Triple Trouble

by Julia DeVillers

  I went to my locker, and Payton was standing there waiting for me.

  “You could have told me you pretended to be me for VOGS,” she whisper-hissed to me.

  “I thought I’d have plenty of time,” I said. “I thought it would air at the end of school, not in the middle of it!”

  “Still,” Payton said, arms crossed. “You should have told me in the JC.”

  “I thought it was more important for us to change so we didn’t get busted,” I said. “Then we had to be silent, remember? Then I ran into my science teacher, and I had to ask her about the homework assignment. . . .”

  “Next time, before any of that, you need to tell me that you JUST PRETENDED TO BE ME!” Payton’s voice rose. People turned to look at her, and her cheeks turned pinker than the sweater we’d both worn. She lowered her voice. “I need to be prepared. Everyone is asking me about the triplets, and I have to fake knowing something.”

  “I don’t know much more than what you saw on VOGS,” I said. Then I lowered my voice even more. “But it was a little odd. They kept making comments about triplets being better than twins.”

  “To you?” Payton asked. I nodded.

  “And there was something else odd,” I mused. “I know it sounds ridiculous, but they seemed to be talking to one another in, well, twin ESP. I mean, triplet ESP.”

  “But you don’t believe in any of that!” Payton said. “Maybe they were lip-reading like you tried to do for your failed science project.”

  “It wasn’t a failed project. Jazmine protested it before I even made it, that’s all,” I said, scowling. “Anyway their lips weren’t moving. Like I said, it was all very strange.”

  The warning bell rang. The hallway got loud as students raced to their classes.

  “Eeps! I forgot to tell you something,” Payton said, slamming her locker door. “While you were being me, I was being you. I had to do a Mathletes demonstration in the principal’s office for the school board.”

  “You what?!” My jaw dropped.

  “Don’t worry. I was great,” Payton said. “Have to go or I’ll be late to class. Bye!”

  But . . . but . . . I watched my sister hurry away. I thought about what a Mathletes demonstration by Payton would be, and shuddered. On second thought, I didn’t want to think about it at all.

  I had lunch this period. Although I wasn’t hungry (third-period lunch), I knew I’d need sustenance to get through this kind of day. I grabbed my lunch bag and headed into the cafeteria.

  “Hi, Emma!” Tess said.

  I sat down next to her, in my usual seat between her and Courtney Jones.

  “I was just saying how I have two of those triplets in my gym class,” Courtney said. “Cashmere tried to talk them into singing for us, but they said they only perform when they’re all together. And for money. I think that was a joke.”

  I wouldn’t be so sure. Those triplets were a little slick.

  “They look so much alike,” Tess said. “Don’t you think, Emma?”

  “Definitely,” I said.

  “I wish I had a twin or triplet.” Courtney sighed. “Well, at least I have quintuplet hamster babies.”

  Courtney was pretty into her hamsters. I’d first met her at a science fair, when her hamster had gotten loose from an exhibit. She was a contender this year for a prize, but my fiercest competition was, of course, Jazmine.

  Jazmine James, who was walking by my lunch table with Hector. And stopping.

  “Guess what, Emma and Courtney?” Jazmine said. “I got the final phase of my science project approved this morning.”

  “It’s outstanding,” Hector added.

  “How’s your science project coming?” Jazmine asked.

  “So great!” Courtney said. “I’m getting some interesting results about the effects of music on hamsters. I’m testing whether or not they run faster on their wheels to different kinds of music.”

  “I hope you’re not set up next to me,” Jazmine said. “Hamsters creep me out.”

  “They’re cute and fuzzy,” Tess said, jumping to Courtney’s defense. “I think it’s an interesting idea.”

  “Emma,” Jazmine said turning to me. “You’re so lucky. You must have so much free time, while the rest of us slave away at our science fair projects.”

  “Oh, I have a lot going on. You know, special projects and all that,” I said breezily. Before I could change the direction of this conversation to a discussion of our English paper (A+!), it was changed for me.

  “It’s Emma!” a voice yelled across the cafeteria. “We want to sit with Emma!”

