Rotten Apple Read online

  “I knew that would get your attention. I don’t know. I think I might like Zen,” Happy said.

  “Like him, like him?” Apple asked, gulping. She was trying to act calm even though she felt anything but.

  “Apple, you have to swear not to say anything. Promise!” Happy said. “Except to Brooklyn. But that’s all!”

  “When did this happen?” Apple said, trying not to sound as shocked as she was feeling. “You never even knew he existed before today. You only talked to him for, like, five minutes after school.”

  “Well, sometimes that’s all it takes. If you have chemistry, you have chemistry, as your mother just said. And it’s not true that I never knew he existed. Of course I knew he existed. We’ve all been going to school together forever. We’ve all known each other for years,” Happy said defensively.

  “You know what I mean,” Apple said. “You’ve never really talked to him before, that’s all I’m saying.”

  “Well, I did today. And he’s really interesting. I mean, he just spent months in Australia surfing! I would love to do that. And then seeing him looking so different, and then actually talking to him, made me see him in a whole new light. I never knew he was so funny and so cool. And he’s sweet too.” Happy was practically gushing.

  This cannot be happening, Apple thought. Her best friend—make that her best friend who always looked like she just walked out of the pages of a fashion magazine—could not have a crush on her Zen at the same time she did.

  It will be okay, Apple tried to reason to herself. This is Happy we’re talking about—Happy who has flings with lifeguards whose last names she doesn’t even know. This was just Happy being carefree, friendly, and flirtatious.

  She couldn’t possibly really be “in like” with Zen so suddenly. Even if she was, her feelings could be gone by tomorrow.

  Happy was still chattering on.

  “Do you think it’s strange that I like him? You can tell me the truth, Apple. What do you think?” she asked.

  “No, it’s just that, well, you just got out of a relationship with that lifeguard, right? Maybe you’re just feeling like you need someone to fill that void.” Apple could hear her mother’s voice in her own.

  “I told you! That was just a fling! It didn’t mean anything. Zen is different. He’s really—Okay, shh, the show is starting again. I need to know who Cybil will choose—Dave or Mark.”

  Happy had gone back to immersing herself in the love lives of others.

  Apple, on the other hand, had completely stopped paying attention to the show. Her mind was on what Happy had just told her. Happy may like Zen. Happy may be into Zen.

  She was so wrapped up in this thought that she didn’t even notice that Queen of Hearts had ended and the credits were rolling.

  “Can you believe she chose Dave? But I guess it’s like your mother said—you choose the one you know treats their mother well. And you could just tell Dave was the type of guy who treats his mother well.” Happy chatted away. “Crap. I think that’s Sailor honking out front. I told her to come get me at six after she finished her dance class. Thanks for letting me watch, Apple. I’ll see you tomorrow. And remember—do not say a word to anyone about what I told you about Zen! It may be nothing. But it sure does make going to school a little more interesting.” Happy blew Apple a kiss goodbye and headed out the door.

  Apple could only hope that this was true, that it was nothing. Zen was her reason to look forward to school. She didn’t want to share that with anyone, not even Happy.

  Apple headed to her room. She needed to compose herself. She needed to think. And she knew that the only way to make herself feel better was to write to ED. Writing in her private journal was the one time she felt she could collect her thoughts. It was her therapy. Just like some people liked to talk out their problems, Apple liked to write. Sitting down at her desk, Apple saw the “on” button was already lit up.

  That’s weird, Apple thought. Why is my computer already on? She could have sworn that she had turned it off after writing to ED that morning before going to school. She touched her mouse pad and up came her most recent ED entry, the one about her being nervous to go to school and about Plan Z and about reading her mother’s book. There’s no way I didn’t shut this down, she thought. There’s no way! Apple always made a point of turning off her computer. She started to bite her fingernails, frowning, while looking at the screen.

  There was only one reason Apple could think of that her computer would be on. My mother, my damn nosy, snooping mother, she thought. How dare she!

  Did her mother have no boundaries? Dr. Bee Bee Berg is the worst mother in the world, Apple thought, slamming her laptop shut. She was no longer even in the mood to write to ED. First her best friend had disappointed her, and now her mother. This day sucked. She tried to think like Brooklyn. “The future doesn’t matter, the past doesn’t matter. It’s all about the present. Think positive thoughts and the world will respond positively back.”

  It was sort of right, thought Apple. I can’t control the past and the fact I never could get up the nerve to talk to Zen. I can’t control the future and seeing if Happy goes through with liking Zen. Right now, I’m going to concentrate on my homework. Apple picked up her knapsack and rummaged through her bag. She saw her mother’s book and, rolling her eyes, threw it across her room so it hit the wall. She walked over to pick it up. Then she threw it in the trash.

  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.

  Dear ED,

  I can’t believe what is happening. It’s like my mother always says. Sometimes life is just not fair. I hate to admit it, but I’m really distressed. Happy just called and told me she had been chatting with Zen—yes, MY Zen—for almost two hours! It’s not like I wasn’t around to IM with. I hate myself for saying this, I do, but it just seems everything comes so easily for Happy. I don’t know, maybe it’s like my mother always says to Crazy Aunt Hazel—that when you least expect it, that’s when you meet someone. Maybe the problem was that for years, I was WAITING for something to happen with Zen. Happy wasn’t waiting. And something is definitely starting to happen with her and Zen. Then again, it was just instant messaging. Maybe I’m just overreacting. I want to be happy for my best friend but…

  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.

  Dear ED,

  You can forget about everything I wrote about Zen the other day. I don’t like him anymore. It was all just a silly phase. I have discovered true love now—the love that only a REAL man can inspire. You know, a VERY mature man. I’m in love with Mr. Kelly. That’s right. I’m in serious love with my math teacher. I know this sounds weird, considering how much I hate math, but I’m really starting to enjoy class. Especially since Mr. Kelly is so hot. So you can forget about Plan Z. My new plan is to get Mr. Kelly to fall as deeply in love with me as I am with him. It is possible, you know, ED. He is single. And gorgeous. And he’s not that old. He may be, like, only 35. And he seems to really like me. Every time I put up my hand in class, he chooses me. I swear, I love watching him write out math questions on the blackboard. He has the most gorgeous hands. Hands that I would love to feel all over my body. I will keep you posted, ED. I promise. Oh, I can’t wait for math class! In fact, I may just become a mathematician one day. That’s how into math I am now. Well, that’s how much I’m into Mr. Kelly! I’m done with high school boys. I want a real man, not a silly high school boy.

  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.