Apple's Angst Page 13

  Apple placed her phone back down on the table.

  “Aren’t you going to respond?” Happy pressed, staring at Apple intensely with her green eyes.

  “Nah. Don’t feel like it,” Apple said, imitating Happy.

  Happy laughed. “See, I’m not the only one.”

  “No, you’re right. You’re not.”

  Brooklyn raced in, looking like she had just finished a marathon.

  “You have no idea how I had to get out of Mr. Kelly’s class,” she moaned. She called out to the waitress, “Can I have a large wheatgrass with some protein powder?”

  “This is a coffee store, sweetie,” the waitress responded sarcastically. “We serve coffee and tea.”

  “Okay, then I’ll have a non-fat decaf soy latte with extra foam,” Brooklyn ordered. “Mr. Kelly gave out a pop quiz today! What is up with that? I took one look at it and all I saw were numbers. Nothing made sense to me. I might as well have been trying to read another language.”

  “So how did you get out of it?” Happy asked.

  “I put up my hand and said I had to go. Mr. Kelly looked at me like I was just trying to get out of the pop quiz.”

  “Which you were,” laughed Happy.

  “Well, yeah. I wanted to meet you guys! Why shouldn’t I be allowed to take an ‘emotional day’ too?”

  “So how did you get out?” Happy asked.

  “I said, ‘I’m really sorry, Mr. Kelly. I really have to go. It’s an emergency.’ Then he said, ‘What’s the emergency, Brooklyn?’ So I wrapped my arms around my stomach and said it was personal. And he said if it’s so important that I have to get out of a quiz, then I can tell him in front of the class what my emergency is.”

  “So?” Apple pressed.

  “So I told him I had ‘women’s issues.’ I told him I needed to go find a tampon immediately because I just got my period.”

  “Oh, my God!” laughed Apple. She tried to imagine Mr. Kelly, who somehow looked embarrassed all the time anyway, reacting to that.

  “Well, it worked! I’m here. He just blushed and shooed me out of the room. Guys cannot handle the word ‘period.’ God, you should have seen his face when I said ‘tampon.’ Priceless. Anyway, what have I missed?”

  Before they could answer, both Happy’s and Apple’s phones started to vibrate again. They looked at each other and laughed, while Brooklyn looked perplexed.

  Apple looked at hers. It was from Lyon. Again. “I miss you,” it read.

  “Who was it from?” Happy asked Apple.

  “Lyon, of course. He misses me. Yours?”

  “Zen, of course. He wants to meet me tonight to talk,” groaned Happy.

  “What is going on with you two?” Brooklyn asked, watching them put their gadgets back in their purses. “Aren’t either of you going to respond to your boyfriends?”

  “Nope!” they answered in unison. Apple looked at Brooklyn’s shirt, which today read, “What is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?”

  The T-shirt was so appropriate, thought Apple.

  “Really, what is going on with you two?” Brooklyn demanded again.

  “I’m hiding from Zen, plotting an exit strategy,” said Happy.

  “I’m hiding from Lyon, who is being annoying and overbearing.”

  “Enough of boy talk,” Happy announced when the server brought over Brooklyn’s coffee, thankfully in a takeaway cup. “Let’s shop!”

  So they did. Happy had the amazing ability to see something on a rack on the other side of a store and know instantly if it would fit or not. Two hours later, Apple felt fashionably satiated. Her mother was probably going to have a fit over how much money she had spent on her credit card. Apple already had planned her argument: I needed the clothes for my job! As her mother always said, if you look good on the outside, you’ll feel better on the inside. Apple planned to throw that line back in her face too, if necessary.

  She had called Hazel and asked her to pick her up and take her over to Angst, because Happy had made an emergency therapist appointment. Apple had a feeling it was because her new crush, Hot and Disturbed Guy, probably also had an appointment. Luckily, Apple was able to convince her aunt that she could take a break from wedding planning for twenty minutes.

  “I’m coming by tonight with magazines. You’re not getting out of it. You have to help me. You’re my maid of honor, remember? And so far, you haven’t done nada for me!” her aunt had griped as Apple got out of the car outside Angst.

