Rotten Apple (8 page)

“I’m sorry, but you have to admit, it’s kind of funny,” she finally said. “Have you told my mother?”

“Yes. Of course,” Aunt Hazel said.

“And what did the great Dr. Bee Bee Berg say to you?”

“Oh, you know your mother. Same old. Same old. She advised me that men don’t find women who sneak around in their closets very cute at all. She advised me that it was psychotic. She advised me that I have ‘trust issues,’” her aunt said, mocking her sister. “You know what your mother’s like.”

“You think?” Apple asked, and started to laugh again. “I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but I think Mom has a point.”

“Okay, enough. I know I’m pathetic. I just came here to be alone in my patheticness. But I’m going now. Your dad called. He’s staying late at the office but wants you to call him. There’s dinner in the kitchen.”

“What? There is?” Apple asked. She was used to making herself a bowl of cereal for dinner.

“Don’t get too excited. It’s just a pizza that I ordered and ate half of. Double cheese. Okay, I’m out of here. Enjoy your night.”

Apple walked into the kitchen, enjoying the peace and quiet that was so rare around the Berg household. Apple didn’t often have the entire house to herself, but she knew it probably wouldn’t last long.

She called her father and had a brief, friendly chat. He sounded a bit sad on the phone, and mentioned he was going to play nine holes, which broke Apple’s heart. It was as if he wanted to spend as much time away from the house as he possibly could. He usually played golf only on the weekends.

She sat on the couch and turned on the television, ready to plop in her
Minors in Malibu
DVD. The characters on
Minors in Malibu
got together all the time. It gave her hope, even though she knew it was just a television show.

Instead she heard a key in the front door, and jumped to attention, wondering who it could be. Maybe it was Aunt Hazel coming back to moan some more about Ken, or Kyle, or whatever his name was. Or maybe she forgot something? Maybe it was Guy, coming over to attend to some of her mother’s e-mail. Maybe her father had decided not to golf today after all.

“Apple,” her mother said, walking through the doors. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Don’t you have some event to be at?” Apple asked. “What are you doing home so early? It’s only seven.”

“Not tonight. Well, I did, but I canceled at the last minute. And you know, I think Alice Cooper was going to be there. Your father would have died.”

Great, Apple thought, she probably felt she had to spend some quality time with her daughter. It was so not necessary, Apple thought.

“I want to talk to you about something very sensitive,” her mother began, sitting down on the couch next to Apple, grabbing the remote from her hand, and clicking off the television.

“Hey!” Apple said. “I was watching that!”

“I’m sorry, but this is important,” her mother said sternly.

“Mom! This isn’t going to be a sex talk, is it? I mean, we already had that conversation when I was eleven, and then when I was twelve, then again when I was thirteen.”

“No, it’s not a sex talk. Well, not exactly,” her mother said.

“What is it now, Mom? I really should get up and do some homework, so you’re going to have to make this quick,” Apple pressed.

“Apple, high school is a confusing time,” her mother began. “Being fifteen is a confusing time. I get that.”

“And your point is?” Apple asked, trying to get the conversation moving faster. The sooner it really started, the sooner it would end.

“My point is that while you may think you’re an adult, you are not. You are still a little girl—
my
little girl,” she added.

“And your point is?” Apple asked again. What was her mother rambling on about now?

“Apple, don’t be sarcastic. It’s important and healthy to get to know people your own age. It’s important to hang around guys your own age,” her mother said, wringing her hands.

“Mom, you’re not trying to tell me to get a boyfriend again, are you?” Apple asked. “I told you there’s no one I’m interested in.”

“No, but I’m telling you that you may learn something from hanging around boys your own age. That
you will want to have gone through all the things other fifteen-year-old girls go through with fifteen-year-old boys. I just don’t want you to ever have to regret missing out on that. You should enjoy your youth now, with other … youthful people.”

Apple, at that instant, suddenly understood what her mother was trying to get at. It was patently clear that her mother had read her electronic diary entry—her
fake
diary entry—about her crush—her
fake
crush—on Mr. Kelly, her math teacher, just as Apple had suspected she would.

“Okay, and …,” Apple said, playing along, trying not to smile. She rolled her eyes for effect. Let’s just see, she thought, if she’s going to admit what she’s done, that she rudely went and read my
private
diary entry. She should totally apologize, Apple thought.

