Trading Faces (25 page)

“Bummer. So how was the rest of your day?” I asked her.

“Exhausting,” she said. “Yours?”

“Heinous,” I replied. And it was only about to get worse. I was going on camera soon.

Nick came over to us.

“Um, hi, Nick,” Payton said, hesitantly.

“So,” Nick said impersonally, “do you want to both be on at the same time, or will we shoot you individually?”

Just shoot me now. Get this over with
.

“Together,” I said out loud.

“Two minutes!” Mrs. Burkle said. “Places, people!”

She shuffled Payton and me over to the big desk in front of the cameras. I sat down.

And reality sank in.

“Payton,” I said, “I can't do this. I'm having an attack. An attack of extreme technocameraphobia, which can
manifest as seizures, frozen limb syndrome, or otolaryngitis.”

“Sorry,” Payton said. “I've already had otolaryngitis, and let me tell you, it doesn't get you excused from things.”

I chewed my hair. I wasn't kidding, though. I was seriously nervous.

“Stop chewing.” Payton leaned over and pulled my hair out of my mouth. “You can't freak out. We rehearsed this at least five thousand times. We both know exactly what we're going to say.”

She was right. My nerves might have been shaky, but my memory would never fail me.

“Time to hook up your mikes,” Mrs. Burkle said. “We want to hear every word you say!”

She attached a tiny microphone to my collar and another to Payton's cami strap.

“Your clothes look cute,” I told Payton.

“I still can't believe
you
picked them out.” She shook her head. “You have this secret inner fashionista and I have to find out from the Sydney crew? Weird. You look cute too.”

Okay, so I was wearing my hair down instead of back in the old ponytail. And I'd applied some hair shine and lip gloss. A little effort on my part didn't detract from my intelligence, I'd decided.

But I was keeping the T-shirt and the sweats. They were part of what made me me. Okay, I'd upgraded the sweats to cute little track pants instead of floppy ones. But still. I was still me in them.

“One minute till our special report!” said Mrs. Burkle. “Breaking into all the classrooms, LIVE!”

The room lights dimmed. Except for one in the middle, which shone a spotlight on Payton and me.

“Quiet on the set!”

No problem there. My brain and mouth had frozen up.

“Three . . . two . . . one . . . action,” said Nick, aiming the camera.

A few bars of our school song played. Then there was silence.

“Welcome to a special edition of VOGS,” said Payton, like a pro. “I'm Payton Mills.”

“And I'm Emma Mills,” I managed to squeak out.

“As most of you know, we're the twins who switched places in school this week,” Payton continued confidently. She was so good at this, I thought.

Pause.

Oh! Oops. My turn.

“That's right, Payton.” I sounded stiff.

“We wanted everyone to know the truth,” Payton
said. She leaned in closer to the camera. “The inside story of what really happened.”

I noticed Mrs. Burkle clasping her hands with joy.

“The truth is that we were just going to switch for a couple of classes, and it was for a good cause,” Payton explained. “I had an . . . emergency. An embarrassing-moment emergency. If it was in a Most Embarrassing Moments column in a magazine, it would have been a ten out of ten. But then Emma saved me.”

“I offered to help her by taking her place.” I recited my lines. “Just for a little while. It seemed like no big deal. Nobody would ever know.”

“We never meant for it to get out of control,” Payton said. “So we want to apologize to all of the students and faculty, and especially to all of our new friends.”

I noticed the monitor off to the side of the room. It was showing the videocast. Except, wait . . .

“They mixed our names up!” I burst out.

“What?” Payton looked startled.

“Look! The names under us say that you're Emma and I'm Payton.” I pointed to the monitor. Sure enough, the captions were mixed up.

“Stick to the script,” my sister whispered.

“But wait—we're supposed to be showing everybody
our true selves, who we really are,” I complained. “How do we do that with the wrong names under our faces?”

I mean, really.
Couldn't the person in charge of the captions have paid a little attention here?
I sighed.

“Well, you're doing a good job of showing everyone your obsessing picky self,” Payton hissed.

“You mean that detail-oriented self?” I said. “The one that got your so-called friends to look so good at the mall? When I could have been doing something important like studying for a competition?”

“If I remember correctly,
you
were the one who ended up having fun at the mall,” Payton said. “Because—”

Oh no.
Don't say because of Ox. Not live on VOGS. Don't say—

“Because of reasons I won't name,” Payton continued.

Phew.
Thanks, Payton, for not going there
.

“Besides, you liked the mall,” Payton said. “I thought. You came home so happy.”

“I did?” I thought about it. “Yeah, I did. I kind of realized that life doesn't always have to be serious, and that fashion can be, well, fun. Maybe not as fun as winning a science competition, of course, but . . . fun in a different way. You know, Payton, having fun and expressing yourself creatively, whether with art or music
or even accessories, can be as important to the soul as any academic accomplishment.”

I sat back, feeling oddly calm.

“Wow,” Payton said. “That was deep.”

“Thank you,” I said, pleased.

“Emma's the smart one,” Payton said, turning back toward the camera. “I have to confess that I got sucked into switching places because . . . well, I've always been the dumb twin. And when I was pretending to be Emma, people treated me like I was smart. And . . . I liked it.”

“Well, being smart is cool, but being a nice person is even more important,” I said. I stared at the camera, hoping Jazmine James was listening. “And Payton is one of the nicest people I've ever met.”

“Aw, thanks, Emma,” Payton said. “That's so sweet. But you know, when I was pretending to be you, I also learned that being smart can be mad cool. You get treated with more respect around here. You get special passes to the library.”

I nodded. Too true.

