Apple's Angst Read online

  “Please let me look!” she begged over and over.

  “No,” was always the answer. Did she look awful? It was certainly taking a long time. Apple wondered if this was because she was “real.” Perhaps people who were really meant to be in the pages of Angst didn’t need so much time and effort put into making them look good.

  “Can you please, then, just tell me what you think? You’re killing me here! I can’t take it!” Apple went to run her hand through her now straight and smooth-as-a-baby’s-skin hair, but Celia swatted it away. “Patience, my dear. Beauty is all about patience. I say you are going to wish you were born with hair like this.”

  “Are you guys ready? We go to print in three hours. We need her photo taken pronto!” Michael said walking in. “Where is she?”

  “Michael? It’s me!” Apple said.

  “Apple?” Michael said, hopping back. “Be still my heart!”

  “They made me!” Apple said.

  “You look … you look stunning. You look … well, you look like a model. Celia, again, I bow to you! Will you take her to the studio in five? Apple, I feel like crying, you look so beautiful.”

  He reached out and held on to her hand, like he was a proud older brother. Apple suddenly felt calmer. She instinctively trusted Michael’s opinion, like she trusted Guy’s opinion on clothes and makeup.

  “No problem,” said Celia. She seemed very proud of herself.

  “Can I look now?” Apple begged after Michael left.

  “Yes,” Celia said, spinning her chair around so Apple faced the mirror.

  Apple couldn’t believe what—rather, who—she was looking at. Her once shoulder-length boingy, curly hair was now so long and straight it reached halfway down her back. And Celia was right. Apple had cheekbones, and her eyes looked bigger and wider! Even Apple, who rarely thought she looked good, thought she looked … stunning!

  Apple was so impressed with the result she jumped up and hugged Celia and the other makeup artists. “I love it. I love it!” Apple screeched.

  “Celia does not make mistakes. Please, you have makeup on,” she said, pulling away from Apple’s embrace. “But I’m glad you’re glad. You look like a movie star now, yes? And that’s what we always aspire to here at Angst. Follow me.”

  It soon became clear that although at present she may have looked like a movie star, she definitely didn’t know how to act like one.

  The cranky photographer apparently was not used to working with novices.

  “Smile! No, not like that. You’re smirking! Okay, smile! Not so much teeth! More serious!” he demanded over and over, as Apple sat.

  She wanted to yell, “I’m not smirking! This is how I smile!”

  “How big is this photograph going to be?” she asked Michael, who came to check in at one point.

  “About the size of a postage stamp,” Michael answered. “Maybe a bit larger. We’ll see.”

  “All this for a tiny photo?” she wondered aloud.

  “Oh, you’d be surprised, Apple. Our readers see the most minuscule detail. We get thousands of letters and rarely do any of them have to do with the stories—more like, ‘Why are her roots showing?’ and ‘Where can I get that writer’s glasses?’ The head furniture also makes you stand out, makes readers know that you are somebody important. And we might use some of the photos for advertising purposes—we’ll see,” he answered casually.

  “Really? Am I that important?” Apple asked.

  “You are now. I read your first draft. I did a little editing. Nancy did a little editing. For your first attempt, it wasn’t bad. Not bad at all. Congratulations! Next Monday the first issue featuring Apple’sAngst will be on stands and on doorsteps everywhere. Excited?” Michael asked.

  “Nervous,” Apple said. She felt comfortable telling Michael the truth. She realized that she had been spending more time with Michael these days than with her own family. He was starting to feel like family.

  “Well, you’ve had a long day. You can go now. Don’t forget to start practicing for your Angst TV spot. Basically, you’re going to read a letter and you’ll answer it. You’re going to have to speak on your toes, but I’m sure you’ve learned a hell of a lot from your mother, right?” Michael asked.

  Apple couldn’t help but lie. “Yup.”

  “Is Emme still here?” Apple asked, finding herself caring about her colleague.

  “I told her to go too,” Michael said. “She spends so much time here! Have a good night, sweetie.”

  Apple smiled at Michael as she left. She ran into Emme as she was walking out of the building.

  Although Emme had been nice, friendly even, to Apple earlier that day, Apple was worried she’d say something nasty about her new hair and how she looked wearing professional makeup.

