“We’re doomed,” I told Emma.
“Don’t give up,” Emma said. “Don’t ever give up. But first, get up.”
Two of the triplets, along with about a hundred other people, were already tied together, practicing walking in unison. We struggled to untie ourselves, then retied us together the correct way. When I stood up, Emma put her arm around me, and we got ourselves balanced.
“Participants, line up!” a referee yelled out.
Emma and I stumbled to the starting line.
“Start with your left, then pace yourself to a rhythm,” Emma said. “Like, twinkle, twinkle, little star; left, right, left, right . . .”
“Twin-kle, Twin-kle!” I brightened up. “Our twin song. We’re going to twin-kle like stars!”
The triplets team walk-hopped up and stood next to us in line.
“Did you tie the correct legs together this time?” one of the triplets asked us.
Rats, they saw that.
“Ignore them,” Emma whispered. “They’re just trying to throw us off. Stay cool under the pressure.”
“On your marks,” the announcer called out. “Get set . . .”
“We go left first, right?” I asked Emma.
“Right,” Emma said.
Right? Right leg first or right that I was correct? I opened my mouth to ask Emma, but before I had a chance—
“Go!”
I jumped forward on my right foot. The rope pulled tightly, and Emma gave a little yelp as we lurched sideways and oof! I fell right on top of Emma. I looked up to see the triplets smoothly blowing right past us, with the rest of the hundreds of people.
Triplets:1, Twins:1
We were all tied up.
It all would come down to the Tug-of-War.
Challenge #3: Tug-of-War
The tiebreaker.
The Multipalooza Twins Versus Triplets Challenge would come down to a tug-of-war. We all walked toward the field where our Tug-of-War was scheduled to take place.
Nick was already there setting up his video camera. Ox, Sydney, and Cashmere were standing near him.
“Emma! Payton! Emma! Payton!”
I turned around to see Mason and Jason bouncing up to us. They were both face-painted to look like lizards. They were also holding balloon sculpture swords.
“Looks like you guys are having a good time,” I said to them.
“Guess what? Guess what?” Mason said, jumping all over in excitement. “I won a cake in the Cake Walk! And a goldfish in the Ping-Pong Ball Throw! I named him Mrs. Slurples!”
“I didn’t win anything,” Jason said, frowning. “He’s winning everything.”
“I’ve been there,” I said to Jason empathetically. “Emma is always winning things and not so much me.”
“Well, Payton and I are both going to win in a few minutes—together,” Emma said emphatically. “Mason and Jason, your dad is waving you over.”
“We’ll be cheering you on!” Mason said. “Be a winner—like me! Not Jason!”
Jason trudged off the field.
“Emma,” I said. “I’m not entirely clear on how this is going to work. Even if it’s only two triplets against us, there’s no way we can win.”
“When I feel like all hope is lost in a competition, I think of ways to psych out the other competitors,” Emma said. “Like when Jazmine James answered ‘parabola’ in Mathletes, and I said, ‘Sorry, but it’s inverse parabola.’ ”
Well. Emma certainly had more practice in competitions than I did. I’d have to trust she knew what she was doing.
“Oh, look!” Emma said. “Ready to be humiliated?”
The triplets walked up to us, grinning.
“We’re going to pull you into Loserville!” a triplet replied. “Multipla-losers!”
“You don’t stand a chance, Twin-kies,” another said. “Get it, TWIN-kies?”
“We have a few tricks up our sleeve. We use our brains, Subtriplicates!” Emma said. “Get it, SubTRIPLicates?”
I wasn’t the only one who looked confused. The triplets did as well.
“What’s a subtriplicate?” I whispered to Emma. “Is it really bad?”
“It’s when a ratio is expressed by its cube root,” Emma whispered back. “I’m trying to psych them out with our brainpower.”
“Yeah!” I yelled. “You guys are subtriplicates!”
“What are you talking about?” a triplet asked us.
“You’re not intelligent enough to understand, you Triploblasty,” Emma shot back. She turned to me and whispered. “That means having three germ layers: ectoderm, mesoderm, and endoderm. Ha! Germs as an insult! I’m good.”
