Rotten Apple (3 page)

here you are!” screeched Happy the moment Apple raced into Gossip Spa. Happy had been standing near the tower of nail polishes by the nail bar just inside the door. “Where have you been? You’re, like, a month late! I tried calling you, but you didn’t pick up. We had to move our appointments back half an hour! Now come here and give me a hug.”

“Me too! I want a hug too!” said Brooklyn. “We missed you!”

“I missed you more than Brooklyn did,” Happy said.

“Did not,” Brooklyn said.

“Did too!”

Happy and Brooklyn embraced Apple into a bear hug, and Apple instantly felt better about life. She inhaled the scent of Happy’s long, straight blond hair, which smelled like peach. Hugging Happy was like coming home to a house full of fresh baking.

“You have no idea how much I missed you guys! I can’t believe you both left me alone for two weeks. How could you guys do that to me?” Apple asked her friends as they pulled apart. “Take a guess how many times the Queen of Hearts asked me if I wanted her advice. Come on, take a guess!”

“Fifty!” Brooklyn said.

“Nope. Guess again,” Apple said.

“Two hundred and fifty,” Happy said, as if they were at an auction.

“No, I stopped paying attention after the 285th time,” Apple told them.

“I promise we will never do it again,” Happy said, “right, Brooklyn? We will never leave sweet Apple alone with her mother for two weeks ever again. Next time,
you
go on vacation with my family, and
I’ll
stay at home with Dr. Bee Bee Berg.”

“Thank you!” Apple said. “That would be fantastic.”

“Right.
You
try spending two weeks with Sailor, and you might think twice about just how painful it is to spend it with your mother,” Happy said. “I’ll take your mother over my sister any day.”

Happy had a real love/hate relationship with her older sister. Sometimes their fights got so out of control that they turned physical. But just as often they hung out together, being only two years apart in age, and they always shared the same clothes.

“Well,
I
had a relaxing holiday,” Brooklyn said. “I did sunrise yoga classes on the beach every morning at 6 a.m., and they were truly inspirational.”

Happy and Apple exchanged doubtful looks. How
could anything be inspirational at that ungodly hour?

“So what do you think?” Happy asked. “Should I get the slut-red nail polish today, or go for candy-floss pink?” She held two different nail-polish bottles out for Apple to look at.

“I don’t know. They’re both nice,” Apple said. As Happy contemplated the two colors, Apple couldn’t help but stare at her.

“Happy,” she finally said, “what are you wearing? You
do
realize it’s just Sunday afternoon, right? Do you ever not look good?” Happy had the kind of thick, blond hair that celebrities paid a small fortune to fly their hair stylists in to maintain, along with big blue eyes, a perfect ski-slope nose, and high cheekbones. Now, thanks to two weeks in Mexico, she was perfectly bronzed too. And, as always, she was dressed as if she was heading to the MTV Music Awards. Today it was skin-tight black jeans under knee-high black leather boots, and a lacy, almost see-through top.

“No, it’s impossible for Happy to ever look bad,” Brooklyn said. “You should know that by now. Even Happy’s worst-looking days are better than my best-looking ones,” she moaned. Brooklyn was wearing her usual sort of getup—low-waisted yoga pants and a long-sleeved yoga shirt with the words “hugs make the world go round” written across the chest.

“You guys are too nice!” Happy said. “I don’t know why I need therapy when I have you guys to make me feel so good all the time.”

“Yeah, well there’s a reason they call you ‘the Onion’ at school,” Brooklyn said.

“Oh, God, stop it!” Happy moaned, shaking her head. “I hate that.”

It was true that all their classmates called Happy “the Onion” behind her back, and sometimes even to her face. It was because she was so beautiful that, when you looked at her, you wanted to cry. “Mind you, at least I’m not called the Noodle,” Happy said, looking at Brooklyn, who could bend her body like a boiled noodle. Brooklyn was tall, lean, limber, and willowy, like a ballerina. “I’d rather be called the Onion than the Noodle, wouldn’t you, Apple?”

“Um, I’d rather be called neither,” Apple said.

“Apple? Your skin looks amazing! You look like you just had an oxygen facial recently or something. Did you?” Happy asked.

“No! I just got here,” said Apple. “Plus I’d never come to Gossip without you guys. It’s our thing, right?”

Apple, Happy, and Brooklyn came to Gossip Spa on a pretty regular basis. They came to celebrate special occasions, like their birthdays or Valentine’s Day, and always on the last day of school break, before school started up again. They called it “back-to-school” pampering.