  “Apple?” Emme asked.

  “You like?” Apple asked, jokingly shaking her now long, straight hair side to side.

  “Do I like? You look gorgeous,” Emme sighed.

  “Come on!” Apple responded modestly.

  “No, seriously. You look absolutely fantastic. Your hair is so awesome. You should straighten it more often. It looks so thick and luxurious and long. People pay tons of money to get hair extensions to look like the hair you now have,” Emme said. Then she asked softly, “Can I feel it?”

  “Sure,” Apple said.

  Emme ran her manicured hand over Apple’s new hair. Apple didn’t mind at all.

  “Hey, you want to go out for a drink? You look old enough with all that makeup on. I don’t think we’d have a problem. And I’ve never had a problem,” Emme said with a wink.

  Apple looked out the window to see Zen’s white pickup truck pulling up.

  “Emme, I would love to. I mean it. It’s just that I’ve made previous plans,” Apple said. She was annoyed that she had to meet Zen on Happy’s behalf. She could have gone out with Emme and gotten to know her better.

  “Is that your boyfriend?” Emme asked curiously.

  “No! He’s just a friend. His name is Zen. He’s great. I do have a boyfriend. His name is Lyon. I’d love for you to meet him. Maybe we can all hang out sometime,” Apple suggested. She didn’t want Emme’s offer to go out tonight to be a one-time occurrence.

  “Sure. He looks super cute. Oh, my God, he is cute,” Emme said, as Zen drove up in front of them.

  “That’s what everyone says at school,” Apple told Emme.

  “Is he single?”

  “Not exactly,” Apple said.

  “What do you mean?” Emme pressed.

  “Well, he’s kind of going out with my best friend Happy,” Apple answered.

  “He’s the one you two were fighting over?” Emme said, looking at Apple with wide eyes.

  “Well, it wasn’t really a fight. He chose Happy, not me,” Apple said quietly. “Let me introduce you.”

  Emme looked at her strangely but followed her to the truck. Zen opened his window.

  “Hey, Zen. This is my colleague Emme,” Apple said, trying to sound chipper.

  Zen looked confused. Why wouldn’t he? He wasn’t expecting Emme, or even Apple, for that matter. He was expecting his girlfriend, Happy.

  Zen played it cool, though, even after Apple tried casually to mention that Happy wasn’t going to meet him after all. Emme shot Apple a questioning glance, but there was no way Apple could explain all this to her.

  Then Zen really looked at Apple. His jaw, literally, dropped.

  “Jesus, you look different, Apple!” Zen said.

  “Different good? Different bad?” she asked, suddenly feeling very insecure.

  “Different hot,” Zen said.

  “See? I told you. I should go,” Emme interrupted. “I don’t want to ruin your evening.”

  “Do you need a ride?” asked the ever-thoughtful Zen.

  “No, I’m good. See you, Apple. And it was nice to meet you, Zen.”

  “Have a good night, Emme,” Apple said sincerely. “And definitely a raincheck on going out after work one
day, okay?”

  “Absolutely,” responded Emme, before waving goodbye and walking back into the building.

  Apple walked around and jumped into the passenger seat.

  “So where is she?” Zen asked, obviously asking about Happy.

  “She suddenly got a migraine and had to leave. She told me she’d call you later. She felt awful about it,” Apple said. She hated lying to Zen, but Happy had begged her for this favor. She hated to think that Happy was out with another guy behind sweet Zen’s back. And, worse, Apple was covering for her!

  “Right. She is so trying to hide from me,” Zen said, laughing.

  “That’s not true,” Apple said weakly. “She really did feel sick.”

  “Right. Whatever. So now what? Are you hungry? Because I’m starving,” Zen said.

  Apple realized that she hadn’t eaten anything since this morning, and even then she had only eaten a muffin.

  “Actually, I’m starving too,” Apple admitted.

  “You want to go for a pizza?” Zen asked casually.

  “I’d eat your left arm right now I’m so hungry,” Apple replied.

  “Okay, pizza it is,” Zen said, driving off.