Well, she was definitely good at pumping herself up. And confusing the rest of us.
“Attention, participants!” an announcer announced. “All Tug-of-War teams please report to the sign-in table!”
We followed the Triplets up to the table. And that’s where things got really confused. “Team member names?” a woman behind the table asked.
“Dexter and Asher,” one of the triplets said.
“And . . . ?” the woman asked.
“And . . . versus Emma and Payton?” Emma leaned forward to tell her.
“Your team is Dexter, Asher, Emma, Payton, and . . . ,” the woman said.
“No, no!” We practically all yelled.
“We’re competing against them,” a triplet said.
“You need six people on each team,” the woman said.
We do?
“And quickly, because you only have three minutes for sign-ups,” the woman said.
“Quick, we need more people,” the triplets said.
“Ox!” I said to Emma. “We need Ox! He’ll win this for us!”
“He does have strong muscles,” Emma said dreamily. Then she snapped back.
“Well, that’s not really fair competition because then it’s not Twins Versus Triplets,” a triplet complained.
“You’re right,” Emma suddenly said. “Okay, we’ll go round up official multiples. Meet us back here in two minutes.”
The triplets looked at one another and took off. Emma and I ran too.
“Um, Emma,” I said, jogging beside her. “Where are we going?”
Emma stopped. “I have no idea. I just couldn’t give up and give the triplets the satisfaction. But we don’t really know anybody else here, do we?”
Emma and I looked at each other. We looked around. Nope.
“Well,” Emma said. “I guess that’s that.”
“Payton! Emma! We’re going to cheer for you in the Tug-of-War!” Mason and Jason ran up to us.
“Sorry, boys,” I said. “Looks like we won’t be competing.”
“Unless we just ask random people in the crowd,” Emma suggested.
“We’ll be on the team!” Mason said. “We’re tough and strong!”
“Not saying you’re not,” Emma said carefully. “But we’d be competing against the triplets and whoever else they find. Thanks anyway.”
“You think we can’t handle it?” Jason puffed up his chest.
“Um . . .” I thought fast. “We still need two more people on the team in about thirty seconds, so I don’t think it will work out.”
Mason and Jason looked at each other and walked away.
“I feel bad,” I said. “It was nice of them to offer. Do you think their feelings are hurt? Are they off crying somewhere?”
“No,” said Emma slowly. “No, they’re definitely not crying.”
I turned around to see Mason and Jason half-dragging two people toward us, followed by another one.
“We have our team!” Mason said. “Two more people! They said yes!”
Um. The two more people were two of the triplets we’d interviewed before. The ones who were about Mason and Jason’s age. The ones in zombie costumes. Still in zombie costumes.
“What do we do?” I said under my breath to Emma. “We’re going to be laughed off the stage. That is, after we get pulled into
Loserville.”
“We’re so excited!” the zombie girl said. “I can’t believe that we can help you guys out! The ‘Shiny, Shiny Double the Shiny’ TV stars!”
“Tate recognized you from the shampoo commercial after we talked to you,” the zombie boy said. “Can we have your autographs after we do the Tug-of-War?”
“I can’t wait to tell everyone in school we were on a team with television stars!” Tate said.
Emma and I looked at each other.
“We better hurry,” Emma sighed. “So we don’t miss the sign-ups.”
“You have got to be kidding,” a triplet said when we’d regrouped at the sign-in table.
“We’re gonna pull you guys across the line so fast, you won’t know what hit you!” Mason said to them.
“Yeah!” said Tate, the zombie-costumed girl. “In your face!”
“Wait a minute,” one of the triplets suddenly said. “Nobody told me we have to compete against zombies. What if you try to eat my brains?”
He recoiled in mock horror.
“That’s Asher,” Emma whispered to me. “He’s actually pretty nice.”
I guess that was one good thing about our team of nine-year-olds. The triplets couldn’t really trash-talk us too hard.
“Well, who’s on your team?” Jason challenged them.