“I don’t know, Apple,” Happy said. “Your skin looks all flushed. You’re glowing! You’re not pregnant, are you?”

“Happy!” Apple said, laughing. The things that came out of her mouth, Apple thought. It was one of the reasons she loved Happy so much: she always kept Apple on her toes. Happy didn’t know how to edit her own words.

“You’re not in love, are you?” asked Brooklyn, clapping her hands like a little child who had just been handed a balloon. “You look like you’re in love! Are you in love?”

“God, you guys. No, I’m not in love. No, I’m not pregnant. I’ve never even had a boyfriend, as you two know perfectly well,” Apple said. But maybe I will this semester, she thought. Zen smiled at me, after all.

“Not that she’d tell you anyway, Happy. She’s the Sponge,” said Brooklyn, trying out a purple hue on her big toe.

“Oh, the Sponge would tell us
big
news,” Happy said to Brooklyn, pretending Apple wasn’t standing right beside them. “One day, the Sponge is going to explode, and we’re going to know all her secrets. No one can keep everything inside for that long without blowing up.”

“Guys, I’m
not
pregnant. I’m
not
in love. I just raced over here,” Apple insisted. “I was practically running. My face is flushed because my mother made me late with her stream of never-ending questions on the way out the door. That’s why. I swear!”

“Okay, moving on,” said Happy. “So you’re getting the ‘Hello Gorgeous’ today?” she asked Apple.

The Hello Gorgeous was one of the most popular treatments at Gossip. It promised to shape your eyebrows so perfectly that you’d be ready for the pages of a magazine.

“Hey, Apple! You have to hear all about Happy’s new man,” Brooklyn suddenly said, looking up from her feet.

“He was just a fling, Brooklyn,” said Happy, adding, “a super-hot fling. That’s what my parents get for forcing me to go to Mexico with them and Sailor. I swear, my parents never want to spend any time with us, and then when we have two weeks off, that’s the time they decide they want to ‘get to know’ us. Not that they really even did that. Sailor and I barely saw them the entire vacation. They had their own room and we had ours. Sailor and I fought the entire time. One night, Sailor—”

“Happy!” Apple said. “Enough about Sailor! Tell me about the fling!”

“He was a lifeguard,” Happy said, beaming. “Sailor was so jealous! It was totally worth it, just to see the envy dripping from Sailor that I had found a guy and she hadn’t. It was, like, the happiest days of my life.”

“Okay,
you
had a fling with a lifeguard and all
I
did was watch reruns of
Minors in Malibu
for two weeks and stare at my split ends,” Apple moaned.

“Well, there’s not much to tell, though. Let’s just say I have a whole new appreciation for lifeguards.” Happy laughed.

Apple had a million questions for Happy, but before she could ask any of them, Natalie, the owner of Gossip, sauntered over to them.

Natalie was twenty-five and was the coolest adult Apple had ever met. She was always dressed like she was about to walk down a red carpet at a movie premiere. She had had features written about her in all the local newspapers and magazines. And, unlike Apple’s mother, she never shelled out unwanted advice—she
only shelled it out when asked. But she always treated her clients like friends, and you could tell her anything. Not that Apple ever did.

“Hey, you guys! It’s so nice to see you. It’s been way too long! And you all look phenomenal!” Natalie said, giving them each a hug.

That was the other thing about Natalie. She was always so free with compliments. “Are you all ready for your treatments?” Natalie asked. “Brooklyn, you’re getting your legs waxed, right? Kendra is waiting for you in the back.”

“In the torture room, right?” Brooklyn asked with a shudder.

“You got it,” said Natalie.

“See you guys soon,” Brooklyn said, “I may be a while. My leg hair is so long you could practically braid it. And I hate when people in my yoga classes stare at my hairy legs. I’m not
that
much of a tree-hugger.”

“Nice, Brooklyn,” Happy said, and they all laughed. Brooklyn gave them a peace sign and headed to the back.

“And Apple, you’re getting the Hello Gorgeous, right?” said Natalie. “Michele is waiting for you at the eyebrow bar. And Happy, you can head over to the nail bar with Jessica,” she directed.

“Do you think maybe Jessica can do my nails at the eyebrow bar? I need to catch up with Apple,” Happy asked Natalie.

“Yes, Happy has to tell me about her new lifeguard boyfriend!” added Apple.