  “Okay, okay,” Apple had mumbled. “We don’t have enough time to get all the stuff you need to get done for a wedding.”

  “That’s why I need your help! I want to become Mrs. Kelly, and I want to do it looking fabulous!” her aunt said dreamily.

  “Okay, I can’t listen to this. I’ll see you later,” Apple said, jumping out.

  Not only had she arrived at Angst in a good mood, thanks to spending the day shopping with her friends, but Apple had arrived early.

  “Hey, Emme,” Apple said as she plopped her purse on the floor near her desk. She felt confident wearing one of her new outfits, a slim-fitting, simple black dress with a strap over one shoulder that had received “two thumbs up” from Happy when she tried it on. Happy’s “two thumbs up” meant Apple looked really, really good.

  “You’re here early. What’s up?” Emme asked.

  “Just trying to show that I’m a good employee,” Apple answered lightly.

  “I love what you’re wearing,” Emme said. “Where did you get that?”

  Apple couldn’t believe it. It was the first nice thing Emme had ever said to her. It was the most Emme had ever said to her. Maybe Emme was being nice because she finally was dressed like she belonged at Angst.

  “Thanks. I love your earrings,” Apple responded. “I just bought it at one of my favorite boutiques.” Apple didn’t want to tell Emme the name. She didn’t feel that generous.

  Always compliment someone after they compliment you, Dr. Berg always advised.

  “Well, here we are in the dungeon. Again. I wonder when we’ll get to spend time, you know, above ground?” Emme said sarcastically.

  There was no doubt about it. Emme was acting different. Could she possibly have a sense of humor too? Had Apple totally misjudged her?

  “I thought you liked it down here. You seemed to be enjoying folding clothes for hours,” Apple said carefully.

  “Please! Do you think I signed up to work at the Gap? I don’t think so. But I do know that I love Angst. I’ve always loved magazines. I didn’t grow up with money. My family was quite poor. And I would save for weeks just to buy a Vogue magazine. All the other girls were buying clothes and shoes, but I was saving for Vogue and Elle and W. So for me to be here, even down here, is really a dream come true. I plan to work here forever. I want to be the editor someday, and if this is what I have to do to get there, I will.”

  “Wow,” said Apple. Apple knew she lived a privileged life, as did most of her friends. She had no idea how to respond to Emme, who was suddenly being so open with her. Apple didn’t need to, thankfully. Emme wasn’t finished speaking.

  “I’m sorry if I seemed harsh the first few days. I just really am serious about this job, and I guess I judged you, which wasn’t fair.” Emme sounded sincere. “I judged you because I didn’t think you were going to take it seriously, or had to.”

  “That’s okay,” Apple said. “But if we’re going to be stuck working beside each other in a room the size of an oven, we should probably try to get along. I’m not a bad person, I swear.”

  “Well, except for what you did to your best friend by trying to steal her boyfriend,” laughed Emme, to Apple’s horror. “Yes, I saw that episode of Queen of Hearts. It’s still on YouTube. More than 100,000 people have viewed it, you know.”

  Apple was mortified. Would she ever live down what she had done?

  “God, let’s just say I was a different person back then. Trust me, everything has changed,” Apple said. />
  Apple wondered what had gotten into Emme. Why was she suddenly being so nice to her? It didn’t matter. Apple didn’t mind the new Emme. Though she wasn’t convinced they would be friends, this was at least better than having Emme not talk to her and shoot her dirty looks for hours. And what did she really know about meeting new people? Maybe this was how all friendships started. Come to think of it, Emme was the first new person Apple had met for years who had a possibility of becoming a friend.

  Michael suddenly appeared. He looked handsome, as always, in a three-piece gray suit and a pink tie, his hair perfectly slicked back.

  “Okay, you two. Today is going to be your first foray into the real world of Angst magazine. It’s production day. No one will have time to eat. You will not have time to go to the bathroom. Whatever anyone asks you to do, you will do. Capiche?” he asked, clapping his hands twice.

  “Do you mean we’re—” started Emme. Apple knew she was about to ask if they were going to get out of the dungeon today.