  The entire cafeteria turned to see who was yelling. It was Jason, with Mason and their mother, Counselor Case. The boys were carrying lunch trays. And they were heading my way.

  “Looks like you have some groupies.” Jazmine smirked and walked off with Hector in tow.

  “Sorry in advance for this,” I told Tess and Courtney.

  “Oh, I think they’re adorable!” Tess said.

  “Almost as cute as my hamsters,” Courtney said.

  “Yeah, they are,” I agreed. “But they’re more unpredictable than hamsters.”

  “Emma, guess what? We’re here for lunch!” Mason and Jason ran up to me, their lunch trays precariously balanced. “Can we sit with you?”

  Counselor Case hurried over.

  “Boys, let Emma have her lunch in peace,” she said, and turned to me. “Sorry. The boys have a two-hour delay at the elementary school. We’re killing time.”

  “They can sit with me,” I told Counselor Case. I actually enjoyed Mason and Jason—most of the time. Plus, they just got rid of Jazmine James, so I felt like I owed them one. I slid over so they could sit on my bench.

  “Do you mind if I run to the office?” Counselor Case said. “I’ll be back in just a few minutes.”

  “No problem,” I said as she left.

  “Emma, did you see those new triplets?” Jason asked me. “They were in Mom’s office this morning with us.”

  “They look a lot alike, don’t they?” I asked them, unwrapping my tuna sandwich and carefully setting the pickle I’d packed to the side.

  “They have magic powers,” Mason added, digging into his hot-lunch mac and cheese. “They showed us.”

  “Not magic,” Jason scoffed. “Telepathy. And telepathy isn’t scientifically proven. But . . . it was spooky.”

  I thought about what the triplets had done after the interview.

  “What did they do?” Tess was fascinated.

  “They said they read one another’s minds,” Jason said, popping a chicken nugget in his mouth. “They showed us. They had a whole conversation without words.”

  Hmmm. It was interesting what the triplets had done earlier too. While Payton and I couldn’t really read each other’s minds, I often did think I knew what she was thinking. And I thought about the coincidences—twin-cidences—that Payton and I had.

  “I bet we can do that,” Mason was saying. “Jase, think of something and I’ll tell you what it is.”

  Jason stared at Mason.

  “You’re thinking . . .” Mason paused and put his hands to his forehead. “You’re thinking that Emma’s friends are cute.”

  “I was not!” Jason jumped up, his face red.

  Mason raised an eyebrow.

  “Mason,” I warned, “be nice to your brother.”

  “Let’s see if he can read your mind,” Courtney said. “For real, though.”

  “Okay,” Jason stared at Mason.

  “He’s thinking that his mac and cheese is gross,” Jason said.

  “Yeah!” Mason’s eyes widened. “I was. How did you do that?”

  “Really? Do you think you read his mind?” Tess asked.

  “I don’t know,” Jason said. “It just popped into my head.”

  “It might be the nonverbal signals,” I pointed out. “You may have seen Mason grimace, indicating he wasn’t enjoying his food.”

  “No, I’m the psychic twin,�
� Jason said. “Mason’s just psycho.”

  Mason stuck out his tongue. It was covered in mac and cheese. Gross.

  “Easy, guys,” I said. I took a bite out of my apple.

  “Try to read my mind again then,” Mason challenged Jason.

  The two boys stared at each other. And stared.

  “Why aren’t you saying anything?” Mason challenged.

  “Your brain is empty,” Jason said. “As usual.”

  “Hey!” Mason said. Before we could stop him, he reached into Jason’s mac and cheese with his hand and squished it around.

  “Boys!” I said. “Cut it—”

  “Hey!” Jason protested. He knocked Mason’s hand away, and the goo from the mac and cheese flew off Mason’s hand and sprayed us all.

  “What the—” a voice behind us yelped. I turned around to see that Hector had mac and cheese in his hair too.

  “Ew, Hector,” Jazmine said, leaning away from him. But unfortunately for her, she leaned closer to our table just as Jason threw a chicken nugget at Mason. However, Jason wasn’t known for his aim. The nugget flew past Mason and landed on Jazmine’s table.

