Ox bent down, his face coming closer to mine. Was he going to kiss me? He wasn’t going to kiss me, was he? Not now! Not in front of all these people! I mean, it was all romantic and Ox was awesome, but I was only twelve, and I wasn’t quite ready and . . .
“Emma,” Ox said into my ear.
Oh! He was just going to say something to me.
“Did you know that an Emmox is a hybrid of intelligence and fun?” he said.
“Really?” I said. “I didn’t know—”
Then I got it. Our own private mashup name.
“Oh . . . definitely,” I said happily. “That’s the coolest hybrid of all.”
As the song ended, people started clapping around us. I stared into Ox’s eyes.
“Dip me,” I said in my most confident, competition-challenge voice.
And although I didn’t know what I was doing, Ox gently leaned me back over his arm and dipped me.
And as he held me in his strong, muscley arms, I saw—upside down—Payton and Nick smiling at us and clapping. I smiled back and mouthed, “Squee!”
“Woot, Emma!” my twin said and punched the air.
I closed my eyes and smiled. Best. Romantic. Moment. Ever.
Twenty-five
MONDAY AFTER SCHOOL
We all huddled around the television monitor in the VOGS room.
“Good morning, Geckos!” Ahmad, the VOGS anchor, said on the television. “It’s Tuesday, and we have a lot of news today.”
It was actually still Monday, and it was after school. Mrs. Burkle had let us stay for a sneak preview of the VOGS cast that would be shown tomorrow morning at school.
“First,” Ahmad reported, “it’s Pasta Feasta day in the cafeteria, so come get your noodle on!”
I fidgeted in my chair.
“Are you so excited, Payton?” Tess asked. “Your first VOGS story on your own?”
“Excited, but also nervous and bracing myself,” I said. “This has the potential to be very embarrassing.”
I looked over at Emma. She was leaning on Ox’s legs, peeking through her fingers.
“I can hardly look,” Emma said.
“Nick, reassure us,” I said.
“I promise you that the worst of it was edited out,” Nick said. “Beyond that, no promises.”
I smacked him lightly, and he grinned. We watched a segment about the new fire alarm system and then . . . There we were! Emma and me, in our colorful jackets!
“Squee!” I said. “And eek!”
Emma leaned forward. We both watched intently.
“We’re live from Multipalooza!” On-screen Me said. “A festival for twins, triplets, and multiple identicals! I’m Payton! And this is my identical twin . . .”
“Emma!” Emma was on-screen now. “Have you ever wondered what’s it like to have an identical twin or triplet? We’ll be asking some of these thousands of people here.”
The camera panned across the crowd. Suddenly, a now-familiar zombie face jumped up and started waving wildly at the camera.
“Tate!” Emma laughed. “I didn’t know we were video-bombed by Tate!”
“And if you haven’t wondered that,” I was saying on camera, “perhaps you’ll enjoy watching your fellow students humiliate themselves! Because I think that’s going to happen today! Emma and I are challenging three of our newest Gecko classmates to an Identicals competition.”
Emma and I both groaned.
“I can’t look,” I said. I buried my head in my arms and then peeked out.
“That’s right—we have challenged Dexter, Oliver, and Asher, otherwise known as the SuperTwins, to a Multipalooza competition,” Emma said.
And there we were!
First, at the Dizzy Plooza!
“Ohhhh!” Everyone in the room laughed and groaned and laughed. Mostly, I groaned. Embarrassing, painful—but excellent television.
Then there we were at the Multipaloo-Trivia. We all cheered as Emma hit buzzer after buzzer and won the game for us.
“We redeemed ourselves,” Emma said.
Then the triplets zooming past us in the Three-Legged Race, as Emma and I fell flat on our faces.
“We unredeemed ourselves,” I laughed.
Then the Tug-of-War! Nick got hilarious close-up shots of our ridiculous team—Mason and Jason with lizard face paint, the zombie kids, and us, trying so hard against the other team.
“That’s painful!” Quinn said.
