed. I did the biggest, grossest fake sneeze that I could possibly fake.

  “Excuse me!” I gasped. “The answer is . . . achoo!”

  I held my arm up to my mouth and sneezed harder. Then I went into a cough-choking-gag noise.

  “Emma! Are you okay?” the principal asked.

  “Water!” I gasped, and pointed to the hallway.

  “Goodness, well, perhaps you should go to the water fountain,” one of the woman said authoritatively. “Thank you for sharing your accomplishments with us, Emma.”

  I backed out of the room and fled down the hall before they could stop me. I didn’t stop until I had fast-walked up the stairs and into the empty hallway. I leaned against a locker to catch my breath.

  Whew. Emma might have academic awards, but I deserved an Academy Award for that performance!

  Six

  ALSO BACK TO CLASS

  I slid the note into my tote bag as I walked quickly to my science class. The note I’d gotten from the principal’s office. All it said was:

  Please report to Classroom B13 at 10:43.

  Mrs. Burkle

  I assumed Payton had gotten the same note. Last time we’d had a special meeting with Mrs. Burkle, we’d ended up going off to Hollywood. I didn’t know what to expect this time, but I hoped it didn’t add to my workload. I couldn’t worry about it now. Right now I needed to focus, and my focus was 100 percent science. I pushed open the door to my science class. Everyone looked at me as I walked in.

  “ . . . are called metamorphic rocks.” Dr. Perkins stopped her lecture and looked at me. “Emma, I’ll take your pass, and you may have a seat.”

  I handed her my pass and tried to head unobtrusively to my usual seat in the second row. Except someone was in it. Someone had stolen my prime seat. I scanned the room, ignoring Jazmine’s smirk. The only empty seat was in the back, behind Cashmere.

  I hated sitting in the back. Plus Cashmere had really big hair that was hard to see over. But I sat down and listened to Dr. Perkins.

  “What are metamorphic rocks with mineral crystals arranged in parallel layers called?” Dr. Perkins asked.

  My science teacher hadn’t even finished the question before my hand shot up. Jazmine James raised her hand at least three milliseconds after mine, but since she was sitting in the prime seat in front-row center, the teacher must have seen her first.

  “Jazmine?”

  “Foliated,” Jazmine answered.

  Whatever. That was an easy question. I’d save myself for a more challenging question.

  “Class, what is an example of a mpppf mpppf rock?”

  What? What had she said? Dr. Perkins had turned toward the chalkboard, so I couldn’t hear the end of the question. I tapped Cashmere in front of me. Her hair wasn’t blocking as much as usual because she was leaning forward, as if she were trying hard to hear as well.

  “Psst, Cashmere,” I whispered. “What did the teacher say?”

  “Yes!” Cashmere’s head suddenly jerked up, and she shouted, “Yes, I’ll marry you, Ron Weasley!”

  Half the class—including me—jumped. And then everyone except me started cracking up.

  “Wha—? Where am I?” Cashmere sputtered.

  “I’m sorry, did I wake you up?” Dr. Perkins said sarcastically.

  “No,” Cashmere said. “You didn’t. Emma did. She jabbed me in the back.”

  Everyone turned to look at me. Ahe
m.

  “Jabbing is frowned upon.” Dr. Perkins frowned at me.

  “Sorry,” I mumbled.

  “But sleeping in class is also frowned upon, Cashmere,” Dr. Perkins said. “Although Mr. Weasley would be a fine choice for a husband. But I digress. Let me diagram the rock formations on the Smart Board for you.”

  Dr. Perkins started Smart Boarding. Cashmere turned around and glared at me. Puhlease! Like it was my fault she was sleeping through an important class. Far more troubling was who had turned around and was looking at me from the front of the room: Jazmine. And she was grinning.

  Nooooo! I had talked my way out of the nurse’s office for this? Jazmine. A worthy opponent. Jazmine turned around, flipping her ponytail as she faced the teacher. Her nice, neat ponytail. I put my hand up to my hair and grimaced. Jazmine was wearing a color-block shirt, black pants, and wedges. I had to admit she looked cute, stylish and organized, and put together. I, in my sweats and old T-shirt, looked like I was falling apart.

