Rotten Apple (7 page)

uess what I’ve spent the last hour doing?” Happy asked Apple, in a singsong voice, near the end of the week. It was early evening and Happy had phoned while Apple was lying on her bed, attempting to read a book for her English literature class. Apple hadn’t been very successful at studying either. She couldn’t focus on anything. She had really mostly been lying on her bed and staring at the ceiling and at the things in her room. There were ceramic apples all over her bedroom, in all sorts of sizes, and apple-shaped picture frames too. There were even stickers of apples around the border of her mirror. For as long as Apple could remember, whenever someone didn’t know what to get her as a present, they bought her things with apples on them. She thought it was probably time to redecorate her room. Who needed to be reminded all the time what her name was?

Apple couldn’t believe school had started only earlier this week. When nothing happens, it seems like
an eternity. And nothing had happened. She had tried to speak to Zen numerous times, and he was always polite, but the conversations never lasted more than a few minutes. She had even picked up a new car magazine and handed it to him one morning, telling him she had found it and thought he might like it. All he said was “Thanks,” and then he tossed it into his knapsack. She had even mentioned a movie she’d heard good things about. But Zen hadn’t suggested they go see it together. He’d just said, “Maybe I’ll check it out.”

“I’m not good at guessing,” Apple told Happy on the phone.

“Just take a guess!” Happy demanded.

“Washing your hair?” Apple guessed.

“No. Try again.”

“Um, reading a magazine,” Apple guessed again.

“God, you really are bad at guessing,” Happy laughed. “You weren’t joking.”

“I know. So just tell me!” Apple demanded.

“Fine, I will. I’ve been messaging back and forth with Zen,” she said.

“What?” Apple said, sitting up now.

“I know! When I got home from school today, I logged onto my computer to see if I could order this pair of boots and suddenly an e-mail popped up from Zen. He even sent me pictures of him surfing in Australia. You should see him with his shirt off,” Happy giggled.

Apple was stunned. All
she
had been doing was trying to study.

Apple had thought that maybe studying would force her to get her mind off the fact that Plan Z had gotten
her nowhere in the past four days. Apple wondered if her mother’s self-help advice had ever worked for anyone, because it certainly hadn’t worked for her. Why was something that seemed so easy on paper so hard in practice?

“Wow. I can’t believe he did that!” Apple said, hoping her tone came off more like excitement for her friend than like shock that her Super-Sized Zen Crush was IM’ing Happy instead of her.

“I know! So I wrote him back and we just started chatting away,” continued Happy.

“About what?” Apple asked. What did Happy and Zen have to chat about, anyway?

“Oh, school, our families, stuff like that. I even told him about Dr. Caffeine.”

“You did not!” Apple said, shocked.

Dr. Caffeine had been Happy’s therapist for years. Happy called her Dr. Caffeine because she offered her a can of pop or a coffee every time Happy came in for her weekly appointment. Seeing a therapist was the only thing Happy’s parents demanded that she and Sailor do on a regular basis. Apple supposed they felt guilty they were never around, and that making Happy and Sailor see a therapist made them feel like better parents somehow, like they really did care.

Happy had never told anyone except Brooklyn and Apple about her weekly appointments with Dr. Caffeine. She was embarrassed about them. So it surprised Apple that Happy had told Zen, a classmate she had only started to have conversations with. How was he suddenly in the inner circle of Happy’s secrets?

“He’s just so easy to talk to,” Happy gushed. “He makes it so easy to open up to him. He’s a really good listener. He’s kind of like you, actually. And he’s so sweet too. You’re not going to believe what he’s planning to do.” Happy paused, waiting to be asked.

“Tell me,” Apple said sullenly.

“Well, you know that clothing drive the school is organizing, where they’re setting up a table at the country club to collect clothes for the homeless shelters?”

“Yeah,” Apple said. She vaguely remembered hearing an announcement about it over the speakers at school and seeing some posters on the walls.

“Well, he’s actually thinking about doing it. He’s giving up his free time to sit at a table in the country club! It just shows that he has a kind heart, you know? Here I am ordering designer boots online because I’m too lazy even to go to a store, and he’s planning to collect people’s old clothes to give to shelters. It just shows how thoughtful he is, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah, it does.” Apple really had to agree. Not like she hadn’t known that. She had followed Zen’s moves for years. Apple knew that Zen was always volunteering whenever the school needed people to raise money for charity or to answer phones for fundraising drives.

