“Humble, isn’t she?” Ethan grumbled as he read over Emma’s shoulder.

“This doesn’t make sense,” Emma said, tapping her index finger against Ethan’s phone. “Gabby made Laurel wait while she finished a tweet this afternoon right before the ceremony. So why doesn’t the tweet show up on her page?” Emma’s eyes widened. “Wait. What if they have secret Twitter accounts?”

Ethan looked at her as though he wasn’t quite sure what she was getting at.

“It’s when someone has a public account that they tell everyone about and a secondary account under a code name,” Emma explained.

“Why would they bother?” Ethan asked.

“If they have stuff they want to talk to each other about that they don’t want anyone else reading.”

“It makes sense.” Ethan’s voice rose with excitement. “And it sounds exactly like something those two would do.”

“But how could we figure out what they are? Would the names be an inside joke?”

“Probably,” Ethan answered. “Or they could be totally random.”

“Let’s try fashion designers,” Emma suggested. “Or maybe favorite shoe brands or movies.” She called up the Twitter homepage and typed in @rodarte, the Twins’ favorite clothing label. But that Twitter profile belonged to someone in Australia. She typed in other variations—rodarteGirl, RodarteFan—as well as other things the Twitter Twins liked, like Gabby’s all-time favorite movie, The Devil Wears Prada, or Lili’s favorite band, My Chemical Romance.

They checked the Twins’ Facebook pages to spark other ideas. “They have twin dogs named Googoo and Gaga,” Ethan pointed out.

“Seriously?” Emma groaned and typed it in, but nothing came up—except for a lot of Lady Gaga fan pages.

They tried makeup brands, variations on Gucci and Marc Jacobs, celebs they loved, and stores they shopped at. None of them worked. Emma sat back and massaged her temples. What would her secret Twitter account be? A nickname no one would guess? All she could think of was how Lou, the mechanic at the garage, called her Little Grease Monkey. Or how, when she worked at the New York-New York roller coaster, some of the guys who bartended nearby not-so-secretly referred to her as the “vomit-comet hottie.”

“What if Lili and Gabby’s secret Twitter names are kind of embarrassing?” Emma asked. “Like something about Gabby running over Lili’s foot.”

“Or when Gabby got stuck in the locker,” Ethan added.

Suddenly, they both looked at each other. Emma typed in @GabbyPonyBaloney. A profile popped up; the tiny picture was definitely Gabby. Only one girl was following her: @MissLiliTallywhacker.

“I can’t believe it,” Emma whispered. Her fingers shook as she scrolled down the page. These tweets weren’t nearly as mindless. Every post she read made the room spin just a little bit faster. First, she read their tweets from August 31:

@GABBYPONYBALONEY: Do you think we should?

@MissLiliTallywhacker: Definitely. No turning back now. It all falls into place tonight.