Triple Trouble (16 page)

“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!”

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 Multipalooza 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.”