“You know,” Payton went on, “you even have to be in honors to do VOGS. Seriously, does that seem fair? I mean, I really loved doing VOGS, and now I won't be able to do it. Well, for one thing because we have detention and I'm grounded for the rest of my life. But none of
us non-honors people get to be on TV. That's sad.”

“Ahem.” I heard someone clear her throat. It was Mrs. Burkle, looking slightly stunned at this turn of events.

“Twenty seconds!” Nick whispered from behind the camera. Oh! Our time was almost up!

“So just think about if you had the chance to be someone else for one day,” I said into the camera. This was from our script, but . . . I truly meant it. “Wouldn't you maybe try it out?”

“Seriously, we are way sorry if we confused anyone or made you mad,” Payton said. “We really made some good friends out there, and things just got a little crazy.”

“And now we just want things to get back to normal,” I added. “We just want to be ourselves. This is Emma Mills.”

“And Payton Mills. Signing off for this special edition of VOGS.”

I sat there with a stupid grin on my face, waiting for the camera's red light to go off.
Still waiting
. It was totally silent. Uh . . . was I supposed to say something now? I opened my mouth:

“Go, Geckos!” I said.

And the red light went out.

“Go, Geckos?” Payton said. “What was that?”

“I choked! I panicked! Why didn't the red light go off?”

“Uh . . . because we were rolling out the credits,” Nick said, peering out from behind the camera.

“Oh. Okay. Phew. That means no one heard me at the end, right?” I asked.

“Actually, the audio was still on,” Nick said. “So everyone in the school heard you.”

Payton let out a snort.

“Are you laughing at me?” I demanded.

“ ‘This is Emma “The Brain” Mills, signing off.' ” Payton giggled. “ ‘Go, Geckos!' ”

It was pretty funny.

I smiled.

“Nice work, Mills.” Mrs. Burkle came over. “And you too, Mills. Had all the ingredients for a compelling broadcast—mystery! Intrigue! Remorse! Humor! School spirit!”

We held it in until she walked away. Then Payton and I looked at each other. And we both burst out laughing until we were practically rolling on the floor.

Okay, yeah, we screwed up, and maybe nobody would talk to us again. But we had each other. And nothing could break our twin bond.

WEDNESDAY, END OF THE SCHOOL DAY

“Okay, yeah, we screwed up, and maybe nobody will talk to us again,” Emma said to me. “But we have each other. And nothing can break our twin bond.”

Awwww. That is so sweet! And so
 . . .

Wrong. I mean, no offense, Emma, twin bonds are great, but I definitely want people to talk to me again!

“Hey, Mills twins.” Nick came over from behind the camera. “Nice job.”

“Thanks,” we both said. At exactly the same time.

“And hey, Payton,” Nick said. “All that about you not being smart? What you've done with VOGS is definitely smart stuff.”

“Thanks!” I said. By myself this time.

Nick gave us a wave and walked away.

“Yay! Someone talked to us,” I said.

“He seems nice,” Emma said.

“Yeah,” I said. “I actually had him picked out for you as your future boyfriend. He seems like your type.”

“He does,” Emma said. “But . . .”

I knew what she was thinking. Football jock Ox didn't seem like her type. But he was.

“ . . . he seems like a good friend for you,” Emma finished.

“Yeah,” I said. One friend. Better than zero friends.

Clang!

The end of the school day.

“Time for our after-school, er, meeting,” I said. “Otherwise known as detention.”

“I cannot believe that I, Emma Mills, have to go to detention,” Emma grumbled.

“At least it's only a couple of days,” I said. “Then we do community-service hours.”

We walked around a corner. And smack into Quinn.

“Hi,” Quinn said.

“Uh, hi,” Emma said. “Look, I'm really sorry about switching.”

“I saw you on VOGS,” Quinn said. “And really, I get it. Some days I feel like trading places with someone else, too.”

Her cell phone rang.

“Yeah, Sydney, I'm coming. I had to stop at my locker! Look, I'm sorry!” Quinn's voice was rising. She shut her phone. “As I was saying, some days I
realllllly
feel like trading places with someone else.”

Emma and I looked at each other. Well, at least I wouldn't have Sydney pressure anymore.

“Apparently, I'm late,” Quinn said, rolling her eyes. “Can't be late for another day of shopping, can I?”

She started walking away and then turned around.

“Um, hey,” she said. “So, Emma, you're the one who went to the mall with us, right?”

Emma nodded.

“I had fun with you. I don't know if . . . do you want to maybe hang out sometime?” Quinn asked hesitantly. “I mean, I don't know if you're okay doing something other than shopping. I'm trying to save up for a new laptop, but I keep blowing my money at the mall. Do you like to do anything besides shop?”

I looked at Emma. Emma looked at me.

Did Emma like to do anything besides shop? Gee. I tried not to crack up.

“Yes,” Emma said. “I like to do lots of things besides shop.”

“Cool!” Quinn said. “I'll give you my number.”

Emma took out her turquoise-sparkly cell phone and put in Quinn's info. Quinn said bye, and we continued walking.

“You go, girl!” I said to Emma. “You have a friend! That is, if you can break out of your fashionista mode.”

“Funny,” Emma said. She was smiling. Then she stopped smiling. “What do you think she'd want to do if we hung out? Scrabble? Pictionary? Trivial Pursuit: Genius Edition?”

“Chill, Emma,” I interrupted. “Try a movie first, 'kay?”

We turned another corner. And ran smack into Jazmine James. As usual, she was flanked by Tess and Hector.

“Well, if it isn't Double Trouble,” Jazmine said. “Are you on your way to the History Club meeting? Oh, no, wait—you can't. You're going to detention.”