Rotten Apple Read online

  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.

  “I’m sorry, but you have to admit, it’s kind of funny,” she finally said. “Have you told my mother?�
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  “Yes. Of course,” Aunt Hazel said.

  “And what did the great Dr. Bee Bee Berg say to you?”

  “Oh, you know your mother. Same old. Same old. She advised me that men don’t find women who sneak around in their closets very cute at all. She advised me that it was psychotic. She advised me that I have ‘trust issues,’” her aunt said, mocking her sister. “You know what your mother’s like.”

  “You think?” Apple asked, and started to laugh again. “I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but I think Mom has a point.”

  “Okay, enough. I know I’m pathetic. I just came here to be alone in my patheticness. But I’m going now. Your dad called. He’s staying late at the office but wants you to call him. There’s dinner in the kitchen.”

  “What? There is?” Apple asked. She was used to making herself a bowl of cereal for dinner.

  “Don’t get too excited. It’s just a pizza that I ordered and ate half of. Double cheese. Okay, I’m out of here. Enjoy your night.”

  Apple walked into the kitchen, enjoying the peace and quiet that was so rare around the Berg household. Apple didn’t often have the entire house to herself, but she knew it probably wouldn’t last long.

  She called her father and had a brief, friendly chat. He sounded a bit sad on the phone, and mentioned he was going to play nine holes, which broke Apple’s heart. It was as if he wanted to spend as much time away from the house as he possibly could. He usually played golf only on the weekends.

  She sat on the couch and turned on the television, ready to plop in her Minors in Malibu DVD. The characters on Minors in Malibu got together all the time. It gave her hope, even though she knew it was just a television show.

  Instead she heard a key in the front door, and jumped to attention, wondering who it could be. Maybe it was Aunt Hazel coming back to moan some more about Ken, or Kyle, or whatever his name was. Or maybe she forgot something? Maybe it was Guy, coming over to attend to some of her mother’s e-mail. Maybe her father had decided not to golf today after all.

  “Apple,” her mother said, walking through the doors. “I’m glad you’re here.”

  “Don’t you have some event to be at?” Apple asked. “What are you doing home so early? It’s only seven.”

  “Not tonight. Well, I did, but I canceled at the last minute. And you know, I think Alice Cooper was going to be there. Your father would have died.”

  Great, Apple thought, she probably felt she had to spend some quality time with her daughter. It was so not necessary, Apple thought.

  “I want to talk to you about something very sensitive,” her mother began, sitting down on the couch next to Apple, grabbing the remote from her hand, and clicking off the television.

  “Hey!” Apple said. “I was watching that!”

  “I’m sorry, but this is important,” her mother said sternly.

  “Mom! This isn’t going to be a sex talk, is it? I mean, we already had that conversation when I was eleven, and then when I was twelve, then again when I was thirteen.”

  “No, it’s not a sex talk. Well, not exactly,” her mother said.

  “What is it now, Mom? I really should get up and do some homework, so you’re going to have to make this quick,” Apple pressed.

  “Apple, high school is a confusing time,” her mother began. “Being fifteen is a confusing time. I get that.”

  “And your point is?” Apple asked, trying to get the conversation moving faster. The sooner it really started, the sooner it would end.

  “My point is that while you may think you’re an adult, you are not. You are still a little girl—my little girl,” she added.

  “And your point is?” Apple asked again. What was her mother rambling on about now?

  “Apple, don’t be sarcastic. It’s important and healthy to get to know people your own age. It’s important to hang around guys your own age,” her mother said, wringing her hands.

  “Mom, you’re not trying to tell me to get a boyfriend again, are you?” Apple asked. “I told you there’s no one I’m interested in.”

  “No, but I’m telling you that you may learn something from hanging around boys your own age. That you will want to have gone through all the things other fifteen-year-old girls go through with fifteen-year-old boys. I just don’t want you to ever have to regret missing out on that. You should enjoy your youth now, with other … youthful people.”

  Apple, at that instant, suddenly understood what her mother was trying to get at. It was patently clear that her mother had read her electronic diary entry—her fake diary entry—about her crush—her fake crush—on Mr. Kelly, her math teacher, just as Apple had suspected she would.

  “Okay, and …,” Apple said, playing along, trying not to smile. She rolled her eyes for effect. Let’s just see, she thought, if she’s going to admit what she’s done, that she rudely went and read my private diary entry. She should totally apologize, Apple thought.