“Well, I just had to let you know,” Happy told Apple. “I had to tell
someone
, and of course it had to be you! And now I’d better get back to reading too, because I just spent an hour and a half IM’ing with Zen.”

“I thought you said you only chatted for an hour,” Apple said, feeling herself falling into a worse mood by the second.

“Well, it was more like two hours. But it seemed like ten minutes. Love you!” Happy said, and hung up.

Apple threw her phone down on her bed and walked over to her computer to write to ED.

Apple suddenly stopped typing. Her mother had snooped in her electronic diary just a few days before. How could she have forgotten? This was the kind of problem her mother would totally get off on, too—a girl being in love with a guy she has never told, who apparently was showing interest in her best friend instead. There was no way she was going to let her mother find out what she was going through. No, Apple was not like the rest of the Bergites—what Apple called
Dr. Bee Bee Berg’s cult-like followers. She didn’t like to share her problems with anyone, especially not her mother. She wasn’t even sure if Zen’s chatting with Happy
was
a problem. Maybe they were just becoming friends. But she was still pissed at her mother for daring to sneak into her room to read her diary. The only way to get back at her mother for snooping was to try and trap her in the act. Apple deleted what she’d written about Zen and Happy, and started to type again.

Apple smirked, rereading what she’d just written. She thought it sounded believable. There was no way her mother wouldn’t mention something about
this
fake diary entry. It was like her mother’s advice to women who take back men who cheat on them: once a cheater, always a cheater. Or was it that leopards can never change their spots? Whatever it was, Apple thought, once a snooper, always a snooper. Her mother couldn’t change her spots. Once she read it, her mother would
have
to admit that she had read Apple’s private diary. Apple purposely left her entry on the screen and didn’t shut down her computer. Her mother would feel as embarrassed as Apple did now knowing that someone had read her private thoughts. Then her mother would, for sure, butt out of Apple’s life, maybe for good. I have no choice, thought Apple. I can’t trust writing to ED again. I have to be super protective now. I’ve been burned.

alvanized by the night before’s conversation with Happy, Apple knew that she really had to focus on Plan Z. When the lunch bell rang, she caught up with Zen and asked him straight out, “Come eat lunch with me.” She was sick of being so pathetic. Happily, Zen agreed, and they walked into the cafeteria together. Unfortunately, Apple’s excitement lasted only a moment. Zen spotted Happy and Brooklyn and started heading toward them. There was no way Apple could suggest now that they eat somewhere else—it was too late for that. There was nothing she could do but follow.

“Can we join you?” Zen asked.

“Of course!” Happy said, sliding over to make room for both of them.

Happy was daintily devouring a chopped salad. Brooklyn, as usual, was scoffing down some sort of bean dish. Despondently, Apple started to unwrap her tuna salad sandwich.

“Great,” said Zen, smiling at Happy. “You know, Happy, you smell like peach.”

“It’s my conditioner,” Happy laughed, tossing back her hair. “Do you like it?”

“Oh, yeah. It’s making me really hungry. Let me smell it again,” he said, gently grabbing a chunk of Happy’s beautiful thick blond hair and inhaling deeply. “Yup. I’m definitely hungry for a peach now.”

Brooklyn and Apple raised their eyebrows at one another. There was no doubt about it—Zen was flirting with Happy. Apple suddenly felt anything but hungry. Her lunch was ruined, and she tossed her sandwich into a nearby garbage can.

“Let me smell
your
hair,” Happy said to Zen, leaning toward him. “Not too bad either,” she told him. “I like a man who uses a nice-smelling shampoo.”

Apple couldn’t take it a second longer. She jumped up, wiping crumbs off her pants. “Excuse me, you guys,” she said, interrupting the flirtation. “I forgot one of my books in the classroom. I’d better go get it.”

“Wait. I’m coming with you,” Brooklyn said, grabbing her yoga mat. “Peace and love!”

Apple and Brooklyn walked out of the cafeteria. Neither Happy nor Zen seemed to notice they had left. They didn’t even say goodbye.

