Triple Trouble

by Julia DeVillers

  “I guess just ask someone if you can interview them, and I’ll be ready with the camera,” Nick said. “I’ll stick close to you.”

  Hee hee hee. The thought of Nick sticking close to me was also a little overwhelming. He was so cute and—focus, Payton! Okay.

  I went up to twin girls who looked about my age. They had black curly hair and were wearing matching outfits—but in different colors!

  “Hi,” I said. “May we interview you for a school video?”

  “Okay,” the girls said.

  “Can you introduce yourselves and tell me why you came to Multipalooza?”

  “I’m Gia,” one said.

  “I’m Ria,” the other said. “We’re here because it’s amazing to see all of these people who look alike, like us.”

  “Sometimes we feel like freaks, but not here!” Gia laughed. “That moment when people see two of you and their eyes get wide and you know they’re thinking, THREE of those crazy girls?”

  Wait. Three? Sure enough, a third identical came over to them.

  “Oh!” I laughed. “Surprise triplets.”

  “Who’s she?” The third eyed me up and down. “Is this for TV?”

  “Um, no, for our school video,” I told her.

  “Waste of time,” the third one scoffed. “Let’s go.”

  Gia and Ria both mouthed “Sorry!” and followed her away.

  “Gee, can you tell who’s the Dominant Twin there?” Emma said. “Yowch!”

  The next twins, boys who were there all the way from Texas, were way nicer.

  Then I interviewed other twins, triplets, and even quadruplets!

  “We have time for one more interview before we head to our event,” Emma said.

  I looked around for unique people and—

  “Over there.” I found some I definitely wanted to interview. They were two girls and a boy around Mason and Jason’s age. They stood out not only because of their bright red hair but because they were dressed up in costumes. Not identically, but definitely a theme: zombies. They agreed to be interviewed.

  “You guys stand out in the crowd,” Emma said on camera. “Tell us about yourselves.”

  “We’re triplets. I’m Tate,” one of the girls said. She had long, wavy red hair, white face makeup, and fake blood the same shade of red dripping down her face. “I’m a zombie. I want your braaaiiinnns.”

  “I’m Hadley,” the other girl said. Her curly red hair was under a sparkling crown. Fake blood dripped down her face and pink princess dress. “I’m a zombie princess. I also want your braaaiiinnns.”

  “I’m Jasper,” said the boy with short red hair and extra fake gore to go with his fake blood on his face and arms. “I’m a zombie, too. Braaaiiinnns.”

  “May I ask why you dressed up today?” I tried not to laugh.

  “Dressed up?” Tate asked. “I don’t know what you mean. We’re zombies who specialize in eating twins, and triplets’ brains. Can we have yours?”

  “Um, no,” Now I did laugh. I thanked them.

  “Mason and Jason would love those kids,” Emma said. “Okay, I think we definitely got enough unique interviews for now. It’s time for our first Twins Versus Triplets Challenge!”

  Twenty

  COMPETITION TIME

  “GO, Twins!”

  “GO, SuperTwins!”

  I could hear our fans and our nemeses chanting as Payton and I were in the girls’ bathroom. We were getting ready to compete in our first Multipalooza event. Since we’d been wearing our VOGS blazerly attire, we needed to change. Fortunately, we’d brought track pants so we’d be comfy for the ride home.

  “Here you go, girls!” Mrs. Burkle’s voice echoed in the ladies’ room. “Courtesy of Multipalooza and the triplets’ aunt, who was working at the T-shirt booth! Catch!”

  A red T-shirt flew over the top of the stall. I unrolled it and pulled it on over my tank top. I looked down and read the white letters:

  MULTIPALOOZA!

  It was time for a competition! I needed a competition. It had been too long since I felt that feeling in my veins, in my brains. It was time to challenge myself and win, win, win!

  As I gave myself my pep talk, I did my deep-breathing exercises. I did my yoga focus pose. I stretched.

  “Emma, are you ready?” Payton called out, still in the stall.

  “I’ve given myself a pep talk, I did my deep-breathing exercises, I did my focus yoga pose, and I stretched,” I answered. “Yes, Payton. YES! I AM READY! Woot! Let’s do it!”