  This was wrong. If Jazmine could be pulled together, so could I.

  It was time to regroup. Organize. Prioritize.

  Appearance. Superficial, perhaps, but it would help show that I was back in the game. Luckily, I knew Payton always kept a spare outfit in her locker. I’d change into it after class and before my meeting with Mrs. Burkle. Yep, change of clothes, change of attitude.

  Thinking about clothes reminded me of the shopping trip Mom took Payton and me on. We both got dresses for the dance. . . .

  “Blah blah blah your homework assignment,” Dr. Perkins was saying.

  Bzzzt. The bell rang.

  Wha—? Class was over? I’d missed the homework assignment! I’d been daydreaming! Me! Spacing out in class?! Oh no. Payton was right. That fall had affected me! My brain was broken.

  Onward, Emma. I would start pulling myself together starting now. I went to our lockers, but Payton wasn’t there. Fortunately, I knew her locker combination. I reached in and pulled out the bag with the extra outfit and her brush. I headed to the nearest bathroom, and a few minutes later, I was in Payton’s clothes:

  Oversized pink sweater (Pink was Payton’s signature color, not my favorite, but beggars can’t be choosers.)

  Dark jeans with a little rip in them

  Brown belt (Boy, Payton was prepared. Accessories and everything.)

  The bell rang for next period, just as I brushed my hair and pulled it into a ponytail. There. At least outwardly, I was pulled together. I better get to the classroom where Mrs. Burkle wanted to meet.

  “Hi, Emma!” My friend Quinn came down the hall and pushed through the crowd to get near me.

  “Hi!” I said. “The hallway looks awesome!” I pointed at the posters on the wall.

  “Do you really think they look good?” Quinn worried. “I heard that some people were making fun of the glamorous geckos I drew on them. But I mean, I was trying to put some school spirit into the posters. Go, Geckos, and all that.”

  “I think they’re not only very cute but they’re also well drawn,” I said emphatically. “I’d never be able to draw lizards in formal wear.”

  “Thanks, Emma.” Quinn lit up. I smiled, because I’d made my friend smile. I was getting much better in the friends/social skills department. “Hey,” Quinn said. “Where are you going next?”

  “Oh, I have to go see Mrs. Burkle about something,” I said. “In the VOGS room. Mrs. Burkle is in that room this period.”

  “I bet they’re interviewing you for VOGS,” Quinn said. “About either your Mathletes win or your TV commercial.”

  “I hadn’t thought about being on camera,” I mused. “I was thinking she wanted to talk to me about English homework or something.”

  Well, it was a good thing I’d changed my clothes. Payton would have to appreciate that. I said good-bye to Quinn and headed toward the VOGS room. I was just about to go in when I noticed the new boy coming around the corner. Just one boy. Still. I was feeling jumpy since the double-triple-vision incident.

  Oh no! Another one! I was having another attack of vision problems. Calm down, Emma, I told myself. It could be worse. It could be triple vision, like before. And then suddenly, it was. Another new boy. The one boy had turned into three. Three boys coming down the hall.

  “Ms. Mills!” Mrs. Burkle’s voice rang out. “Time is of the essence! Entrez vous!”

  I stumbled into the room and blinked to clear my vision. Only one Burkle. Okay, only one. That was good. I looked around. One Nick, standing at a video camera in front of the VOGS set.

  Then the new guy entered. Whew! Just one of him. But wait, he was followed by another one. And another one . . .

  “The triplets are here!” Mrs. Burkle announced.

  Triplets? TRIPLETS!

  Oh. Duh.

  I hadn’t been seeing triple. Well, I had, but that’s because they were triplets! I was an identical twin. You would have thought that I would have figured that one out. But I was thrown off after hitting my head.

  Plus, honestly, they did look like one person in triplicate. They were all wearing the same shirt, jeans, and sneakers. They all had black hair cut identically sharp. And when they walked, it was practically in unison.

  Even Payton and I weren’t like . . . clones.

  I watched the three boys as Mrs. Burkle ushered them onto the VOGS set. They were so in sync as they sat down in the chairs, sprawled out, and waited. Were they robots?