“It seems someone and someone wanted to be alone,” Brooklyn said. “God, if they get together, they’ll be like the next Brangelina! They’re both too good-looking,” she added. “The only thing that would be more good-looking would be Happy and Hopper.”

“You don’t think they actually like each other, do you?” Apple asked Brooklyn.

“It seemed like they
very much
were into each other. I was about to tell them to get a hotel room. So where did you leave your book?” Brooklyn asked Apple.

When Apple didn’t respond, Brooklyn laughed. “I knew it! I knew it! You saw that they wanted to be left alone too. You just made up that excuse to get away.”

“I did not! Happy is a flirt,” Apple protested. “She’s always been a flirt. It doesn’t mean anything. I honestly thought I forgot my book, but I didn’t.” Brooklyn wasn’t exactly right. Apple just felt awful that there she was, probably smelling like tuna, and Happy smelled like peach. She made a mental note to ask Happy what kind of shampoo she used. She wanted to smell like peach too, not like fish.

“Sure, whatever,” Brooklyn said, heading to the staircase. “You’re not going to believe what my mother did. She took away my cell phone! Can you believe the Helicopter took away my phone? Apparently, calling the theater to check on movie times is not considered an emergency. Apple? Apple? Did you hear what I just said?” Brooklyn shook Apple’s arm.

Apple’s attention was on a table set up in the hallway.

An older student named Poppy, who Apple knew was in Sailor’s year, was calling out, “Last day to sign up for the clothing drive! Help out those less fortunate and contribute your time. It’s easy!”

Suddenly, a thought came to Apple. She needed to get Zen alone with her, and if Happy was always around, that would never happen. But Happy had told
her that Zen had signed up for the clothing drive. This was her chance!

“You know what, Brooklyn? I’m going to help out with the clothing drive,” Apple said.

“Really?” Brooklyn raised her eyebrows at Apple, then added, “I mean, that’s great!”

“Yes, I am. It’s a good thing to do,” Apple said, “and I have the time. It’s good karma, as you always say.”

Apple walked over to the sign-up table, with Brooklyn following.

“I think I may be interested. What do I have to do?” Apple asked Poppy.

“Hey, you’re Apple, right?” Poppy asked.

“Yes.”

“I love your hair. I’ve always wanted to tell you that. And Dr. Bee Bee Berg is your mother, right? I love her show! Do you think she could mention the clothing drive on her show?” Poppy asked.

“Um, it’s a show about
relationships
,” Brooklyn said to Poppy.

“I know! I’ve only watched it like every day for five years now! I just thought Apple could maybe mention it to her mother or something. If Dr. Bee Bee Berg threw her support behind this, we’d kick butt,” Poppy said.

“My mother is pretty busy,” Apple told Poppy, “but I’ll ask.”

She couldn’t bring herself to just say no to Poppy. While it was one thing to complain to her friends, Apple would never complain about her mother to people she didn’t know. Not that Apple would ever ask
her mother to mention the clothing drive. Her mother wouldn’t have the time anyway.

“But if you want my help, too,” she added, “I’ll be willing. So, what does this require exactly?”

“Well, you just write your name and e-mail address on this sheet, and we’ll be in touch with you. It will only require a few hours after school for a couple of weeks, whenever you can find the time, and you’ll really be doing a good deed for those who are less fortunate than us.”

“Does she have to call people and ask for their old clothes or something?” Brooklyn asked.

“No, we already have students calling parents right now. All you have to do, Apple, is sit at a table at the country club, where we’re going to set up shop, collect the clothes, and bring them back to school. It’s very easy. All you have to do is donate your time, really,” Poppy said. “Your family are already members of the club anyway, so you know where it is, right?”

“Yes,” Apple nodded. “Okay, I’m in. Can you please hand me the sign-up sheet?”

“Great! Here you go,” Poppy said, handing Apple a clipboard.

Apple quickly scanned the dozen or so names of students who had signed up for the clothing drive. There it was, near the top of the page. Zen’s name. She ran her finger lovingly over his handwriting. It made her feel close to him.

Apple wrote her name and e-mail address at the bottom of the list.