But then a shriek! And Mascot the Gecko had jumped on Dexter’s head, and we all started howling with laughter! We were laughing so hard that Nick had to hit pause.
And then, the final Tug-of-War, where we all worked together on one team.
“Go, Geckos!” we all cheered at the end.
Then the scene shifted, and just Emma and I were on camera together. We had changed outfits.
“Ugh,” I groaned. “This is when we have to do our wager because we lost. This is painful.”
“I am wearing a T-shirt that says ‘Triplets Are Three Times as Awesome,’ Emma said, with a fake smile on her face.
“Mine says ‘Triplets Rock!’ Because Asher, Dexter, and Oliver really rock,” I said. “SuperTwins rock.”
“Triplets rule over Twins,” Emma and I recited stiffly.
Suddenly a caption scrolled across the screen: These statements are the result of a wager. They may or may not represent the views of VOGS anchors or staff.
“Who did that?” Emma asked. I shrugged.
“Well, I figured it was journalistic integrity to be truthful,” Nick said, and shrugged. “The viewers had a right to know.”
We all laughed. I leaned over and gave Nick a hug.
The scene changed back to the middle of the festival. We saw faces of different people, people who looked alike and were dressing alike to celebrate being twins.
On-Screen Me began talking: “So let’s find out what it’s like to be an identical! There are over a thousand identicals here today, but I’ll start by asking my own twin.”
“That’s a hard question to answer,” Emma said. “I’ve never NOT been an identical, so I have nothing to compare it to.”
“I thought you would answer it’s the best thing in the world because you had me for a twin.” I pretended to be disappointed.
“Sure, we’ll go with that,” Emma said with a grin.
“Let’s ask our fellow Geckos: Asher, Dexter, and Oliver,” I said. The camera panned over to the triplets. “What’s it like being an identical?”
“Awesome,” two of them answered. “You get a lot of attention.”
“Although sometimes, you want to be an individual, so then it can be a pain,” one said. Yep, that definitely would be Asher.
“Let’s see what everyone else thinks!” On-Screen Emma said.
We went to interview people in the crowd.
“One of the coolest things about being a twin is that there’s always someone who gets what you’re talking about,” a twin said.
“You have people that get you,” said a certain zombie princess, with her zombie brother and sister.
“I love freaking people out when they don’t know we’re triplets,” the triplet girls with the black curly hair said.
“You always have a best friend,” another twin said.
The camera went back to me and Emma, standing together.
“That’s all from our special on-the-scene VOGS cast,” I said. “I’m Payton and this is—”
“I’m Emma,” Emma said, interrupting me.
“You’re supposed to just say Emma,” I hissed at her.
“I didn’t know,” Emma said. “What do you think, I can read your mind or something? Twin telepathy?”
. . . and the screen went dark and everyone clapped. Emma and I most of all.
Twenty-six
AFTER SCHOOL
“What are Mom and Dad doing standing on our front porch?” I asked Payton. We’d just gotten off the bus and walked home from the bus stop.
“
I have no idea,” Payton said. She waved to them. They waved back.
“They’re smiling,” I observed. “So it’s not bad news.”
“Happy half birthday!” our parents called out.
I stopped. And did a quick calculation in my head. “We’re twelve and a half today!” I said. With everything going on, we’d forgotten the Mills family tradition of celebrating the halfway point between birthdays.
Payton stopped too. “Only six months away from being teenagers!” she exclaimed. We looked at each other.
Wow. Teenage twins . . . Twin teens . . .
“Emma! Payton!” Mom shouted. “Hurry!”
We hurried. All the way to our house and into our parents’ arms. Because they grabbed us for hugs.
“Moom,” Payton said. “You’re smothering me. In public.”
“I gave my father a squeeze and extricated myself from his grasp. I opened the front door and went inside, Payton right behind me. For a moment there was only the sound of our backpacks falling to the floor. Then . . .
“SQUEEEEEEEEE!!!”
My sister squealed the world’s longest squee. I just stood there with my mouth open.
