Polly leaned over to her sister. "Not all the football players are bad."

Molly rolled her eyes, then turned her attention back to me. "Is Joe Diaz going to be there?"

Joe was a wide receiver, and not a bad one at that, although it was his twin brother, Garret, who got the most attention on the team. Garret was the quarterback. Plus, Garret had this tall-dark-and-handsome thing going for him. Joe and Garret weren't identical twins though, and Joe, well, Joe was just tall and dark.

"I could invite him if you wanted," I volunteered.

"No," Polly said quickly. "No, that would be awkward. If he wanted to talk to me again he would have by now."

"Again?" Samantha asked. Her voice had a tell-me-more lilt to it.

When Polly didn't volunteer any more information, Molly leaned forward, conspiratorially. "They once had a ten-minute conversation in English about why being a twin is the pits."

"It was nothing personal," Polly told her sister.

"Yeah, I'll remember that if you ever need a kidney," Molly said.

I shrugged at Polly. "Maybe he just needs an opportunity to talk to you again. Why don't you come with us to the movies, and I'll invite some of the guys—"

"No, I can't." Polly held up both hands to stop me. "I get nosebleeds when I'm nervous. Really bad. In my last school they called me A+ Polly—and they weren't talking about my grade point average. This school is already bad enough. I don't need any more nicknames."

Samantha said, "You shouldn't let a few names stop you from doing what you want."

"You just need some confidence," I said. "Hanging out with friends is nothing to get nervous about."

You would have thought I'd just told Polly to fly. She looked at me in total disbelief. "No offense, but it's easy for you to have confidence. You're both . . ." She waved a hand in our general direction. "Cheerleaders. You don't know what it means to have people make fun of you."

Which made me laugh out loud. "We don't just have nicknames," I said. "We've got an entire CD dedicated to us." Molly shook her head. "Yeah, but those songs are about how cheerleaders think they're better than everyone else. In the long run they'll probably just make you more attractive to high school guys. No one has ever accused us of thinking we're better than everyone else. How do you get that gig?"

I guess it was the fashion designer in me, but without thinking I said, "If you lost the sweatshirts and stood up straight every once in a while you'd find out."

"What?" Polly said.

Samantha put her hand over her face. She'd heard me give enough critiques that she knew where I was going with this.

"Those sweats aren't slimming. They actually add bulk. You need to get some shirts that taper in at the waist. Also your hair doesn't add anything when you just pull it back like that. Hair should frame your face, give it some lift and balance. Your hair isn't doing its job."

Molly and Polly both stared at me with their mouths slightly ajar. Since they weren't talking I figured I'd just finish off my critique. "And a good makeover would help. You're in high school. It's okay to wear makeup."

Molly let out a grunt. "You think a makeover would change anything? We slap on some mascara and suddenly guys stop calling us names and ask for our phone number?"

I said, "If I slouched around in sweats and didn't do my hair or makeup, I wouldn't be dating anyone—well, okay, actually I'm not dating anyone, but you know what I mean." I sat back in my chair and surveyed them. "Why don't you let Samantha and me do makeovers on you? We could go clothes shopping too. It would be fun."

Samantha snapped her fingers while she thought. "I bet we could get them in at the salon with Dotti." To the twins she said, "That woman can work miracles with highlights and a haircut."

"Wait a minute." Molly held up one hand. "Suddenly we're talking scissors?"

I nodded. "And you ought to consider contacts. You have really pretty eyes."

Polly touched the frames of her glasses and looked back at me wistfully. "You honestly think so?"

Molly elbowed her sister before I could answer. "Contacts are little pieces of plastic that people shove into their eyes. Hello, that won't feel good."

"Doing a makeover would be lots of fun," Samantha said. "Chelsea's really good at picking out clothes."

Molly and Polly glanced at each other again. It made me wonder if all those stories about twins and telepathy were true because I could almost see the communication passing between them. Polly teetered on the edge of indecision, but Molly stood firm. She said, "It won't make a difference, and if we let them start changing things now, they'll do something awful like rip out half our eyebrows."

I nodded. "You do need a wax j ob on your eyebrows, yes."

"See," Molly said. "And when it's all said and done nothing will change except my eyebrows will be sore for a week."

And people on TV always seem so excited and grateful when someone offers them a makeover. How was it that I'd run into the two people on the planet who didn't want one? "If I can prove that makeovers make a difference, will you agree to have one?" I asked.

The class bell rung. Everyone around us gathered up their books but none of us moved. "Well?" I asked.

Molly looked at me doubtfully. "How are you going to prove it?"

"Meet Samantha and me after school and we'll run an experiment," I said.

As we went to our next class, I explained the experiment to Samantha. Then she explained why she didn't want to be my friend anymore, but I knew she was just kidding.

After school I waited for everyone by Samantha's car. Samantha and Logan were the first to appear. Logan kept shaking his head as he walked up. "I leave you alone for one night and you join a rock group," he told Samantha. "Now we're apart for a few hours and you're running experiments on how to pick up guys?"

"Well, yeah," she said, "but you don't have to worry because I'm going to be the ugly one who doesn't get picked up."

"It's all in the name of science," I added.

Logan glared at me, then returned his attention to Samantha. "How are you making yourself ugly?"

" I 'm going to take all of my makeup off, pull my hair back, wear your sweatshirt, and borrow some glasses."

"And that's going to do it?" he said. "That's your secret ugly disguise?"

"Right," she said.

He shook his head. "I've seen you without makeup and with your hair pulled back. I hate to break this to you, but a sweatshirt and a pair of glasses are not going to make you ugly."

Samantha took a step closer to him and a smile slid across her face. "You're so sweet."

He looked like he was about to kiss her, which frankly I see enough of and which I shouldn't have to endure because I have no boyfriend. I made shooing motions in his direction. "Yes, it's wonderful that love is blind, but stop trying to ruin my experiment. She's supposed to be acting self-conscious and insecure, not radiant."

Logan didn't kiss Samantha, but he did take hold of her hand. "Where are you running this experiment? I may want to stop by and pick you up."

"Campus," I said. "Northside Marketplace."

Logan's head snapped up. "You're going to pick up college guys?"