  “AUH!” Jazmine screeched as ketchup splatted her.

  “Woo yah! Food fight!” Mason yelled.

  “No, no.” I tried to shush him. But it was too late. The words had been spoken.

  “Food fight!” Someone took up the rallying cry.

  Duck and cover! Duck and cover! I started to slide under the table, but it was too late. Splat! A piece of lettuce splatted on my cheek. Salad dressing dripped down onto my (Payton’s) sweater.

  “Food fight!” people were yelling.

  Chaos! Yelling! Squealing! And then a piece of lunch meat flew over my head. Food was flying everywhere!

  “Boys!” Mason and Jason were winging mac and cheese and nuggets. Please tell me I can’t be held responsible for this, can I? I grasped each boy by the neck and lifted them like kittens.

  “Read my mind, guys,” I growled at them.

  “But that’s scientifically impos—” Jason protested.

  “Guess!” I cut him off, dragging both of them away from the table.

  “Stop throwing food?” Jason asked.

  “And get out of here?” Mason asked.

  “Exactly,” I said. “Let’s go find your mother.”

  We maneuvered around the tables and the cafeteria aides trying to avoid the flying food and get to the door. Counselor Case rushed in just as we reached it.

  “What on earth is going—?” Counselor Case started to say, but didn’t get to finish. Because a carton of chocolate milk flew past her, spraying her from head to toes.

  “Awes—” Mason started to say, but Jason read his mind.

  “—ful,” Jason elbowed him. “That’s just awful.”

  Good save, Jason.

  Eleven

  AT DINNER

  “So Counselor Case tried to blot the chocolate milk off, but it was fruitless,” Emma said as she reached over and plucked the last of the chow mein fun with her chopsticks.

  We were finishing dinner at our favorite Chinese restaurant. Emma was filling us in on the details of the epic food fight at lunch. It was the only time I’d ever wished I’d had third-period lunch.

  “I remember this food fight I was in once,” my dad said looking gleeful. “It was spaghetti day at school, and the principal walked in just as I was throwing a plate and—”

  “Ahem,” my mother said. “Don’t be a bad influence on the girls.”

  “And that’s my cue to pay the bill,” Dad said, cheerfully sliding out of the booth and heading up to the front room where the cashier was located.

  “You’re so lucky,” I grumbled. “I’ve never been in a food fight.”

  “Now, that’s something to be proud of,” my mother told me. “Although Emma, I’m glad you helped Counselor Case.”

  “Well, it worked out great for me,” Emma said. “Because as punishment, the twins have to do an extra day with me.”

  “That is punishment, spending extra time with you,” I snorted.

  Emma shot me a look.

  “I’m getting paid extra money too,” she said. “So, ha!”

  “Don’t forget your fortune cookies,” the server said as she came up and placed four of them on a silver tray. She looked at me and then at Emma and then back at me. I knew what she was thinking.

  “Yes, we’re twins,” I told her. “Identical.”

  “I see it’s a night for that,” the server said. “You should see the three twins in the front room. They look even more alike than you too!”

  I guess I didn’t know what she was thinking after all.

  “Three twins?” my mom asked. “Triplets?”

  Emma and I looked at each other. We hadn’t mentioned the new triplets to our parents yet. We’d talked about it when we had gotten home. I told Emma I wasn’t going to say anything, because I was afraid I’d blurt out something stupid about VOGS and Emma being me. Emma said she didn’t want to say anything, because she didn’t want to judge them yet on their first day.

  (But she thought they’d been mean.)

  “Oh, yeah,” Emma said. “I forgot to tell you. There are new identical triplets in school. Boys. They have their own boy band too.”

  “Neat,” my mom said. “Did you meet them?”

  “Yeeesss,” we both said slowly. We were saved from answering any more by our dad, who had come back to the table.

  “Maybe we can sneak out. You hide behind Mom, and I’ll hide behind Dad,” I whispered to Emma, who nodded.