  When they arrived at a casual, popular pizzeria, Zen pulled out Apple’s chair so she could sit down. A number of students from Cactus High were there. She wondered if they would start talking about her and Zen having dinner together, alone. This could turn into a nightmare, thought Apple, if word got back to Lyon.

  “Did you notice that everyone in here stared at you when you walked in?” Zen asked softly.

  “No, they didn’t,” Apple protested, though in fact she had seen several eyes turn in her direction. For the first time in her life, she knew what it felt like to be Happy, who was always noticed wherever she went, even when she was dressed in sweats, which was rare but did happen on occasion. But were they staring at her because of her new look, or because she was with Zen?

  “You look beautiful. Have I mentioned that?” Zen said.

  “You’re just saying that because you’re weak from hunger,” Apple joked.

  “No, I’m not,” he said. His voice sounded different. He was acting strange, Apple thought. Everyone was acting strange. First Emme had been nice to her, and now Zen was acting differently too. Apple was uncomfortable, so she launched into a description of her day at Angst.

  She did not bring up Happy and neither did Zen. They laughed about the fact that Mr. Kelly was going to be a family member and how crazy her aunt has been over bridal magazines, and Apple confessed her mixed feelings toward Emme, who had seemed nice today but was too ambitious for Apple to be completely comfortable around.

  “I can see why you would have to be careful around her,” Zen said.

  “What do you mean?” Apple asked.

  “Well, you said that Emme didn’t grow up with much, that she had to save for fashion magazines. We’re very lucky. Sometimes we forget how lucky we are. I can see you just coming in, obviously from a fortunate background, and her being intimidated or jealous,” Zen said, leaning back in his chair.

  “Well, you saw her. She has nothing to be jealous about. She gorgeous. But you’re absolutely right about the other things. Here I was thinking she was a royal bitch. She may have judged me, but I judged her too. I guess I can be a bitch too,” laughed Apple.

  Zen and Apple wiped their mouths at the same time.

  “Also, I realized that all my friends I’ve known for years,” said Apple. “Happy and Brooklyn have been my best friends since first grade. It’s like I don’t even know how to make new friends.”

  “Well, you should try.”

  “I think I’m going to,” Apple said. “I’m stuffed.”

  “You look tired,” Zen said, and signaled the waiter for the bill. When it arrived, he grabbed it before Apple could make a move. It weirded Apple out. Zen paying made it feel like a date. She furtively glanced around the room to see if anyone noticed. They didn’t seem to.

  “Is my face starting to fall off? I feel like I have ten pounds of makeup on,” said Apple.

  “Well, I prefer my women natural. You do look great, though. Let’s get you home,” he said.

  They reached Zen’s car and he went to unlock Apple’s door. Suddenly, he grabbed her face and kissed her. Apple, shocked, pushed him away.

  “Oh, God. I’m so sorry, Apple. I didn’t mean it. It was an accident. I just got caught up in the moment,” Zen said apologetically. He looked mortified. “Please forgive me. Let’s pretend it didn’t happen.”

  “No, wait,” Apple said, placing a gentle hand on his arm. This time, she leaned in and kissed him. Then she tore herself away. What if someone saw them? Luckily, it didn’t seem like anyone was around. She hopped into the car. Apple could not deny it. Kissing Zen was everything she imagined it would be. That is, what she used to imagine it would be.

  Zen got in the car and pulled away. Apple was happy it was late and dark. She was sure her face was bright red. They didn’t speak.

  “Wait. Don’t drive up to my house yet,” Apple said.

  “Okay,” Zen said, pulling over down the street from her house.

  She looked at him. He looked at her. They started kissing again.

  “I don’t want you to go,” Zen whispered in her ear.

  “I don’t want to go either,” she said. “But we shouldn’t be doing this.”

  “I know,” said Zen. “Let’s never talk about this, okay? It will be our secret. It will never happen again.”

  “Good. Just as long as we’re on the same page. This never happened!” repeated Apple.

  “Right. But, Apple? You’re a great kisser,” Zen said.

  “So are you, Zen. So are you,” Apple said, getting out of the car, trying to find her breath. “But this never happened.”

  “Nope,” said Zen, and they smiled.