“Well, Apple, I’m just worried that you’re missing out on a critical and pivotal stage in your life. Like I said, I don’t want you to have any regrets, or to do anything stupid,” Dr. Berg told her daughter.

“Stupid? Stupid like what?” Apple pressed her mother, who was starting to look uncomfortable. It was rare indeed for Dr. Bee Bee Berg to look uncomfortable while interrogating someone. She was a pro, after all.

Apple knew her mother was uncomfortable because she knew she had done something wrong, namely sneak into Apple’s private documents.

“Stupid like … stupid like not giving boys your age a chance,” her mother said.

“Mom, I don’t know what you’re getting at. But I really do have to get to my homework. This conversation is over.” Apple got up and headed up the stairs. Wow, she thought. She had always wanted to say, “This conversation
is over.”

“Apple, wait!” her mother demanded, standing up. She had a concerned look on her face.

“No, we’re done talking. I can’t believe you!” Apple snapped at her mother.

“I was just trying to help,” her mother said.

“I don’t need your help!” Apple stormed into her room and slammed the door. As she threw herself onto the bed, she heard, faintly, her mother still nattering at her. Apple was right, and she couldn’t help but feel slightly triumphant. It was just as she had expected, that her mother would want to talk about her fake diary entry. But she was also angry. How dare her mother sneak a peak at her diary and then interrogate her as if
she
was the one who had done something wrong!

“Trust me on this,” she heard her mother yell through the door. “I’m your mother!”

Apple got under her covers. Her suspicions about her mother had proved right. To make matters even worse, her mother was being pushy, demanding that she date boys her own age. Not only was her mother a sneak, but she was overbearing too. Apple was more desperate than ever to keep every thought to herself from now on. No matter what.

fter her Aunt Hazel dropped her off at school the next morning, Apple headed to the spiral staircase. Brooklyn, Happy, and Zen were already sitting there.

“Hey, Apple!” Happy said immediately. “You didn’t tell me you volunteered to do the clothing drive at the club! You should have told me—we could have done it together!”

“Oh, well, it was a spur-of-the-moment thing,” Apple told her friend, hoping that her face was not turning red. She was not a good liar. “Brooklyn and I were just walking by the table yesterday and I thought, ‘Why not?’ And plus I know how busy you are with acting classes. I didn’t think you’d have the time.”

“I got an e-mail last night telling me we’ll be watching the table together,” Zen said to Apple.

“Me too! How lucky is it that we got paired up together?” Apple asked Zen. “I mean, it’s lucky that we at least know each other. It would suck to be stuck
next to someone you didn’t know, if you know what I mean,” she continued clumsily.

“That’s true,” Zen agreed.

“Well, it sounds to
me
like it could be fun,” Happy said, pouting. “I wish I was volunteering too.”

“It’s probably not too late to sign up,” Zen told her. “You could just come along with Apple and me today. I’m sure no one would mind. Or you could just hang out and we could meet you after at the burger shack or something.”

Zen seemed to perk up at the idea, and Happy was beaming at Zen’s eagerness to include her.

Great, thought Apple. That’s just great. She felt a pang of guilt. Happy was her best friend. She should
want
to hang out with Happy. Happy and Apple had spent many afternoons lying by the pool at the club, for years, since they were kids.

“Oh, but Apple’s right,” said Happy. “I just can’t. I really don’t have the time.” Immediately Apple felt relieved. Then she felt guilty for feeling relieved. Why did she always end up feeling guilty over something?

“Even today I have somewhere to be,” Happy added, sounding disappointed. “I can’t get out of it.” Apple knew that Happy’s appointment was a session with Dr. Caffeine.

“Well,” said Zen, “I guess I’ll meet you by the front doors after school, Apple, and we’ll take it from there. I think North said he was heading over to the club with his brother, so we can catch a ride with them, if that’s cool with you.”

“That’s cool,” Apple said, trying to be nonchalant.

“I’ve got to head to class now,” he said, though he didn’t really look like he wanted to leave.

“Oh, I’ll come with you,” said Brooklyn. “We have science now, right?”