  I gave a little fist pump in the air.

  “Um, I just meant are you ready, as in are you dressed?” Payton asked.

  “Oh,” I said. “Yes. Yes, I am.”

  “Then can you help me?” she said. “My earring is caught in my tank top.”

  I pushed the stall door open and—

  “Ack!” Payton said, her head sideways. She jerked her head up and rrriiip! I watched as the earring ripped the strap of her tank top.

  “I didn’t know you were just going to bust in here!” she said.

  “Well, you asked for help,” I said indignantly. “I thought that meant help me by entering, not by mental telepathy outside the stall. Okay, hang on.”

  “I am hanging on,” Payton said, pointing to her hand holding her tank strap.

  I could take care of that. I reached into my tote bag and into the zipped-up case of supplies. There it was! Duct tape! And safety scissors.

  “Did you know that duct tape was first invented in World War Two to help the American military?” I asked Payton as she wrapped her strap.

  “Yes,” Payton said. “Because you told me that. And do you know when you told me that?”

  I suddenly remembered.

  “The Janitor’s Closet!” we both said at the same time.

  “The start of my middle school career.” Payton sighed. “Fortunately, it got better. And fortunately, my tank top is better too! Yeah!”

  She pulled on her red T-shirt. She went over to the mirror and pulled her hair up in a high ponytail just like mine. I stood next to her. We stood side by side, dressed exactly the same.

  “If I shrunk down to be one inch shorter,” Payton said, slouching down, “we’d be pretty much exactly the same.”

  “And if your hair were less shiny,” I responded.

  “Hey!” Payton swatted me.

  “Shiny, shiny—” I started.

  “—double the shiny,” she finished. “Hmmm, is that our rallying cry?”

  “No,” I said. “It’s . . . go, GECKOS! Twin!” I punched the air. And added a little jump.

  Time to go show those triplets what the Mills Twins can do!

  “Emma,” Payton said. “We will soon be on film. Please don’t do that again. It’s embarrassing to both of us.”

  “Okay.” I shrugged. “If you think my team spirit is embarrassing, perhaps you might want to know you have yellow duct tape sticking out of your T-shirt.”

  “Eep!” Payton shoved it back in the neck of her shirt.

  “I have an idea. Let’s both try not to embarrass ourselves or each other,” I said, checking the schedule. “Although now that I see our first challenge, that could prove difficult. It’s called Dizzy Ploozy.”

  “What the heck is Dizzy Ploozy?” Payton asked.

  Challenge #1: Dizzy Ploozy

  It turned out that Dizzy Ploozy involved putting our foreheads down on a Wiffle ball bat and walking in a circle around and around the bat fifteen times. Then running across the field to the finish line blindfolded.

  “O-kay,” I said, then geared myself up for the competition.

  “Be careful of your vibulator issues,” Payton said with a smile.

  “That’s vestibular,” I told her. “And now I can prove to everyone that I don’t have any.”

  A girl with a Multipalooza staff T-shirt brought us each Wiffle ball bats and blindfolds. Other staffers handed out supplies to all the multiples who were competing.

  There were a
lot of them.

  “We’re in it to win it,” I reminded my twin. “Or at least to beat those triplets.”

  “Ready.” Payton looked determined. We pulled the blindfolds over our eyes.

  A man announced the rules over a microphone. The winning team would be the first team to have two of its members cross the finish line.

  “On your marks . . . get set . . . ,” the announcer said. “Go!”

  I rested my forehead on the bat and started circling.

  “One! Two!” the crowd started counting. The loud crowd. A lot of people were watching us.

  I used my calm, centered, focused attention and breathed steadily in and out as I went around and around.

  “Fourteen! Fifteen!”

  And I was off! Off balance, that is. I hesitantly took a step. And another. Whoa. I was in a world of darkness that rotated rapidly.

  I soldiered forth. Another step. And then I heard people yelling.

  “Payton! Wrong way! Payton! Turn around!”

  I didn’t recognize those voices. Boy, people were really rooting for us.