All three triplets lined up. Then a set of large twin guys in matching T-shirts with rock bands on them.
“Wait, you need six people,” Jason pointed out.
Then another large guy with a rock band T-shirt joined them.
We were doomed.
“I’m here! I’m here!” Cashmere pushed through the crowd.
Cashmere?
“You can’t do Tug-of-War,” I said.
Cashmere pulled a little spray bottle out of her hoodie pocket and started spritzing the triplets’ team.
“Hey!” they all yelped. “What are you doing?”
“Sydney didn’t want you guys to be too stinky for the dance, so she told me to spray you with this scented body spray.” Cashmere skipped away.
“Are we glittering?” a triplet looked at his arm. “Was that body glitter?”
“Yep,” a big rock band guy said. “We’re glittering. Smell pretty sweet too.”
“All Tug-of-War teams, please report to your assigned station!”
“Good luck, Glittering Triplets,” Emma said, smiling at them.
We all headed over to where the teams were and split up at the ends of the rope. Nick and the tech crew came over to film us.
“Go, SuperTwins!” Sydney held up her sign.
“Go, Geckos!” Mrs. Burkle called out.
“There are Geckos on both sides,” I called to Mrs. Burkle.
“Then I’m rooting for both of you!” she said. “And for good television!”
“Go, Zombies!” The zombie princess had brought her parents.
Our team lined up at one end of the rope.
“The strongest of us should be the anchor,” Jason said. We all looked at one another. We were Emma, me, and four nine-year-olds.
“I guess that’s me!” Jason said, flexing. He grabbed the back of the rope as we all sighed.
“Shoulda been me,” Mason grumbled. “I’ll be up front and intimidate them with my scary face.”
“We have scary faces too!” the zombie kids growled and roared. Oh yes, our team was going to be . . . intimidating.
We faced off:
Triplet—Rock Guy—Rock Guy—
Triplet—Rock Guy—Triplet
VERSUS
Mason—Me—Zombie Princess—
Zombie Boy—Emma—Jason
“All teams,” the announcer yelled. “On your marks . . .”
I held on to the rope tight.
“Get set . . . GO!”
“PUUUuuuullll!” Jason yelled. And we pulled! I pulled as hard as I could. And for one split second, I thought we were holding our ground.
Then the other team pulled.
Uh-oh.
My feet tried to dig into the grass, but I felt myself slipping forward. We were losing ground fast.
“We’re losing! I’m almost over the line already!” Mason sounded panicky. In front of me, I could see him pulling so hard that his cap was falling off.
And underneath his cap? It was something . . . moving! And then I saw it.
“Mason,” I said, through clenched teeth. “Did you bring Mascot?” The gecko? He brought his pet gecko?
Before he had a chance to answer, Mascot saw something glint in the sunlight. It was the arms of the triplet in the front! Covered in sparkly body glitter. The gecko leaped toward the sparkly glittered arm . . .
“Mascot!” Mason yelped. “Get back in my hat!”
“He had Mascot in his hat?” I heard Emma say. We were still holding on!
“In a special climate-controlled small cage that I invented that fits in his hat,” Jason answered. Still. Holding. The rope.
“Impressive,” Emma said. “PULL!”
Meanwhile—
“AGH! WHAT IS ON ME?” the triplet in the front was shrieking. “GET THAT OFF ME!”
The triplet dropped the rope and started trying to shoo Mascot off of him. Mascot jumped to his head. The triplet started screaming and running in circles. Mason chased after him.
This is where I hoped that the other team would be distracted, allowing us to pull them toward us, and we would WIN in a stunning underdog upset.
That did not happen. Even without a triplet, we were YANKED forward over the finish line.
We all tumbled forward on top of one another: me, Emma, Jason, and two zombie children. Sigh.
“We win!” the other team was hooting and yelling. “We win!”
“Good job, dudes.” The triplets high-fived the random rocker dudes, who grinned and left, victorious. Dexter, Asher, and Oliver ran up to us.
“We win! We win the Multipalooza Twins Versus Triplets Challenge!”