  “No time for questions. Apple, your advice column? Need it now!” Michael said sternly, but with a smile.

  Apple scrambled in her bag and handed him the piece of paper. She told him she had also e-mailed him a version. Michael grabbed the piece of paper from her hands. “Great. Now, Apple, we need to get your ‘head furniture’ done. We need it, like, yesterday!”

  “What?” Apple asked.

  “Your ‘head furniture.’ The photo of you that goes on the top of your advice column? That’s called head furniture,” Michael said. Then added, “It’s so cute when our new interns learn the language of the business.”

  “Head furniture? That’s cute?” Apple said.

  “No, we don’t do cute here at Angst. Which is why I need you to go see Celia in cosmetics so she can do something with your hair and makeup.”

  “My hair?” Apple asked, putting a hand to her head.

  “Yes, your hair. Don’t get me wrong—I like your hair. But I think you need a bit of a makeover. Celia is the best. In her hands, you’ll walk out feeling and looking like a model. Don’t look so scared, dear. She’s the best!” Michael repeated.

  “Are you talking about Celia DeFenoyl? The Celia Defenoyl, from New York?” Emme asked eagerly.

  “Good for you, Emme. That’s exactly who I’m talking about,” Michael said, grabbing a piece of licorice from a bowl on Emme’s desk. “Keep me away from this. I’m not supposed to be eating sweets. If I have one piece, I won’t be able to stop.”

  “Oh, my God, Apple,” Emme said. “She’s done everyone from J. Lo to Natalie Portman to Jessica Simpson. Damn, you are so lucky.”

  “Go now!” Michael demanded. “And, Emme, don’t worry. I have a something just as cool for you to work on. I need you to organize all those clothes over there by shade and color.”

  He gave Emme a sympathetic smile.

  Poor Emme, Apple thought. She felt awful that Emme was stuck folding clothes while she was going to get a makeover and “head furniture” for her own column. She felt especially guilty now she knew that working at Angst really was Emme’s dream job, and that she was willing to do anything to work her way up to the very top. She could see why Emme had been annoyed with her from the start. Here Apple was, being treated like someone special, and Emme was folding clothes. If their positions were reversed, thought Apple, she’d be annoyed too.

  Apple followed Michael into the hair-and-makeup room and stood at the door for what seemed like ten minutes before anyone noticed her. Michael had said he had a “million things to attend to” but had asked Apple if she’d like him to stick around. Apple had told him she could handle it herself. But now she wasn’t sure what she was supposed to be doing.

  “Yes? What is it? Why do you stand there like a statue and not say anything?” a blond pixie asked. “I see you standing there. I wait for you to say something, but you say nothing. So what is it you want?”

  “I’m Apple. I’m supposed to get ready for my head furnishing or something. Michael told me to come here,” Apple answered nervously.

  “Oh, yes, yes. Apple. The advice columnist extraordinaire.”

  “Well, I’m not sure about that,” Apple said modestly.

  “To work in this business, you must think you are the best. You must act like you are the best, even if you know it not to be true. You must have others believe it to be true. Take a seat over there. You have a lot of hair. Gorgeous. But I have a brilliant idea for that hair,” Celia said, staring at Apple like she was a science project.

  Apple gulped. Her hair was the one thing that had always made her feel safe. She used it to hide her face. Everyone always complimented her on her hair. Sloan Starr had complimented her on her hair! What could Celia’s brilliant idea be?

  “We will straighten it!” she said.

  “Oh, my friend Happy has straightened it before,” Apple said, letting out a sigh of relief. “With her straightening iron. It took forever.”

  “Not like this. I have this new product that will straighten your hair for months. It will make it silky smooth. You will not even remember that you once had curly hair. It will be so much easier to take care of. It will bring out your cheekbones and your lips. You will be able to do so much more with it. What do you think?” Celia asked, in a tone that said she didn’t really care what she thought.

  Was she ready to straighten her hair for months? Did she have the choice to say no? As she was debating, Fancy Nancy walked into the room.

  “Celia!” she said, with a bright smile.

  “Nancy!” Celia replied, with the same warmth.