On the floor were two baskets. One had a pink bow, and the other had a blue bow. Peeking out from each basket—fluffy white fur and a pair of blue eyes.
Two baskets. Two . . .
“Kittens!” Payton and I shrieked.
“They’re twins,” Mom said. “Actually, twin girls.”
“Twin kitties!” Payton sighed.
“Is the one with the blue bow for me?” I asked tentatively. I mean, we’d been pestering our parents about getting a pet for years. It seemed too good to be true.
“Happy half birthday!” Dad said. “And the one with the pink bow is for Payton. We got those colors right, didn’t we?”
“Yes! Thank you!” Payton and I responded. We raced over to the baskets and sat down on the floor. Our parents continued on toward the kitchen, both smiling.
“Mew.” My kitten—my kitten!—looked up at me and blinked. I put my face close to hers.
She gazed back at me. She looked intelligent.
“I’m going to name her Twinkle!” Payton said. I looked over and saw her kitten climbing out of its basket. “Her eyes are so twinkly! Emma, what are you going to name yours?”
“Einstein,” I said.
“Einstein?” my sister said. “That’s not a girl’s name!”
I carefully picked up my kitten. She snuggled into my arms as I walked over to Payton.
“Okay,” I said. “Princess Einstein. Called Einstein.”
“Twinkle and Einstein.” Payton sounded a bit doubtful. But then I put my kitten down near hers, and the two put their noses together.
“They’re kissing!” said Payton. Then the kittens started playing with each other, rolling around on the floor.
And I admit it. I squeed.
Twenty-seven
TWO SECONDS LATER
Emma picked up her kitten and snuzzled it by her face.
“Um, are you sure about the name Einstein?” I asked.
“She likes Einstein,” Emma said, turning to her kitten. “Don’t you?”
“Mew,” said her kitten.
“See? It’s unanimous.” My twin nodded firmly.
I scooped up Twinkle, who started purring like a little motor. “Presenting Twinkle and Einstein, the kitten twins,” I said, holding Twinkle up.
“Or Einstein and Twinkle,” Emma said. “Hey, do you think they’re identical?”
We looked at each other’s little fluffball and then back at our own.
“Well, mine’s nose is a little more pink,” said Emma. “And she’s slightly larger than yours.”
“Mine has a teensy bit bigger eyes,” I observed. “And her tail is a little fluffier.”
“The differences are infinitesimal,” Emma said. “Therefore, I now pronounce you identical twin kittens!”
Just then, both kittens let out a big “MEW!”
I looked at Emma, and we both laughed.
“Twinx!” we said, our version of “jinx.”
Twenty-eight
LATER THAT NIGHT
“Can you believe it’s only been a few months since we started middle school?” Payton asked me.
“It sure has been eventful,” I agreed.
We were home in our bedroom, Payton sitting on her bed with Twinkle, me lying down on mine with Einstein. It was nighttime, but neither of us could sleep. This was one of the times that made being a twin special. Just the two of us, talking about things no one else in the world would understand.
“I was trying so hard to fit in,” Payton mused, dangling a piece of string so Twinkle could play with it. “And then . . . I oozed Ox.”
“With a flying burrito,” I remembered, laughing. Einstein was curled up against my neck, purring contentedly.
“And that,” Payton said, “was the beginning of . . .”
“Twin Switches!” we both said at the same time.
“Twinx!” Then we sat in silence for a moment, just relaxing.
“Emma,” my twin said. “Remember our first switch in the Janitor’s Closet?”
“How could I forget?” I said.
“You’re going to pretend to be me?” Payton had asked.
“Yes! I can be Payton with her head held up high,” I had told her. “Me, ‘Payton’ Mills. Well, for one afternoon anyway. That’s just four periods.”
“Let’s do it,” Payton had said.
“And then we switched the next day on purpose,” I remembered. “And you met Nick and told off Jazmine James in my math class.”
“And you met Ox and showed off your new fashion skills to Sydney and Cashmere at the mall,” Payton added.