Twenty-two
AFTER COMPETITION
“You win.” I sighed, holding out my hand to shake. Ergh, I hated saying those words. But you win some and you lose some. A hard lesson I’d had to learn these past few months. But now I knew—it’s not all about winning; it’s also how you play the game.
Two triplets still danced around hooting. One triplet shook my hand.
“Good effort,” Asher said. “Well, interesting effort anyway.”
“I’ve got Mascot back,” Mason said, and patted his hat. “He’s okay, but he’s bummed that we lost.”
“I’m hungry,” one of the zombies said. “Let’s go eat.”
“Brains?” Jason asked her.
“Nah, funnel cakes. Want to get some too?” the zombie asked the boys.
“Yeah!” Mason’s face brightened.
“Let’s go ask Mom and Dad!” Jason said, and they ran off.
“Mason and Jason and zombies,” I said. “A perfect combination.”
Meanwhile, the triplets were still celebrating. “You have to wear the T-shirts we pick!” they said, laughing. “And say ‘Triplets are better’ on the school video show!”
“SuperTwins rule!” Sydney cheered.
“Brava! Brava!” Mrs. Burkle came up to us. “This is going to be fantastic television. The underdogs in their eye-catching fashions! The moment that the lizard jumps onto the other team, and that team member shrieks like a small child.”
One of the two triplets stopped dancing.
“I didn’t shriek like a small child,” he said.
“So dramatic! Such excitement! Great job, Payton,” Mrs. Burkle said. “This could possibly be our best VOGS cast yet.”
“Thanks!” Payton squeaked. “Everyone did a great job. Emma, Lakiya, tech, even the triplets . . .”
“Payton,” I said, and hugged her, “remember how much you wanted to have a great VOGS cast? You came up with this idea, and you did it!”
Payton was beaming.
“Excuse me.” A man in a M
ultipalooza Staff T-shirt came up to us. “Please go back to your tug-of-war rope for the next round.”
“We just went,” Emma told him.
“Which team won?” the man asked. “The winning team gets to continue against a new team.”
“We’re the winning team!” the triplets all said. “But we don’t have half of our team! Those guys are gone!”
“Well, you’ll have to be disqualified then,” the staff guy said.
“Yeah, well, the SuperTwins have to perform soon anyway,” one of the triplets said. “Let’s head over to the main stage, bros.”
“Uh-oh. I think I’m going to puke,” a different triplet said. He was turning green. Must be Asher.
“What’s wrong?” Payton asked.
“It’s just . . . just . . . I have stage fright,” he blurted out. “Okay? I’m nervous. There. I said it.”
His brothers looked at him.
“Wimp! Wuss!” one of them jeered. “Get over it, Oliver!”
Wait a minute. Oliver?
“Oliver, you’re nervous too?” the triplet I realized was Asher asked. “I’m nervous as all heck.”
“Oh, don’t be nervous, Asher.” Cashmere put her hand on his arm. “You’re going to be wonderful!”
“Really?” Asher turned to her and blushed.
“Hey, I’m the one who’s nervous,” Oliver protested. “I’m the one who thinks we’re going to look like idiots and stink up the stage.”
“Toughen up, bros,” Dexter said.
“Yeah, toughen up,” Sydney said scornfully. “And don’t think you can use puking as an excuse to get out of the dance tonight either.”
Now Dexter looked a little ill too.
“Guys!” Nick jogged over with Ox behind him. “I just saw Mason and Jason. They’ve entered a contest, and the VOGS crew is setting up to film it.”
Final Multipalooza Competition (but one that doesn’t involve us): Multipaloo-Limbo
“Get ready to limbo!” the announcer announced. “How low can you go?!”
“Do you see them?” Payton asked. We were standing with Ox, Nick, and Lakiya on the sidelines. I looked for Mason and Jason in the long line of younger kids.
“There they are,” Nick said, turning his video camera toward the end of the line. “I can see them with my zoom lens. They’re right behind two of the zombies.”
That narrowed it down. I spotted them too. They were both hopping up and down from excitement.
Triple Trouble Page 11