“Oooh, a lifeguard!” said Natalie. “That’s my greatest fantasy. Too bad I have another client in the back
waiting for me. I’ll have to hear all about this the next time you guys are here, which I hope will be soon. And, yes, Happy, Jessica can do your nails next to Apple while she gets her brows done. Be nice to Jessica—she’s new here. See you guys soon,” said Natalie, heading off to attend to her client, who looked like a Paris Hilton wannabe and who was bragging to the receptionist about her new nose.

“Man, Paris-ites,” Happy moaned. “Can’t live with them, can’t live without them. I blame that awful show on them multiplying like fleas.”

“
The Queen of Hearts?”
Apple asked, only half joking.

“No, that one you loved that was canceled after, like, two shows,” Happy responded.

Apple knew Happy was talking about a docu-soap that had recently put their city on the map, but not in a good way. The show had featured seven upper-class women who lived in the area and who had discussed their marriages, cheating, and what it was like to be “trophy wives.” All the women dressed—and acted—twenty years younger than they actually were. It was the worst of reality shows, but in a fascinating way.

“Why did you hate that show and not my mother’s show?” Apple asked. “I mean, they basically discussed relationship issues too, just not in the same way.”

“Because at least your mother’s show is real! And your mother helps them at the end,” Happy said. “And she doesn’t let anything get by her. She knows when someone is lying to her, and she gets it out of them. Now
that
is fascinating to watch!”

“Well, I guess it’s more real than that girl’s chest and nose, anyway,” laughed Apple, nodding toward the girl at the reception desk. “How old do you think she is? Seventeen?”

“If even,” Happy answered. “Come on, Oscar. Let’s get your brows done.”

Dear ED

What a day! First I ran into Zen. He’s back! And, oh my God, was I a bumbling idiot. I don’t think there has ever been a more flustered human in the world. I swear, and I would only admit this to you, ED, I’m going to start taking pointers from my mother’s book, because I cannot be like that in front of Zen again. Ever! I’m going on a mission, I tell you. I’m going to call it Plan Z. (Short for Plan Zen, if you didn’t get it.) I also went to Gossip and was so happy to see Brooklyn and Happy. Happy had a fling with a lifeguard! He was seventeen years old and she didn’t even ask for his phone number or e-mail address when she left. She didn’t even know his last name! And she would only tell me the details of her fling if I gave her something in return. And you’re not going to believe what she has asked me to do! And because I was still so flustered from running into Zen, I actually agreed to do it! But I’ll
get into that soon enough. At least my mother is starting work again tomorrow. The show has been in reruns, so now she can go back to meddling in other people’s lives. Anyway, back to my promise to Happy in order for Happy to give me the details of her fling. Happy is so addicted to
Queen of Hearts with Dr. Bee Bee Berg
(even more addicted than I am to
Minors in Malibu!)
, so not only does Happy want me to find out what my mother’s upcoming shows are, so she can be in the know before everyone else—which is painful enough—but she also wants to know how she can get on the show! Happy wants to be a guest on my mother’s show! I mean, I know Happy has always wanted to be an actress and she thinks that getting on my mother’s show as a guest will be the place she gets “discovered.” I told her just to go to my mother’s website, where people write in for advice, but Happy actually wants to be on the show, in front of the audience and everything! What could I do? I mean, she is my best friend and I promised. I wasn’t thinking clearly! But she also promised me this fabulous pair of jeans that she has that I’ve always adored. So I guess I have to do it—at least for the jeans! (Once I get my Plan Z into action, and he sees me in them, they’ll be an added bonus!) I really, really need those jeans. And now I have to get downstairs for “family dinner.” Which is such a joke. I mean, my parents don’t really seem to spend any time together at all. And to top it off, Crazy Aunt Hazel is here. All I’ll say about her is that she is a walking, talking memo reminding me how I DO NOT want my life to end up. Once again, welcome to my life, ED.

“I just can’t believe he broke up with me,” Apple heard her aunt Hazel moan loudly as she walked into the large open kitchen. “Everything seemed to be going fine. And then, poof, out of the blue he decides he needs ‘space.’ Space! Can you believe that? Why would he want space from me? I was the ideal girlfriend. I did everything for him! I was always there for him. Always. I worked my entire schedule around him!”

Apple knew that Crazy Aunt Hazel was grousing about her latest dating disaster. She was always having a major crisis about a man, and Apple’s mother was always giving her advice, which Aunt Hazel always ignored.

“Maybe that was the problem,” her mother responded, in full Dr. Bee Bee Berg mode.