“I can’t believe you’re doing this, Apple,” said Brooklyn. “You know, I admire you. It’s such a good thing to do.
You’re such a good person. I think it shows real growth and maturity. And you’re right—it will bring you good karma. You do good things, and karma will do good things to you.”

Okay, thought Apple, so I’m not signing up for truly altruistic reasons. But I’m still going to help people. Maybe Brooklyn was right, too, about karma. Apple thought that maybe some higher power would appreciate her volunteer efforts and get Zen to notice her. And then maybe after she and Zen collected clothes, they could grab a burger or something at the club’s burger shack. Apple smiled. Plan Z was back in action, baby.

Brooklyn grabbed the clipboard from Apple’s hand to check to see who else had signed up. “Hey, Zen has signed up too.”

“He has?” Apple said, trying to act surprised.

“Yup, right here,” said Brooklyn, pointing out Zen’s name. “You know, I’d love to help out. But what with all my schoolwork, and working on my yoga poses, I’m too busy. Plus the Helicopter would never let me do it, I’m sure. But Apple, you should volunteer at the same time as Zen. At least that way you might have some fun.”

“Is that possible?” Apple asked Poppy. “I mean, you did say you have two people sit at the same table.”

“Let me put a note down. I think I’ll be able to organize it. Leave it up to me. For the daughter of Dr. Bee Bee Berg, I’ll make it happen,” Poppy said with a smile.

Apple had to admit that sometimes being the daughter of the Queen of Hearts had its perks.

Apple headed home after school, enjoying the half-hour walk, feeling like a million dollars. She was excited again about her Plan Z, which was
finally
moving forward.

She opened the front door to find Aunt Hazel sprawled out on the couch reading
US Weekly
.

“What are you doing here all by yourself?” Apple asked her aunt. “Do you spend your entire days here? Don’t you have somewhere else to hang out? What, did you just come back here after you dropped me off this morning?” She looked around. All around Aunt Hazel were bowls and glasses and tissues. It looked like she hadn’t left the couch in hours. She was always such a slob. “It looks like a storm passed through here,” Apple said.

“Apple, please. I took the day off. I took a mental health day,” her aunt said.

“A mental day? Is that like a sick day?” Apple asked.

“I needed a mental
health
day.”

“Guy trouble?” Apple asked her aunt. As if she even had to ask!

“Kyle broke up with me,” her aunt said blandly.

“Kyle? Who’s
Kyle?”
Apple asked. She couldn’t remember a Kyle.

“Oh, just some guy I met last night,” was Hazel’s answer.

“I thought you were getting over Rupert!” Apple gasped.

“His name was Roger!” her aunt yelled.

“Right. Whatever. Who is Kyle then?” Apple asked. Suddenly, seeing her dreary crazy aunt was deflating her high.

Aunt Hazel sighed. “I need to tell you what happened,” she said to Apple.

“No, really, it’s okay. You don’t have to tell me. Really. You can keep it to yourself. That’s fine by me,” Apple pleaded. “Some things a person should just keep to themselves.”

“No, I
want
to tell you. I need to talk about it,” her aunt insisted, much to Apple’s dismay.

“Are you sure you want to be telling this stuff to me?” Apple asked. “Not that I’m not interested. It’s just that I’m only fifteen. I’m not sure I’m old enough to hear all the gory details.”

Her aunt ignored her and continued talking.

“We had a great night. We laughed. We talked. He invited me to spend the night at his place. Then this morning, after a wildly passionate night where—”

“Can we just skip over the more intimate details please,” Apple moaned, interrupting.

“Right. Well, this morning Kyle was taking a shower and I couldn’t help myself. I started sneaking around his place. I mean, how was I to know that he takes two-minute showers? He caught me while I was looking in an old shoebox in his closet. He kicked me out,” Aunt Hazel told her, tears now running down her face.

“Well, what did you find?” Apple asked.

“What do you mean?” her aunt asked.

“In the shoebox? What did you find while you were sneaking around in his closet in the shoebox? Was it dirty pictures or something?” Apple asked, genuinely curious now.

“No. It was just shoes,” Crazy Aunt Hazel said, before really breaking down.

Oh … my … God, Apple thought. She couldn’t help but burst out laughing.