Apple was left alone with Happy, but she couldn’t read the expression on her friend’s face. It was one Apple hadn’t ever seen before. Was Happy that upset that she had to go see her shrink? Or was she really that disappointed that she hadn’t signed up to volunteer …

“Apple,” began Happy, “you have to do me a biggie.”

“What?” Apple asked. The last time Happy asked her to do a “biggie” it was about asking how she could get on
Queen of Hearts
. “Please don’t ask me again about getting on the show. And you never gave me those jeans!”

“No, no. I’m over that. But you have to chat up Zen for me. You have to tell him how wonderful I am. You have to get some information out of him,” Happy said, almost desperately. “And I promise to bring you the jeans.”

“Information? What do you mean?” asked Apple. “I’m not good at that, Happy—you know that. I’m so bad at getting things out of people.”

“Just mention my name in conversation and see what he says. Just pretend you’re your mother for a minute and start asking him some questions. Please, Apple. Pretty please? Somehow just work me into the conversation. It’ll be really easy,” she said, grabbing Apple’s hands tightly.

“But why?” Apple asked her friend. “Why do you want me to do this?”

“So I can know how he feels about me?” Happy responded. “I can’t read him.”

Apple had never seen Happy in insecure mode before. What was going on with her friend?

“Why do you care?” Apple said to her. “You’ve never cared before about how people felt about you. You didn’t care about the lifeguard. And it’s why we love you. We love the fact that you couldn’t give a rat’s ass about what people think about you. It’s what makes you
you”
she said, releasing her hands from Happy’s tight grip.

“I know. I know. I hate myself for even asking,” Happy said, turning her face away from Apple. “But please? Could you?”

“I don’t know, Happy.”

“Oh, come on, Apple. Can you just do this for me?” Happy pleaded.

How can I
not
do this for Happy? thought Apple, especially since her friend looked … what? She looked like she very much needed Apple to do this for her. It pained Apple to see her friend looking … insecure? borderline desperate?

“Okay, fine. I’ll ask. But I’m not making any promises.”

“Thanks, Apple. You’re the best!” Happy said, throwing her arms around Apple’s neck. “That’s all I’m asking for.”

After school, Apple headed to the front doors. She saw Zen standing there—and Happy walking off, her blond ponytail bouncing behind her and a happy jaunt in her step. Obviously, her friend had perked up since that morning.

“You just missed Happy,” Zen told her when she walked up to him. Was it just her imagination, or was Zen beaming? He looked like he was trying to swallow his big smile. It wasn’t working.

“So, are we meeting North?” Apple asked.

“Yup. He’s in the parking lot waiting for us. We’d better go. Our chariot awaits,” Zen said, sweeping his arms in front of him, then opening the door for her to exit first.

“Great!” Apple said. “Let’s go have some fun!”

“What?” Zen said.

“Well, I mean volunteering should also be fun,” Apple said.

Why did the words coming from her mouth always sound so moronic when she tried to talk to Zen? She was positive that he was looking at her like she was an oddball.

Apple piled in the back seat of the big SUV and stayed quiet while the boys talked about golf scores. Apple couldn’t contribute to this conversation at all. She didn’t even bother trying.

North’s brother dropped them off and parked in the visitor’s parking lot at the club.

“I’m going to go pump some iron,” North said, sounding like Hulk Hogan. “Catch you guys later.”

Apple and Zen walked into the lobby and saw a table was set up for them in a corner.

“Hey, guys!” said Poppy, who was sitting at the table. “It’s your shift now. All you have to do is take the clothes that people drop off, go through them, fold them, and put them in the marked boxes. And no stealing! It’s hard,
because there’s some good stuff people are giving away. Then, when you’re done, take the boxes out to the valet station. Someone is going to come pick them up later. Ta ta,” Poppy said, and left with a wave.

“I guess all we have to do is sit here, then, and wait?” Apple asked Zen, when they were alone.

“Yeah, it probably won’t get really busy until dinner time, I imagine,” Zen said.

Every night the club had a buffet-style dinner, meant for families. The kids would run around on the back lawn, which led to the golf course, while their parents sipped cocktails and mingled with each other.

“So, what’s up?” Apple asked Zen, pulling up a chair for him. Zen was even shyer than Apple was. Apple knew it had to be her to start the conversation or they’d really sit there in silence.

