Rotten Apple (13 page)

“Yes, I know, Mom,” she said.

“Good,” Dr. Bee Bee Berg said. She looked back to the screen and shook her head. “I just don’t understand
how Happy could think that I would ever say something like that.”

“What else did Happy write?” Apple asked.

“She seems to like a boy—one her age, mind you,” Apple’s mother said pointedly. God, her mother still thought she was in love with Mr. Kelly, her math teacher. She wasn’t going to let Apple forget it. “And she was somehow under the impression that games were a good way to proceed,” her mother finished.

“Well, what did you tell her?” Apple asked. “Did you write back?”

“You know, Apple, it gives me such joy when you’re interested in my work. It really does,” her mother gushed. “I honestly thought that you never cared about my work—or at least that you haven’t for ages.”

“Mom, just tell me what advice you gave her,” Apple said.

“Well, I set her straight, of course,” her mother answered firmly.

“You did?” Apple felt her heart sink. She tilted her head back and looked at the ceiling. She couldn’t bring herself to look at her mother.

“Of course! I told her exactly what I just told you: that if you start playing games, then the games will end badly, or they will never end.” Her mother paused and looked at Apple with concern. “You look pale, Apple. What’s wrong? Maybe you
are
coming down with something.”

“No, I’m just thinking about what Happy wrote you, that’s all,” Apple said quietly. She wasn’t lying entirely. She
was
thinking about it. Plan Z had completely fallen
apart. Now Happy would get the real Dr. Bee Bee Berg e-mail and think her mother was crazy for changing her tune and writing her completely different advice from what she seemed to have originally sent.

But there was still a chance that it would all be okay, if Happy thought Dr. Berg was a bit psychotic. Maybe Happy would even stop worshipping Dr. Bee Bee Berg so much—an added bonus, at least to Apple.

“I think I may have to have a little chat with Guy,” her mother sighed. “I’m dreading it. You know how much he means to me. The Queen of Hearts would be nothing without Guy.”

“Why do you have to have a chat with Guy?” Apple asked, now looking at her mother.

“You know he’s usually the one who answers the viewer’s e-mail questions. I just hope he isn’t giving out bad advice. It’s so strange, because he knows me like the back of his own hand. He knows I would never advise playing games. It’s just so strange. Maybe he’s overworked. Maybe I should give him some time off.”

“Oh, I’m sure Guy didn’t make a mistake,” Apple swallowed. It felt like there was a huge lump stuck in her throat. “I’m sure Happy just got mixed up with advice she got from someone else. When people have problems, they usually ask everyone they know for advice, right?”

“You’re probably right. She probably did get my advice mixed up with something her sister told her, or another one of her friends,” her mother said, turning back to face the computer.

If only her mother knew how close to the truth that was, thought Apple.

Apple was done with sneaking into her mother’s computer and checking to see if Happy had written to her. Done, done, done. This was
way
too close for comfort.

“Apple, I’m so happy we had this chat,” her mother said, throwing her arms around her daughter. Apple didn’t hug her back. “We should really do it more often,” her mother added, letting her go. “But you really should go lie down. You look kind of green.”

pple and Zen were sitting behind their table at the country club folding clothes. Apple was in good spirits. She had made up her mind the day before, after speaking with her mother, to get back on the honest track, and it made her feel moral and sane again.

“It’s pretty silly how the vibe in the school has changed in the past couple days,” Zen said, putting his feet up on the table in front of him and taking a swig from his can of Coke.

“What do you mean?” Apple asked.

“I don’t know. It just seems like after the posters went up for the Valentine Ball, everyone’s mood changed. It’s like you could feel it in the air. Some sort of nervous energy. Do you know what I mean?” Zen asked.

“I know what you mean. I can’t believe how giddy people are acting. It’s just a dance. I’m so not like that.”

“You’re not?” Zen said.

“No, I’m more of a low-expectation kind of gal,” Apple admitted.

“Oh, you are, are you?” Zen asked, flashing her that dimpled smile. Was he flirting with her, Apple wondered?

“Yes. I think school dances are kind of silly,” Apple continued.

“You do?”

“Well, yes. I mean, are school dances even fun? They seem to have a lot of pressure on them,” she added cynically.

Whenever Apple had high expectations, things never turned out as she thought they would, kind of like New Year’s Eve. She knew that whenever she didn’t have expectations, she usually ended up having a better time. Not that she’d ever been to a school dance before, to know what to really expect.

Of course, on the inside, Apple knew this line was all a crock. She did have high expectations—she just didn’t want to jinx it. So she was just playing down how excited she was, especially that she might at least get a dance with Zen.