  “Payton!” I said. “Turn around!”

  “I haven’t gone anywhere yet!” Payton shrieked. “I’m too dizzy!”

  That made no sense. But whatever.

  “Just breathe and walk!” I yelled.

  Suddenly I heard shouts.

  “Emma! Turn around! Wrong way!”

  Oops. I must have gotten mixed up while talking. I turned 180 degrees and step-by-step, I was walking! And then I was practically jogging! I could do this!

  “Emma! Watch out to your left!” someone yelled. I heard other people being told, “Left! Right! Get back up!” But I just focused on my name and veered to the right.

  “No, Emma! Go left!”

  “Payton! Go right!”

  What? I was getting mixed messages. I stumbled left, then I confidently went forward.

  “Payton, right! Right, Payton!”

  Were they telling my twin to go right or was she doing it right? I hoped it was the latter, because I HAD to be near the finish line—

  Wham!

  I collided with something and fell backward on my rear end.

  “And the winning team is . . . ,” the announcer was saying. “And second place is about to cross the line . . .”

  Ergh. We’d lost. I pulled up my blindfold and saw—Payton. She was sitting on the ground next to me, with her blindfold off.

  “We crashed,” she said. “Into each other.”

  “I don’t get it,” I complained. “I was following the crowd’s directions!”

  “So was I,” said Payton. We helped each other up and wobble-walked toward our friends on the sidelines.

  “I guess the triplets won this one,” Payton said.

  “Or not,” I said, starting to smile. All three boys were lying on the field. I stepped over one of them.

  “What happened?” I looked down innocently.

  “I couldn’t make it past twelve,” one triplet admitted. “And my brothers were too dizzy and gave up.”

  Gave up?

  “So nobody wins!” I exclaimed. “Team Mills and Team SuperTwins are tied zero-zero!”

  “Ha!” I said to Payton as we continued on. “They must have looked so embarrassing. At least we got somewhere!”

  “Yeah,” Payton said. “And Nick was filming, so they got that all on tape!”

  We reached our friends.

  Who were, for some reason, looking at us and laughing hysterically.

  “What’s so funny?” I asked.

  “You two are . . .” Cashmere tried to talk. “You both are . . .” She couldn’t finish, she was giggling so much.

  “We’re what?” Payton and I said at the same time.

  “You’re wearing the wrong T-shirt!” Sydney was doubled over laughing.

  Huh?

  “We’re wearing matching Multipalooza shirts,” I said, confused.

  “Turn around,” Ox said, grinning.

  Payton turned around, and that’s when I saw it. On her back, in black letters, it read:

  EMMA

  “Oh no,” I groaned. “Mine says PAYTON, doesn’t it?” I craned my neck and looked. Yes. Yes, it did.

  “We didn’t see that there was anything on the back of the shirts!” Payton wailed.

  “You two mixed yourselves up. You didn’t even know which one of you was which!” Ox said, trying not to crack up. And failing.

  “I could barely keep the camera from shaking, I was laughing so hard,” Nick said, gasping for breath.

  Mason and Jason simply rolled around on the ground, laughing.

  Okay, fine. Let’s move forward, shall we?

  Challenge #2: Multipaloo-Trivia

  This next one, we’ve got locked up.

  I’d been on a game show recently—in Hollywood! I’d done quite well. Sure, I’d been covered with green ooze at the end, but still! This time, I planned to do even better. Payton and I had to win this one.

  “Welcome to Multipaloo-Trivia!” the announcer said into a microphone. “We have our panel of contestants lined up.”

  Now this felt like a real competition. We were onstage, in seats facing the audience, like at a spelling bee or a Mathletes competition. It felt like home to me.

  “Emma,” Payton whispered. “This feels really weird being up here, with all these people staring at us.”

  Apparently, it didn’t feel like home to Payton.

  “Payton,” I whispered. “You’ve been onstage for plays and even off-Broadway. You’ll be just fine.”