“Oh, you know, the usual. Just school and stuff,” Zen answered.

“Yeah. Don’t you hate being back at school?” Apple asked.

“Actually, surprisingly, it’s not as boring as I remember,” Zen said. “I’m not having as bad a time as I expected I would coming back.”

“Really?”

“Yup.”

“I mean, when I ran into you on the street the day before break ended, you said you were dreading going back,” Apple said, confused.

“Yeah, I was. But I’m not now. It’s kind of nice to be back, actually.”

Apple didn’t know what to say. She certainly didn’t want to ask Zen why he was so happy about being back at school, for fear of the answer.

They sat beside each other in silence. She swore she could hear the tennis balls bouncing on the tennis courts outside, and the click of the pool cues. She swore she could even hear a golf ball rolling across the course. But this was her do-or-die moment. This was when Plan Z was supposed to be in full-on action. She was finally alone with Zen, which is what she had hoped for all along. She had to talk about
something
or else the next hour would be painful.

What else did they have in common? Apple was desperate to make some sort of connection with Zen.

It came down to Happy. Apple gulped. They clearly had Happy in common, and she had promised her friend she would talk about her. Why not kill two birds with one stone? It was better to talk about Happy than to not talk about anything and sit in this uncomfortable silence. It wasn’t the kind of silence she enjoyed.

“Isn’t Happy so pretty?” Apple found herself asking.

She saw Zen perk up. She was torn. At least he seemed to be interested in talking to her now, but why did he have to perk up when the conversation was about her best friend? Once she got him interested, though, she could move on to other things, things that didn’t have to focus around Happy.

“She’s beautiful! I never knew how beautiful she really was,” Zen said. “She makes me laugh, too.”

“Yeah, she can be really funny,” agreed Apple.

“And sweet,” Zen added. “I always thought she was kind of spoiled. But she’s not, really. I mean she is, but she doesn’t act like it, you know?”

“Of course I know. I’m her best friend!”

“And she seems like she’d be fun,” he went on. Was he asking a question?

“Oh, she is,” Apple said. “You’re not the only one who thinks so. She’s a live-for-the-moment kind of girl, you know what I mean?” She knew she was entering uncool territory—because she already knew what she was planning on saying.

“Not exactly. Maybe. What do you mean?” Zen asked.

“Well, take the lifeguard for example,” Apple said, leaning in toward Zen. She was close enough to smell him. Happy was right—he did smell good.

“The lifeguard?” Zen asked, confused.

“Yeah, the lifeguard she had a fling with over winter break in Mexico. Didn’t she tell you?” Apple asked. “I mean, that’s what I was talking about.”

Apple felt horrible. She knew she was somehow betraying Happy, but it wasn’t like Happy had ever told her that the lifeguard fling was a secret or anything. And, Apple figured, Happy was the one who had asked her to talk about her, to bring her up in conversation. She was just doing as told. Happy had, after all, practically forced Apple to talk about her to Zen. How else was she to do it?

“Um, I don’t think so,” Zen said. “She never mentioned anything about a lifeguard.”

“Well, she had this wild fling with this super-sexy lifeguard. She didn’t even ask his last name! But that’s
Happy for you. Like you said, she’s really into having a good time,” Apple said nonchalantly.

“I see,” Zen said, more slowly now.

“Yeah, she likes her flings. Nothing too, too serious. She’s sweet, though, isn’t she?”

“Yeah.”

“And she’s really funny, like you said,” Apple continued.

“Yeah.”

“And she’s super good-looking, like you said.”

“Yeah.”

She could tell Zen’s mind was working overtime on what she had just told him.

“Just forget what I said about the lifeguard,” she said now. “It was just a fling! She really did it just to piss off her sister. I don’t think it meant anything to her. No, I’m
sure
it didn’t,” she added, trying to cheer him up.

Apple knew she needed to change the subject. “I think this is really good you’re helping out like this,” she told Zen. “I just think you have the best heart.”

“Well, you’re here too,” said Zen, but sullenly.

The guilt! It was killing her. She was supposed to talk up her friend, not talk her down.

“You know, I’m really not feeling well all of a sudden,” Zen said. “Maybe I’m coming down with something. Let’s continue this another time. I think I really need to get out of here.”