“Yeah. They do,” Zen said. “You’re totally right.”

“I mean, everyone is walking around wondering if someone is going to ask them to be their date for the dance,” Apple continued. Hint, hint, Apple thought.

“Don’t they have a theme every year too?” Zen asked. “I think I remember hearing that.”

“Right! I totally forgot about that. The theme! I wonder what it’ll be?” Apple said, truly excited. “It would be cool to have a theme that included the music. Like swing.”

“I hate swing music,” Zen said. “God, I hate it. And all those people throwing each other around.”

“Really? I think it’s kind of sexy,” Apple said. She loved watching reality-TV dance shows and couldn’t believe that anyone could hate swing dance.

“No, I love hip hop. That would be cool,” Zen said.

“Really?” asked Apple. “I never pegged you as that type.”

“There’s no way you’ll be seeing me swing dancing,” Zen laughed. He seemed to be friendlier than he ever had to Apple. Maybe he really trusted her now, after their talk the other day. Maybe he was finally seeing the real Apple, she thought.

“So you’ve been thinking about the dance too, then, you hypocrite,” Apple tried to joke.

“So’ve you. I know, for example, that you have plans with your friends for, um, what do you guys call it? Pampering?” Zen said, again flashing that dimpled smile.

Oh, God. Happy must have told Zen that they were planning to go to Gossip for facials. That was embarrassing.

“Well, why not? If you can’t beat ’em, join ’em,” Apple said.

“You know, Apple. Let’s take some of these boxes outside. They’re starting to pile up. We can leave them with the valet so they’ll be there when we get picked up.”

“Sure,” Apple answered, grabbing a large brown box.

Wouldn’t it be so amazing if Zen asked her to the Valentine Ball, even if the theme was hip hop? Apple was so completely wrapped up in a fantasy of dancing
closely to Zen, that she didn’t notice a pothole in the pavement in front of her.

Her arms flailed as she tripped and lost her balance. She felt the boxes fall to the ground and then felt herself tumble backward—right into Zen’s arms. He was quick and strong and caught her before she reached the ground.

Apple let herself sink into his arms. It felt … right. She didn’t want to move.

“Wow! Falling for me again,” Zen said, laughing.

“Sorry,” she said, standing up slowly. “I can’t believe I just did that.”

“Women are always falling for me,” Zen joked. “Or at least I wish they were.”

“I bet women fall for you all the time,” Apple said, blushing. “I’m just joking! I mean …”

“Well, at least
you
just did,” Zen said.

“Yeah, and you caught me too!” Apple answered, flirtatiously, or at least as flirtatiously as she could.

They stood staring at each other in a comfortable silence. What a magical moment, Apple thought. Was it fate? Here she had been thinking about Zen, and when she tripped, he caught her like she was a baseball and he was a glove. He did it so effortlessly, too, thought Apple. They would be perfect dance partners.

“Hey,” he said, taking his hand and pushing her hair out of her face. Apple blushed again and felt herself tingling. It felt nice to have Zen stand so close to her and brush her hair away. It was like a scene out of a romantic movie.

“You know, Apple. You have such great hair,” he said.

“I do?”

“Yeah. There’s just so much of it,” Zen said.

“I know,” said Apple.

“So, are you okay?” Zen asked, looking concerned. “Do you want me to get you a bottle of water or something?”

God, was Zen cute when he was concerned! And he looked like he really did care about her well-being. He started to rub her shoulders.

“I don’t think so,” Apple answered, though she felt dizzy. She knew it had nothing to do with her fall.

“Are you sure? Should we take a break? Shall we go?” he asked.

“I think I’m okay,” she answered. “I’m just a little woozy.”

Zen cared! He cared! When he stopped massaging her shoulders, Apple felt a little upset. Still, they could stand like that forever.

They began picking the clothes up from the ground.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” Zen asked again.

“I’m sure. Don’t worry about me so much,” Apple said.

“Good, because you’re my number-one partner right now, and it would be a bummer if we couldn’t volunteer together. I have fun with you.”

“So, what were we talking about before I fell for you?” Apple tried to joke.

“The Valentine Ball,” Zen said.

“Right. Well, like I said, it’s so strange to see people so worried about what they’re going to wear, and who they’re going with,” Apple continued, as they walked back into the club.

She knew that now was her chance. She could ask Zen to the dance, and let him think she was asking to go just as friends. Then, once he saw her looking fabulous, he’d really start to notice her. He had just looked like he really cared about her. He had even said he couldn’t work without his number-one partner, and that he had fun with her. He had said he loved her hair!

