There's one!

There's another one! Or is it the same one? Identical twins make face-counting a complicated question.

Close enough!

"Hi!" she says, brightly, after weaving through the halls towards them. "I'm Edie, I'm the unofficial welcome wagon, no one else knows about you yet but I have sources, welcome to our lovely little school!"

"Ooh, sources," says the one with longer hair. "Hi, nice to meet you! I'm Merry and this is my brother Lucky."

"Congratulations," she says, "you're the second set of out-of-towners to move here and start attending high this school in, like, a decade. Are you twins, my sister and I are the first set and we're twins, I call shenanigans."

"What would we be besides twins? Hiding a triplet in our closet, maybe?"

"Why is that the first place your mind goes? Like, not just triplets, but specifically brother-imprisoning criminal triplets?"

"Not enough excitement in my life."

He cracks up. "God help us all."

"Sometimes siblings look really similar even when they're not twins!" she points out.

"Same face, sure, it happens. Same height, at this age? I don't buy it."

Shrug. "Just because I couldn't think of an explanation besides 'twins' doesn't mean none exist, and asking's politer."

"Okay, new topic. What are these 'sources' you speak of, are you secretly running a spy ring? If so, can Merry join? It'll keep him out of trouble."

"I am not secretly running spy ring. As far as you know. My mother's a part-time lecturer at Boston University and uses this to gently lever the principal into telling her things."

"Nooo, chasing your imaginary spy ring is going to do the opposite of keep him out of trouble," says Lucky.

"I swear I am not nearly as troublesome as my brother would like you to believe," says Merry.

"When I introduce you to my sister," she says solemnly, "I swear I am not nearly as troublesome as she will attempt to get you to believe."

"Well that sounds promising."

"Is it too late to move to Salem instead?"

"Yes. There is no escape."

"Merry, she's scaring me," he says, jokingly stepping behind his brother.

"Don't worry," he says, "if she's secretly some kind of nefarious criminal mastermind, I'm sure I can handle her."

"Who, me?" she asks, placing one hand over her heart in mock offense. "Sir. I will have you know that I am an entirely virtuous criminal mastermind."

"See? Nothing to worry about."

"I'm going to wake up tomorrow to a postcard from Vegas soliciting my congratulations on your elopement. It will have mysterious bloodstains on it and you will protest innocence when I ask who you shot at your wedding."