  Apple walked down the street to her home, grinning. She shouldn’t be smiling. Still, her smile wouldn’t go away.

  Apple blamed the chemicals it took to straighten her hair and the makeup and the fact she had barely eaten all day for her indiscretion with Zen. Before she had straight hair and a face full of makeup, she never would have cheated on her boyfriend—the boyfriend who had texted her three times and left two voicemail messages while she was making out with Zen. Not to mention that Zen was still dating Happy, even if Happy didn’t want to be in the relationship anymore. Happy might be begging Apple to get together with Zen, but technically, they were still a couple. Apple’s lips tingled as she walked up to her front door. What had she been thinking? The guilt started to set in, but before it could hit full force, her aunt opened the door from the inside, looking like a madwoman.

  “Thanks a lot, Apple. You’re, like, the worst maid of honor in history!” Crazy Aunt Hazel fumed.

  “Oh, let it be,” said Apple’s mother, as Apple walked past her aunt into the house. “She just got back from work and—OH, MY GOD! What did you do? What did you do?”

  “What did I do?” Apple said, trying not to sound guilty.

  Did her mother, who had the uncanny skill of knowing what was going on in people’s minds, and who was such a great reader of people’s faces, know that Apple had just fooled around with Zen? Was it possible the kiss was written all over Apple’s face? Oh God, no, thought Apple.

  “What do you mean ‘What did you do’?” Apple asked, again gulping in fear.

  “Your hair!” her mother said, her mouth agape.

  After kissing Zen, her crush for years, she had completely forgotten about her new look.

  “Oh, right! Celia, a hairdresser to the stars, did it,” Apple said, relieved. “Do you like it?”

  “I love it! Do you think she’ll do my hair for my wedding?” Aunt Hazel asked, momentarily forgiving Apple for not being home earlier to help her pick out white wedding gowns or gloves or tiaras or whatever it was Apple was supposed to do tonight.

  “No offense, but I don’t think Celia does hair and makeup fo
r brides,” Apple said. She didn’t mean for the words to come out snottily, but they did.

  “Fine! Keep your hoity-toity hairdresser to yourself,” her aunt huffed, running her fingers through Apple’s hair. “Who knew your hair was so long? I want to look like you on my wedding day! It’s not fair. I want good hair on my wedding day!” her aunt said, her voice starting to rise.

  “I liked it better before,” Dr. Berg said. “It was more you.”

  “That’s just what I was thinking,” Apple said.

  Because what was not her, thought Apple, was kissing her best friend’s boyfriend and cheating on her own.

  “I have to go make a phone call,” she announced.

  “Apple! I swear to God, I’m going to kill you. You promised that you’d help me look through these magazines,” Hazel moaned.

  “But I really have to call Lyon. I haven’t spoken to him all day. He’s going to kill me! And I have to check in on Happy. I’ll just be a few minutes, I promise,” said Apple, racing upstairs to her room before her aunt could argue.

  Apple shut her bedroom door and immediately dialed Lyon.

  “Hey, you!” she said, trying to sound apologetic and sweet. She prayed her voice didn’t give anything away.

  “Hey! Where have you been?” Lyon asked.

  “At work. You are going to be so shocked the next time you see me,” Apple said.

  “And when will I have the pleasure of that?” he asked. Apple thought he sounded snide. But who knew?

  “Tomorrow night. For sure. Me and you, okay? I’m sorry I’ve been so busy. I’m trying to juggle this new job and my aunt’s wedding and school and you, and I’m messing everything up,” Apple moaned, feeling a rush of guilt. She needed to hear that he was still into her.

  “No, you’re not. You know I’m here for you. I just feel like I haven’t seen you,” Lyon said. Apple felt relieved. She was so lucky to have him.

  “Tomorrow for sure, okay?” Apple said. “I miss you.”

  “I miss you, too, Apple,” Lyon said, sounding tired.

  “I miss you more,” Apple said. Maybe she was going overboard, but she needed Lyon to know that she wasn’t interested in Zen—or she needed to tell herself that—and that she was only interested in him. Zen and Apple’s kissing had been a mistake. No one would ever find out about it. If no one knew, then it could just be forgotten about.