  “Well, Apple, I’m just worried that you’re missing out on a critical and pivotal stage in your life. Like I said, I don’t want you to have any regrets, or to do anything stupid,” Dr. Berg told her daughter.

  “Stupid? Stupid like what?” Apple pressed her mother, who was starting to look uncomfortable. It was rare indeed for Dr. Bee Bee Berg to look uncomfortable while interrogating someone. She was a pro, after all.

  Apple knew her mother was uncomfortable because she knew she had done something wrong, namely sneak into Apple’s private documents.

  “Stupid like … stupid like not giving boys your age a chance,” her mother said.

  “Mom, I don’t know what you’re getting at. But I really do have to get to my homework. This conversation is over.” Apple got up and headed up the stairs. Wow, she thought. She had always wanted to say, “This conversation is over.”

  “Apple, wait!” her mother demanded, standing up. She had a concerned look on her face.

  “No, we’re done talking. I can’t believe you!” Apple snapped at her mother.

  “I was just trying to help,” her mother said.

  “I don’t need your help!” Apple stormed into her room and slammed the door. As she threw herself onto the bed, she heard, faintly, her mother still nattering at her. Apple was right, and she couldn’t help but feel slightly triumphant. It was just as she had expected, that her mother would want to talk about her fake diary entry. But she was also angry. How dare her mother sneak a peak at her diary and then interrogate her as if she was the one who had done something wrong!

  “Trust me on this,” she heard her mother yell through the door. “I’m your mother!”

  Apple got under her covers. Her suspicions about her mother had proved right. To make matters even worse, her mother was being pushy, demanding that she date boys her own age. Not only was her mother a sneak, but she was overbearing too. Apple was more desperate than ever to keep every thought to herself from now on. No matter what.

  fter her Aunt Hazel dropped her off at school the next morning, Apple headed to the spiral staircase. Brooklyn, Happy, and Zen were already sitting there.

  “Hey, Apple!” Happy said immediately. “You didn’t tell me you volunteered to do the clothing drive at the club! You should have told me—we could have done it together!”

  “Oh, well, it was a spur-of-the-moment thing,” Apple told her friend, hoping that her face was not turning red. She was not a good liar. “Brooklyn and I were just walking by the table yesterday and I thought, ‘Why not?’ And plus I know how busy you are with acting classes. I didn’t think you’d have the time.”

  “I got an e-mail last night telling me we’ll be watching the table together,” Zen said to Apple.

  “Me too! How lucky is it that we got paired up together?” Apple asked Zen. “I mean, it’s lucky that we at least know each other. It would suck to be stuck next to someone you didn’t know, if you know what I mean,” she continued clumsily.

  “That’s true,” Zen agreed.

  “Well, it s
ounds to me like it could be fun,” Happy said, pouting. “I wish I was volunteering too.”

  “It’s probably not too late to sign up,” Zen told her. “You could just come along with Apple and me today. I’m sure no one would mind. Or you could just hang out and we could meet you after at the burger shack or something.”

  Zen seemed to perk up at the idea, and Happy was beaming at Zen’s eagerness to include her.

  Great, thought Apple. That’s just great. She felt a pang of guilt. Happy was her best friend. She should want to hang out with Happy. Happy and Apple had spent many afternoons lying by the pool at the club, for years, since they were kids.

  “Oh, but Apple’s right,” said Happy. “I just can’t. I really don’t have the time.” Immediately Apple felt relieved. Then she felt guilty for feeling relieved. Why did she always end up feeling guilty over something?

  “Even today I have somewhere to be,” Happy added, sounding disappointed. “I can’t get out of it.” Apple knew that Happy’s appointment was a session with Dr. Caffeine.

  “Well,” said Zen, “I guess I’ll meet you by the front doors after school, Apple, and we’ll take it from there. I think North said he was heading over to the club with his brother, so we can catch a ride with them, if that’s cool with you.”

  “That’s cool,” Apple said, trying to be nonchalant.

  “I’ve got to head to class now,” he said, though he didn’t really look like he wanted to leave.

  “Oh, I’ll come with you,” said Brooklyn. “We have science now, right?”

  Apple was left alone with Happy, but she couldn’t read the expression on her friend’s face. It was one Apple hadn’t ever seen before. Was Happy that upset that she had to go see her shrink? Or was she really that disappointed that she hadn’t signed up to volunteer …

  “Apple,” began Happy, “you have to do me a biggie.”