“I’m thinking of asking Happy,” Zen said, as they took their seats back behind the table.

Apple suddenly felt as if she might fall to the ground again, but this time because she really felt dizzy. Zen did not just say that he was thinking of asking Happy to the dance, did he?

Hadn’t he just caught her? Wasn’t that fate? Didn’t they just share a magical moment? She had fit into his arms so perfectly. He had just told her he had fun with her, loved working with her, and now he was saying that he was going to ask Happy to the dance?

This cannot be happening, Apple thought.

“Really?” she asked, trying to not have a look of disenchantment on her face.

“Yeah,” he said, as if it weren’t such a big deal.

When Apple didn’t respond, Zen spoke again. “Why? Do you think it’s a bad idea?”

“No, it’s not that,” Apple began.

“Well, it must be something. I can read your face,” Zen said. “Come on! Tell me. I trust what you have to say.”

“You do?” Apple asked, thinking, why?

“Of course. Not only are you a good listener, but
also you’re the Queen of Hearts’s daughter. You must have picked something up by osmosis or whatever.”

“Oh, you think so, do you? You haven’t watched one of her shows, have you, ever?”

“No. Anyway, do you think Happy will turn me down?” he insisted.

“I don’t know,” Apple said. She felt sick.

“Well, you must know something. You’re her best friend,” Zen said.

“Honestly, I haven’t talked to Happy today. But I do know what my mother would tell you to do—if you are at all interested in what the Queen of Hearts would have to say.”

“But of course I am,” Zen said. “How could I ever turn down free advice from the Queen of Hearts? I mean, I know she said not to be desperate. But a few days have gone by now, so I don’t think I’d seem desperate.”

“You’re right. But my mother, the expert, would also say, play a little hard to get.”

“Really? This is way too confusing for a guy,” Zen moaned.

“She’d say that the modern woman should even go as far as to ask a guy to a dance—since it
is
the modern day and not the 1950s.”

“I guess that makes sense,” Zen said. “This starting a relationship thing is so tricky. No wonder I haven’t had a girlfriend before.”

“Well, millions of people a day think my mother makes perfect sense. Who could argue with the masses?” Apple said.

“Again you’ve given me something to think about.
Thanks Apple,” he said.

As they finished up and said goodbye, Apple could tell by the focused look on his face that he was thinking about what she had told him.

She walked home fuming, and also feeling ashamed and embarrassed at her herself. How could she have mistaken his catching her for anything but his catching her? Why did she think it was fate? Luckily, Crazy Aunt Hazel was home. Aunt Hazel was always doing worse things than she had just done. Aunt Hazel would put things in perspective for her.

“Yo!” her aunt said when she walked in. She was standing in the kitchen, eating ice cream right out of the container.

“Yo!” Apple said back.

“So what’s happening, do-gooder?”

“Nothing. What’s happening here? Is Mom home?” Apple asked.

“Of course not. Duh!”

“Where’s Dad?” Apple asked.

“He said he had some work to do and went to his office. Or maybe he went golfing. Who knows?”

“Oh,” Apple said. She swore she could still feel Zen’s arms wrapped around her. She could still feel the tingles on her face when he brushed her hair out of her eyes. “I thought it was date night,” Apple asked her aunt. “Aren’t Thursday nights date night?”

“Sweetie, when is the last time an actual date night took place?” Aunt Hazel asked her, giving her a look of self-pity.

Apple hadn’t realized it, but Aunt Hazel was right. Her
parents hadn’t been on one of their date nights in months.

Thursday nights had always been her parents’ regular date night. Come hell or high water, they’d go out together, for dinner and a movie, after her mother’s show. Apple remembered her father sometimes even buying flowers for her mother and knocking at the front door, pretending to pick up his wife for their date. When he used to do that, Apple wanted to be anywhere but near them. It was so embarrassing to watch her parents carry on like they were teenagers. But now Apple kind of missed the ritual, no matter how awkward it was to be around.

The next day after date night, her parents would act all sickeningly sweet to each other, and her mother would leave the house later than usual. That hadn’t happened in a while, though. Apple couldn’t even remember the last time it had happened.

“Your parents’ marriage is falling apart, I think,” said Aunt Hazel, putting the lid back on the ice cream container and throwing it back into the freezer.

“Why do you say that?” asked Apple, defensively and aggressively. It irked her that her aunt had also noticed what she had been noticing.

“Well, my assessment of the situation is that they just don’t spend enough time together. Even when they’re both at home, they don’t hang out in the same room. It’s like they’re roommates. I’m telling you, something is going to have to change or pretty soon they’re going to be sleeping not only in different rooms but in different houses.”