  “Hey, guess what?” Dad said to us. “I just bumped into some triplets, and when I mentioned I, too, had identicals, they said they go to your school. Come and say hello.”

  “What a coincidence!” my mom said.

  “A twincidence?” I whispered to Emma. “Or what would you call a triplet-coincindence?”

  “Annoying,” Emma muttered back. “I’d call it annoying. They’re everywhere.”

  Emma and I followed Dad out to the front room. Yup, the triplets were there, sitting with two women who looked like—each other.

  “This is my wife, and these are my twins.” Dad nudged us closer to the table.

  “I’m Bonita, and this is my twin sister, Belinda,” the woman said. “And these are my sons, Dexter, Oliver, and Asher.”

  I couldn’t tell which one went with which name.

  “We met in school,” I said. “Hi, I’m Payton. That’s Emma.”

  “One of them interviewed us, and the other one was lying on the floor in a hallway,” a triplet said.

  Our parents looked at us.

  “We didn’t get to tell you guys about the rest of our day,” I said brightly.

  “So many stories, not enough time,” Emma added, even more brightly.

  “Just to be sure, which one of you is which?” I asked them. “I know how annoying it can be when people just lump you together because you look alike.”

  “Dexter is the charmer, Oliver is the funny one, and Asher is the sensitive one whose thoughts run deep,” the mother said.

  “Oh, how . . . interesting,” my mom said, looking slightly flustered.

  “The boys formed a music group, so you know how it is,” their mother said. “These days they need a brand, which, of course, in our case is triplets.”

  “SuperTwins,” a triplet nodded.

  “But each boy needs to have his own identity,” their mother said.

  “Oh, I highly agree,” my mom said. “It’s important for multiples to feel like individuals.”

  “Actually, I meant for marketing purposes,” their mother chuckled. “Like Paul was the cute one, Ringo was the funny one, George was the quiet one . . . You want to have a member to appeal to different girls.”

  “Oh.” my father said. There was a moment of quiet.

  “Well, welcome, and I hope you’re enjoying your new community and school,” my mom said cheerily.

  “Thank you,” Bon
ita said. “We’re celebrating the boys’ first day at school after our move here. I just divorced their father, and we moved in with Belinda.”

  That could be hard, a divorce and a move. I smiled at the triplets to show that I was understanding of that. They just eyed me back, without any facial expression at all. Okay.

  “Of course, eventually we plan to end up in LA or New York or Nashville for the business, so it’s temporary,” their mother continued.

  My parents just nodded.

  “So you two are twin sisters?” Emma asked. “The prevalence of multiples in family histories interests me.”

  “Yes, Belinda and I are identical twins, just like you girls,” the mother said. “Obviously, multiples run in our family.”

  “I’m so pleased that Bonita and the boys will be here for the festival,” Belinda said.

  “What festival?” my mom asked.

  “The annual multiples fest: Multipalooza,” Bonita said. “A festival to celebrate multiples. Belinda is on the board of directors for it. You must bring the girls!”

  “This year the boys will get to attend for the first time,” Belinda said. “It was previously for adults. But now we’re having a new Multiples Tweens and Teens division.”

  “You’ve never seen so many identicals in your life!” Bonita said.

  A whole festival just for twins and supertwins! I did want to go! Emma and I would be among our people! I wondered what we should wear. Should we dress alike? Or not exactly alike, just complement each other with coordinating colors and—

  “And there will be all kinds of competitions,” Belinda added.

  I saw Emma perk up at that.

  “The boys will be performing this year,” Bonita said.

  “It’s about a two-hour drive from here,” Belinda was saying to my parents. “It’s Saturday, the—”

  “Not the dance weekend, I hope,” I blurted out.

  “Oh, is there a dance?” Belinda asked the triplets.

  “Yeah, a homecoming thing,” one of the triplets answered. “All these girls were asking us to go with them. They saw us on that video show at school and came after us.”

  These guys should call themselves the SuperEgo twins. Ha. I bet Emma would be proud of me for that joke.

  “We can text you the details about Multipalooza,” Bonita said.