  “Any questions?” Mrs. Burkle asked them.

  “No,” they all said, of course, almost at the same time.

  “We’ve been on TV a lot,” one of them added. The other two nodded.

  “One minute till . . . VOGS showtime!” Mrs. Burkle announced. One minute until VOGS? Why was I here? Was she going to let me know why she had called me here at this time?

  “We’re ready!” Burkle waved at me. “Come on over!”

  Ready for . . . ?

  “What—” I started to say when a girl I didn’t know suddenly started attacking the neck of my sweater.

  “Shush while I mike you,” the girl said clipping a microphone on me. “You’ll be heard all over the set. Okay, now say ‘Testing, testing.’ ”

  “Testing, testing,” I repeated. “But—”

  “You know the drill. On set in five.” The girl sighed. She practically pushed me onto the set into the seat across from the triplets. “Sometime I hope I get to be on camera too. Payton.”

  Payton?

  “In ten . . .”

  Payton!

  “. . . nine . . .”

  They thought I was Payton! I saw the teleprompter angled right at me and I froze. Sure, I’d been on camera in Hollywood, but I had been prepared! I still hated being on camera.

  “I think she’s nervous,” one of the triplets said, grinning.

  “Maybe she’s never been on camera before,” said another one, nodding.

  “She can follow our lead,” the third said smugly. “Watch and learn.”

  “I’ve been on camera!” I started to protest but saw Mrs. Burkle pretending to slice her throat, so I had to stop talking. I took a deep breath and . . . my competitive spirit kicked into gear.

  A girl wheeled the teleprompter right in front of me. That’s it?

  “I just have to read the teleprompter?” I checked.

  “Yeah. Since we had to get this on the air so fast, I wrote the news report for you,” the girl said. “And three . . . two . . . and you’re on the air!”

  I looked one of the triplets directly in the eye and smiled my best competition smile. I had a genius IQ—I could read a simple teleprompter! Don’t worry, Payton, I thought. I’ve got this.

  Seven

  BACK TO CLASS . . . AGAIN

  I left the principal’s office feeling pretty genius. Not like a math genius, but like I’d covered for Principal Patel and Emma pretty well. Just call me mathEmmatician!

  Hee!

  I practically skipped down the hallway.

  I did
n’t mean to Twin-Switch, but that one couldn’t be helped, right? And I had to admit, if we had to have an accidental twin switch, I was glad that it was ME pretending I was Emma, rather than the other way around.

  Not that Emma didn’t do a good job pretending to be me, I also had to admit. It’s just that I preferred to have control over my image. Emma pretending to be me could go smoothly, or it could go very, very wrong.

  Eight

  BREAKING NEWS

  I read my lines off the teleprompter.

  “Hi, I’m Payton”—er—I felt a moment of guilt but continued on reading. “Here with a breaking news story. As you may know, I’m an identical twin. And I’m here with three new students who aren’t just twins, but triplets!”

  The camera flashed to the triplets, who were now smiling.

  “I’m Dexter,” said one. “That’s Oliver and Asher.”

  Okay, Dexter on the left, Oliver in the middle, Asher on the right. Got it.

  “Wow, that is so cool,” I read off the teleprompter and shuddered inwardly. Who wrote these lines? “Are you identical?”

  “Yeah,” Oliver said. “And identical triplets are extremely rare. One in a million.”

  “Are you identical?” I read off the teleprompter. Wait. I’d just asked that. It wasn’t scrolling ahead.

  “Dude,” Dexter said. “You just asked us that.”

  The girl at the teleprompter was shaking it a little bit. Mrs. Burkle had jumped up and was waving her hands in the air, like “keep talking.” Oh, great. The teleprompter was stuck, and I had to wing this thing. Okay, keep it rolling. . . .

  “Identical triplets are extremely rare,” I said. “Identical triplets occur when a single fertilized egg splits in two, and then one of the resulting two eggs splits one more time.”

  There. That should impress them. Except, wait, I was supposed to be Payton. Payton didn’t spout facts. I relaxed my shoulders and did my best Payton posture.

  “So kewl!” I added.

  “Identical triplets are always the same gender and blood type, but they don’t have to always look alike,” Oliver said.