Apple sat down at the kitchen table, across from her aunt, resting her feet on another chair. Her mother was putting out dinner plates on the table, which was already full of cartons of takeout Chinese food. Dr. Bee Bee Berg could solve all matters of the heart, but she couldn’t even manage to make scrambled eggs or to microwave frozen peas.

“So Rupert broke up with you?” Apple asked her aunt, who had started, literally, to pound her head on the table. Her hair was a disaster, as if she had just been caught in a tornado. Her shirt was even on inside out.

“His name was Roger,” Crazy Aunt Hazel huffed, hiding her face in her hands. It looked like she still had on her makeup from the night before.

Roger, that’s it! Apple thought. I knew it started with an R.

It was hard for Apple to keep track of all the men who moved in and out of Aunt Hazel’s life like it had a revolving door. The taste in a piece of chewing gum lasted longer than Aunt Hazel’s relationships. And all Aunt Hazel wanted was to fall in love, get married, and have babies.

“I didn’t even hear you come in, sweetie,” Apple’s mother said. “So did you have fun with the girls?”

“Yes,” Apple answered, crossing her legs on the chair.

“What’s up with your friends?”

“Not much,” Apple answered, trying to sound friendly but not so friendly as to invite more questions.

“Come on. What did you guys talk about?” her mother pressed.

There was no way Apple was going to tell her mother about Happy’s lifeguard. That was Happy’s life and Happy’s business. And Apple didn’t think Crazy Aunt Hazel would want to hear about the fling either, given that a fifteen-year-old was probably getting more action than she was.

“I don’t remember,” Apple said.

“Well, you look good. Your eyebrows look all cleaned up,” her mother said. “They’re perfect!”

“Hello? We were talking about
me”
Crazy Aunt Hazel interrupted, throwing up her arms. Apple noticed there was a hole in her shirt under her armpit. She really was a mess. “Apple,” she said, “one day you will learn that it’s impossible to find a good man. They all disguise
their real personalities. They seem really nice and kind at first, and they treat you like a goddess. Then, after three weeks of bliss, the mask comes off. The mask
always
comes off. And you realize that they are commitment-phobic and that they’ll never say ‘I love you,’ and then they’ll tell you that they never promised you anything and that they need space,” Crazy Aunt Hazel ranted. She tilted her head back in despair. “He was probably cheating on me.”

Apple knew what was coming. One did not complain to Dr. Bee Bee Berg about a relationship gone sour without getting a rant in return. It amazed Apple that, after all these years, her aunt still hadn’t learned this.

“Hazel! That’s just not true,” her mother responded, just as Apple knew she would. “You can’t make sweeping generalizations like that about men. Not every man cheats. Many men do say ‘I love you.’ Not every man needs space. You just haven’t met the right man for you—your time will come. Patience is a virtue. Men are like dogs: they smell desperation. If you act positive, then positive things will come your way.”

It annoyed Apple that her mother was always optimistic about love. She did kind of have to be, though. After all, it was her job. Although Apple couldn’t help but think that it would be kind of cool if one day her mother just went postal on
The Queen of Hearts
and shouted out to one of her guests, “Just give up on love, you pathetic loser!” Now
that
would be a show worth watching, Apple thought. She grabbed an egg roll and filled her plate with beef and broccoli.

“That’s easy for you to say,” moaned Aunt Hazel, reaching into a carton of fried rice and taking it out with her hands.

“Hazel! Can you at least use a fork?” her mother reprimanded her younger sister.

After Hazel swallowed, she placed her head on the table as if she was going to take a nap. But she continued to speak. “You are already married. You have a job you love. You have a child. You have a home. You’re famous. Your life is just peachy keen. It’s the same way as it’s easy for rich people to say that money doesn’t buy happiness, because they
have
money. It’s easy for people who are married to say, ‘You’ll find someone.’”

“You want to know what I think?” Apple’s mother asked. “I think you need to keep up your energy. Here, have some spare ribs.”

“NO!” Aunt Hazel said forcefully. “I don’t want your advice. I don’t want spare ribs. I just want to moan. Can you just listen to me? Can’t I just moan?”

“No, you can’t. And I’m going to give my advice to you anyway. It’s what I wrote in my book
Advice: It’s Easier to Give Than to Take
,” her mother began.

“Yes, we know all about your best-selling book,” Aunt Hazel said, rolling her eyes at Apple. “Remember, Bee Bee? You gave me one when it was published, another for my birthday, another for Valentine’s Day, another for Christmas, and another when it went into reprints. I must own five copies of each of your books!”