  They gave each other a peck on both cheeks.

  “I see you are working on Apple for her photo shoot today. I overheard you say something about straightening her hair with that new product. That’s from Italy, yes?”

  “Yes. Exactly. It’s all the rage there,” Celia said. “People fly from all over the world to buy it! They won’t even ship it. You have to know exactly the right people.”

  “Brilliant,” said Fancy Nancy.

  How could she say no to Fancy Nancy—or Celia, who clearly had already made up her mind?

  “Let’s do it!” Apple said, trying to sound excited, like Celia and Fancy Nancy. Maybe she should be excited. After all, both Celia, makeup artist and hairdresser to the stars, and Fancy Nancy thought it was a “brilliant” idea.

  “It will take a couple of hours,” Celia said.

  “Good thing you came in early today,” said Nancy. “And good for you for taking risks. We like people at Angst who take risks.”

  With that, she left the room and Celia got to work, washing Apple’s hair first, then massaging in awful-smelling chemical lotion, and finally, putting a plastic shower cap over her hair.

  At least, Apple thought, no matter how badly this turned out, she could tell people that she got her hair done by the same person who does J. Lo and other celebrities. Apple regretted not cutting at least one of her boings off, as a memory. She felt like she imagined a six-year-old must losing her first tooth.

  Happy called while Apple was sitting under a hair dryer, holding a scarf over her nose and hoping that she wasn’t inhaling too much of the chemical product, the scent of which was making her nauseous.

  “What are you doing?” Happy asked.

  “I’ve been sitting under a dryer for, like, six months now. My hair is getting straightened. I think I’ve lost half my brain cells smelling all the chemicals,” Apple whispered.

  “Straightened?” Happy asked.

  “Oh, yes. Apparently with this new product from Italy I won’t have curly hair for months!”

  “Months? Are you serious?” Happy asked. “But I love your hair. Are you sure about this? I love your hair exactly the way it is.”

  “Stop saying that. It’s too late. I’m freaked out enough. I think I may cry. I couldn’t say no. They weren’t going to listen to me,” Apple moaned. “And it happened so fast!”

  “I’m sure it will turn out fine. A
nd, hey, it’s only a couple of months, right?” Happy said supportively.

  “I guess,” Apple responded despondently. Though she had always complained about her hair, Apple knew there was nothing worse than a bad haircut.

  “I have something else you can’t say no to,” Happy said.

  “What?” Apple asked.

  “Remember how Zen texted me and wanted to meet tonight ‘to talk’? I told him that I was hanging out with you at Angst today and couldn’t meet him until later. He said that was cool. But the thing is, I don’t want to meet him. Please, Apple, please? He’ll be out front at around ten. Just get in the car with him and tell him I suddenly got sick and left early,” Happy begged. “I’m hoping to hook up with Therapy Boy.”

  “You can’t be serious, Happy! You’re going to have to face him one of these days. What am I going to do with him?” Apple asked.

  “Do whatever you want! I know I have to see him and have ‘the talk.’ Just not today. I can’t. I just can’t. Please do this for me.”

  “But what am I going to say to him?” Apple whispered. She didn’t think anyone at Angst would appreciate her talking about anything that wasn’t work-related. And she couldn’t believe she was going to cover for Happy, who was meeting up with another guy!

  “I don’t care what you say really. Say I wasn’t feeling well. Please just go for me,” Happy begged.

  Happy continued to plead, but Celia had finally come back to fetch Apple.

  She pointed at Apple’s ear. “Off! Now! We have twenty minutes to get you to the photo studio.”

  “Happy, I have to go,” Apple said frantically.

  “So you’ll do it?” Happy asked.

  “Yes, yes. Fine. I’ll do it. Got to run!” Apple said, hanging up on Happy, who was in the middle of saying thank—

  Everyone today, it seemed, was forcing Apple into doing things she wasn’t entirely comfortable with. No one would let her say no. Why did Apple feel that she was letting everyone walk over her?

  No one let Apple look in the mirror as they did her makeup and finished drying her hair. She had two people brushing out her hair and two others working on her makeup, while her back faced the mirror.