“And I met Quinn,” I said happily. “My first real friend.” I scratched Einstein behind her ears, and she closed her eyes.
“But then the next day, things got all out of control with your crazy P equals E, E equals P chart,” my twin said, while Twinkle pounced on the string and batted it around with her paws.
“You did meet Tess and get involved with VOGS,” I reminded her. “So it wasn’t a total disaster.”
“You’re right!” Payton smiled. “But then . . .”
“Jazmine James!” We both groaned. “Twinx!” Einstein opened one eye, then closed it again.
“Jazmine outing us on the live broadcast in front of the whole school was bad enough, but then we had to go fight with each other while the camera was still rolling,” Payton continued.
“So embarrassing.” I winced.
“Humiliating,” Payton agreed.
“But then we redeemed ourselves by doing that truthful VOGS cast, and everything turned out okay,” I said.
“Better than okay.” Payton smiled.
I yawned, finally feeling a little sleepy. My twin and her kitten still seemed wide awake.
“But things got worse again,” she said. “Our punishment for switching. Mine resulted in Sydney dumping a bucket of dirty water on my head.”
“Right,” I remembered. It led to our next Twin Switch. “And just after that, I did my first community service and met . . .”
“Mason and Jason!” We both giggled. “Twinx!”
“And our friend, Mascot the Gecko.” I rolled my eyes.
“Girls!” Our mom poked her head through the door. “It’s late. Go to sleep.”
“Good night,” our dad said from the hallway.
“Good night, Mom! Good night, Dad!” I picked up Einstein and got out of bed. I carefully placed my kitten in her new bed. Payton carried her kitty over and put her down in the same bed. Payton and I stood there looking at the two little fluffballs, now both asleep.
“How adorable are they?” Payton said.
“Cutest kittens ever,” I agreed. I turned off the light and climbed back in bed.
Our room was dark and quiet. Until I heard the flump of Payton flopping down in bed.
“Remember t
he Glinda bubble?” I whispered. This memory cracked Payton up.
“The Wizard of Oz play!” she snorted. “When I went under the stage to rescue Mascot . . .”
“And I had to go onstage in your place,” I continued her sentence. “Performing as Glinda the Good Witch in her giant plastic bubble! Thank goodness you were able to switch back and finish the play. Which you were really good at. Hey, when we grow up, do you want to be an actor?”
“Maybe,” Payton said. “I mean, I had such an amazing time in Hollywood acting in the shampoo commercial.”
“Shiny, shiny, double the shiny,” we both said, and then said, “TWINX!”
One of the kittens made a little “meow” sound.
“Shhh,” I said.
We were quiet for a moment.
“And then we ran into Ashlynn from summer camp . . . ,” Payton whispered.
“Summer slave camp for you,” I whispered back. “But then Ashlynn got what she deserved, and you got to fall into Dustin Weaver’s arms.”
“More like fall on Dustin Weaver,” Payton said. “But still, who’d have imagined I’d be that close to an actual celebrity? He was such a hottie.”
“Cuter than Nick?” I teased.
“Ha-ha,” my twin said. “Nick is totally cute and nice and fun and—when I went on that Ferris wheel in Times Square with him? That was . . . squee!”
“That whole trip to New York City was ‘squee.’ ” I smiled.
“You said ‘squee,’ ” Payton laughed quietly. “It sounds funny coming from a New York City math champion!”
“I did rock the Mathletes competition.” I grinned. “First place! Oh yeah! I won!”
“That was awesome,” Payton said. “But you know what my favorite part of our New York City trip was?”
“Embarrassing Sydney in front of a live, off-Broadway audience?” I guessed.
“No, although she totally deserved it,” Payton said. “It was when you and I were sitting together on top of the double-decker bus touring New York City. The sights and sounds and city breeze through our hair . . .”
“The tree branch in your face,” I giggled.
“Okay, maybe not that,” my twin said.
“Just kidding,” I said. “That was an amazing time, wasn’t it?”
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