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practically shoved me into the JC. “I’ve got fifteen minutes before mathletes starts. That should be enough time to pose as you and get your picture taken. Your shirt is too wet, but I grabbed your jacket out of your locker on the way. Give me your jeans.”
    â€œBut we swore not to trade places again,” I protested.
    â€œNo.” Emma looked at me. “No, we didn’t.”
    I remembered how we almost did a pinky swear, but then we’d stopped.
    â€œBesides,” Emma said. “We’re not trading places. I’m just temporarily being you for a few minutes. You’re not being me. It’s different.”
    â€œI’m not? But won’t that mean there are two Emmas at the same time?” I asked her. Now that would be weird.
    â€œNot if ‘ Emma ’ stays hidden in the janitor’s closet,” Emma said. “Hurry up and change and let’s get this done!”
    So, Emma and I traded outfits. I tossed her my jeans and furry boots. She put on my black jacket. I put on her chocolate-brown sweatpants and sneakers.
    â€œI wish I had worn my spelling bee T-shirt today,” Emma said. “You having to wear that would be classic.”
    No, that would have been just wrong.
    â€œWait!” I said, looking at her. “Brush your hair for the picture! And put on my barrette!”
    Hair was brushed! Barrette was clipped in! Lip gloss was applied!
    And . . . Ta-da!
    â€œI’m you!” Emma announced. “I’ll go in, get your picture taken, and be back before you know it.”
    â€œAnd I’m supposed to just sit here?” I asked her.
    â€œExcuse me, I’m at risk of missing the first minutes of mathletes to help you,” she said.
    â€œYou’re right,” I said. “Hey, Emma? Thanks.”
    â€œYou’re welcome,” she said. “And you owe me one.”
    Emma took a deep breath and walked out the door. I heard one last thing before she disappeared.
    â€œHi—wait, are you Emma or Payton?” a girl’s voice asked.
    â€œHiiii! I’m Payton!” Emma squealed, totally over the top.
    I sat down on a cleaning bucket for the second time today. And sighed.

Emma
    Four
    MATHLETES . . . ALMOST
    Finally. Finally. Finally. I was myself again! I checked my watch as I flew through the halls. Eight minutes late. Four hundred eighty precious seconds. But at least I’d made it.
    I stopped outside the mathletes room to compose myself. I mussed my hair up a little bit to get back into Emma mode.
    Being Payton for her Drama Club pictures had been easy-peasy. I’d given a wide, slightly vacant smile for her headshot. I’d stood in line between Tess and Nick for the group shot.
    I’d slipped out, ran to the JC, and quickly switched back with Payton. I’d knocked our secret code knock: Knock. Knock, tap-tap. Knock! And then ignored her whining about sitting in the closet for so long. Seriously, I don’t know why she was complaining. She could have gotten a lot of homework covered in that free time.
    Excellent work, Emma, if I did say so myself.
    However, I’d missed the first few minutes of mathletes. I suddenly felt a moment of nerves as I prepared to walk in late.
    Show no fear! I silently repeated my competition mantra and walked confidently into the room. Show no—
    â€œWhat the—!” I was yanked backward. My backpack had gotten caught on the doorknob. My head banged against the door. Ow. I untangled my backpack strap and tried to focus my eyes.
    â€œThat’s Emma Mills,” a girl said loudly. “She has vestibular problems.”
    I knew that voice. Jazmine James.
    â€œYeah, Emma, you really should get some special help for that,” said a boy.
    Of course, it was Hector. Wherever there was Jazmine James, there was Hector.
    â€œI do not have balance problems,” I said, shaking off the dizziness. “I told you that last week.”
    Um, last