  “But they couldn’t see us so close up. Don’t sneeze or sweat.” Payton tilted her head. What was she talking about? I turned around and—

  Yikes! An enormous movie-theater-style screen had come down behind us, and yes, there we were. Live and in color. Perhaps HD. As the camera panned across the panel, I could see two of the triplets’ smug grins, large and supersized. I planned to wipe those smiles right off their faces. Oh, and then I saw Payton’s giant face and then the side of my head, looking at the screen behind me.

  Oops. Live camera. I spun around and smiled at the audience. A nice, confident, winning smile.

  The announcer announced, “Let’s give a cheer for Team Number One: Dexter and Oliver—the SuperTwins!”

  Dexter and Oliver stood up and waved.

  From the audience, Sydney and Cashmere (and okay, maybe one or more other naive girls) squealed at them. Asher was standing next to Cashmere, and he gave her a high five.

  Then the announcer continued.

  Team #2: Random Twins!

  Team #3: The Mills Twins!

  Team #4: Oh boy. It was two of the black-curly-haired triplets Payton had interviewed. Gia, Ria, and Mean Girl. Mean Girl gave me a squinty look. I gave her my competition stare. Oh, it’s on, Mean Triplet. It’s on!

  Payton and I waved at the audience. I could see Ox give me a thumbs-up and Nick with his camera on. Mason and Jason were jumping up and down.

  “We’ll ask you questions, and whoever hits the buzzer first gets a point!”

  I took a deep breath. I focused. I went into competition mode.

  Question #1: How many twins live in the United States today?

  I hit the button.

  “Four and a half million!” I answered.

  “And that is correct!” the announcer said. “One point for the Mills Twins! Next question: What is the scientific study of multiple births called?”

  BAM!

  “Gemellology,” I said. “From the Latin gemellus for ‘twin’ and the Greek logos for ‘science.’ ”

  Correct!

  “What is the name of the classic movie twins who—” Uh-oh.

  Slam! Mean Triplet beat me. “Parent Trap!”

  “Yay, Lia!” Gia or Ria cheered her on.

  Team #4 was obviously my competition. I was ready for the next question.

  Bam! Mine. Slam! Mean Triplets.

  The rest of the game was a blur. Questions
were fast and furious.

  “And the final tally is: Team Number One has five points,” the announcer said. “Team Number Two has ten, Team Number Four has sixty, and the winners are . . .

  “With eighty-five points . . . Team Number Three! The Mills Twins!”

  Oh. Yeah. I could conquer two sets of triplets today. If you were gonna mess with the Mills twins, you were going down.

  “Um, Emma?” Payton piped up. “Can you stop with the victory awkward-dance? We’re about to be on film.”

  The VOGS crew ran over and started filming us. I smiled my best competition smile at the VOGS camera.

  “Twins, one; boy-band-wanna-be triplets, zero,” I said. Payton and I did our twin hand-clap-slap.

  Heh heh heh.

  Okay. No time to rest on our laurels.

  “The momentum is in our favor,” I said to Payton. “The next competition is OURS! Woo-hoo! Woo—”

  “The next competition is the Three-Legged Race,” Payton interrupted me.

  Woo . . . uh-oh.

  Twenty-one

  IN COMPETITION

  “Let’s see if you twins can even walk without falling over!” The triplets were shouting smack at us at the starting line of the Three-Legged Race. I was leaning over, wrapping a rope around one of my legs and one of Emma’s.

  “Who told the triplets we were totally uncoordinated?” Emma grumbled. “I bet it was Sydney. Maybe Jazmine James filled them in about my vestibular disorder.”

  “Or maybe it was that the triplets first saw you walk into a door, then fall, and smack your head against the ground?” I reminded her.

  “Okay, the rope is tied,” I said, pulling it tightly. “Let’s practice. We have to wrap our arms around each other and coordinate.”

  We both stood up. I was facing one way, Emma was facing the other. We waddled around . . . in a circle. Wait a minute.

  “Aren’t we supposed to be facing the same way?” I asked. Before Emma could answer, we toppled over onto the grass. I looked up to see the tech girl filming us, and Nick laughing behind her.

  “Cut!” Nick said. “Um, you tied both of your left legs together.”

  “You’re supposed to tie my left leg and your right leg,” Emma said.

  Oops.