“And have you read any of them?” Apple’s mother demanded, hands on her hips.

“No,” said Aunt Hazel, somewhat sheepishly. “I don’t like to read.”

Apple couldn’t help but laugh. Dr. Bee Bee Berg, along with being the host of her popular talk show, had also written six best-selling self-help books. Apple was amazed that so many people bought them. If that were me, Apple thought, you’d bet I’d order them online. There would be no way I’d walk up to someone at a bookstore and let them see that I was buying a book by the Queen of Hearts, even if it was on every bestseller list.

“Well, you will find someone when you stop looking so hard,” Apple’s mother told Hazel.

“Here we go again,” Aunt Hazel said. She sounded remarkably like Apple had earlier that day. Apple realized that, at this moment, she sympathized with her aunt. They both knew what it was like to get unwanted advice all the time, yet it seemed as if Aunt Hazel, unlike Apple, could not stop herself from moaning to Apple’s mother all the time about her personal problems. Crazy Aunt Hazel constantly complained about her sister’s unwanted advice, but she still called her a thousand times a day telling her about her pathetic love life. What did she expect?

“Do you really think you’re the only one out there having a hard time meeting someone special or being in a healthy relationship?” Apple’s mother continued. “You should watch my show more often.”

“Do
not
compare me to those nut jobs on your show,” Aunt Hazel demanded.

“Amen to that,” Apple added quietly.

“I can’t believe I’m related to you two,” Dr. Bee Bee Berg said. “Do you know that, right now, I have about eight hundred e-mails from my viewers asking me for my advice on love problems? Are you telling me that they are all nut jobs? I don’t think they are.”

“Can we just eat without all the drama?” Apple asked. She was sick of talking and hearing about relationships and about all the people in the world who had relationship problems and needed advice. If her mother and Crazy Aunt Hazel kept talking like this, it wouldn’t be long before one of them asked
her
if she had a love interest or any issues with a guy.

“Doug! Doug! Dinner is on the table! We’re all here and waiting for you! In fact, we’ve already started without you,” Apple’s mother yelled out to her father, who was somewhere in the house. She turned back to her sister.

“Relationships are about compromise,” Bee said.

“Oh, please, let this stop! Leave me alone,” moaned Aunt Hazel.

“Fine then, I will,” said Bee Bee. “But you know I’m right.”

“Do you really believe that anyway, Apple? Is that what you do with your boyfriends? Do you compromise?” her aunt asked, saying the word “compromise” as if it was a dirty word.

Dr. Bee Bee Berg turned to Apple, suddenly looking very interested.

“Apple, tell me, is there any boy in your school that I should know about?” her mother said. “Is Hazel right? Is there someone? I know there must be some
guy you’re interested in. When I was fifteen, I had a whole bunch of boyfriends—it was such an exciting time. Now is the time, Apple, to enjoy male relationships, because they’re not nearly as complicated as they will be when you get older. Look at what Hazel goes through.”

“Thanks, Bee Bee!” Hazel said, sarcastically.

“No, Mom,” Apple said, shooting her aunt an evil look. “There is no one I’m interested in. If we must talk about relationships, let’s get back to Aunt Hazel?” Her aunt shot an evil grin back at her.

“Oh, come on! I know you’re lying to me. A mother can tell these things. There must be someone you are interested in. What about that boy Hopper in your class?
He’s
nice-looking!” her mother said.

“He’s also a bit of an ass,” Apple responded.

“Language please, Apple,” her mother said, disapprovingly. “It’s not feminine to talk trashy.”

“Well, you asked …,” said Apple.

“I know you’re keeping something from me, Apple, and I know it will eventually come out. The truth always does.” Apple feared her mother really might know what was going on in her head. Her mother’s intuition when it came to matters of the heart was amazing, and quite frankly scary sometimes. She could, for example, tell exactly when one of her guests on
Queen of Hearts
was going to cry—she always managed to hand them a tissue moments before the waterworks began. Did her mother know Apple harbored a secret crush on Zen and that she spent hours daydreaming about him? Was it possible that her mother could see something in her eyes?

“Mom, please,” Apple begged. “I think I ate too quickly. My stomach hurts.”

“Or maybe your stomach hurts because you like someone,” her mother said in a singsong voice.

“God, Bee Bee, can you ever stop interrogating anyone for even a second?” asked Aunt Hazel. “If Apple says she’s not interested in anyone, she’s not interested. Just leave her alone! And that goes for me too.”