Rotten Apple

by Rebecca Eckler

  “What?” Apple asked. The last time Happy asked her to do a “biggie” it was about asking how she could get on Queen of Hearts. “Please don’t ask me again about getting on the show. And you never gave me those jeans!”

  “No, no. I’m over that. But you have to chat up Zen for me. You have to tell him how wonderful I am. You have to get some information out of him,” Happy said, almost desperately. “And I promise to bring you the jeans.”

  “Information? What do you mean?” asked Apple. “I’m not good at that, Happy—you know that. I’m so bad at getting things out of people.”

  “Just mention my name in conversation and see what he says. Just pretend you’re your mother for a minute and start asking him some questions. Please, Apple. Pretty please? Somehow just work me into the conversation. It’ll be really easy,” she said, grabbing Apple’s hands tightly.

  “But why?” Apple asked her friend. “Why do you want me to do this?”

  “So I can know how he feels about me?” Happy responded. “I can’t read him.”

  Apple had never seen Happy in insecure mode before. What was going on with her friend?

  “Why do you care?” Apple said to her. “You’ve never cared before about how people felt about you. You didn’t care about the lifeguard. And it’s why we love you. We love the fact that you couldn’t give a rat’s ass about what people think about you. It’s what makes you you” she said, releasing her hands from Happy’s tight grip.

  “I know. I know. I hate myself for even asking,” Happy said, turning her face away from Apple. “But please? Could you?”

  “I don’t know, Happy.”

  “Oh, come on, Apple. Can you just do this for me?” Happy pleaded.

  How can I not do this for Happy? thought Apple, especially since her friend looked … what? She looked like she very much needed Apple to do this for her. It pained Apple to see her friend looking … insecure? borderline desperate?

  “Okay, fine. I’ll ask. But I’m not making any promises.”

  “Thanks, Apple. You’re the best!” Happy said, throwing her arms around Apple’s neck. “That’s all I’m asking for.”

  After school, Apple headed to the front doors. She saw Zen standing there—and Happy walking off, her blond ponytail bouncing behind her and a happy jaunt in her step. Obviously, her friend had perked up since that morning.

  “You just missed Happy,” Zen told her when she walked up to him. Was it just her imagination, or was Zen beaming? He looked like he was trying to swallow his big smile. It wasn’t working.

  “So, are we meeting North?” Apple asked.

  “Yup. He’s in the parking lot waiting for us. We’d better go. Our chariot awaits,” Zen said, sweeping his arms in front of him, then opening the door for her to exit first.

  “Great!” Apple said. “Let’s go have some fun!”

  “What?” Zen said.

  “Well, I mean volunteering should also be fun,” Apple said.

  Why did the words coming from her mouth always sound so moronic when she tried to talk to Zen? She was positive that he was looking at her like she was an oddball.

  Apple piled in the back seat of the big SUV and stayed quiet while the boys talked about golf scores. Apple couldn’t contribute to this conversation at all. She didn’t even bother trying.

  North’s brother dropped them off and parked in the visitor’s parking lot at the club.

  “I’m going to go pump some iron,” North said, sounding like Hulk Hogan. “Catch you guys later.”

  Apple and Zen walked into the lobby and saw a table was set up for them in a corner.

  “Hey, guys!” said Poppy, who was sitting at the table. “It’s your shift now. All you have to do is take the clothes that people drop off, go through them, fold them, and put them in the marked boxes. And no stealing! It’s hard, because there’s some good stuff people are giving away. Then, when you’re done, take the boxes out to the valet station. Someone is going to come pick them up later. Ta ta,” Poppy said, and left with a wave.

  “I guess all we have to do is sit here, then, and wait?” Apple asked Zen, when they were alone.

  “Yeah, it probably won’t get really busy until dinner time, I imagine,” Zen said.

  Every night the club had a buffet-style dinner, meant for families. The kids would run around on the back lawn, which led to the golf course, while their parents sipped cocktails and mingled with each other.

  “So, what’s up?” Apple asked Zen, pulling up a chair for him. Zen was even shyer than Apple was. Apple knew it had to be her to start the conversation or they’d really sit there in silence.

  “Oh, you know, the usual. Just school and stuff,” Zen answered.

  “Yeah. Don’t you hate being back at school?” Apple asked.

  “Actually, surprisingly, it’s not as boring as I remember,” Zen said. “I’m not having as bad a time as I expected I would coming back.”

  “Really?”

  “Yup.”

  “I mean, when I ran into you on the street the day before break ended, you said you were dreading going back,” Apple said, confused.

  “Yeah, I was. But I’m not now. It’s kind of nice to be back, actually.”

  Apple didn’t know what to say. She certainly didn’t want to ask Zen why he was so happy about being back at school, for fear of the answer.

  They sat beside each other in silence. She swore she could hear the tennis balls bouncing on the tennis courts outside, and the click of the pool cues. She swore she could even hear a golf ball rolling across the course. But this was her do-or-die moment. This was when Plan Z was supposed to be in full-on action. She was finally alone with Zen, which is what she had hoped for all along. She had to talk about something or else the next hour would be painful.

  What else did they have in common? Apple was desperate to make some sort of connection with Zen.

  It came down to Happy. Apple gulped. They clearly had Happy in common, and she had promised her friend she would talk about her. Why not kill two birds with one stone? It was better to talk about Happy than to not talk about anything and sit in this uncomfortable silence. It wasn’t the kind of silence she enjoyed.

  “Isn’t Happy so pretty?” Apple found herself asking.

  She saw Zen perk up. She was torn. At least he seemed to be interested in talking to her now, but why did he have to perk up when the conversation was about her best friend? Once she got him interested, though, she could move on to other things, things that didn’t have to focus around Happy.

  “She’s beautiful! I never knew how beautiful she really was,” Zen said. “She makes me laugh, too.”

  “Yeah, she can be really funny,” agreed Apple.

  “And sweet,” Zen added. “I always thought she was kind of spoiled. But she’s not, really. I mean she is, but she doesn’t act like it, you know?”

  “Of course I know. I’m her best friend!”

  “And she seems like she’d be fun,” he went on. Was he asking a question?

  “Oh, she is,” Apple said. “You’re not the only one who thinks so. She’s a live-for-the-moment kind of girl, you know what I mean?” She knew she was entering uncool territory—because she already knew what she was planning on saying.

  “Not exactly. Maybe. What do you mean?” Zen asked.

  “Well, take the lifeguard for example,” Apple said, leaning in toward Zen. She was close enough to smell him. Happy was right—he did smell good.

  “The lifeguard?” Zen asked, confused.

  “Yeah, the lifeguard she had a fling with over winter break in Mexico. Didn’t she tell you?” Apple asked. “I mean, that’s what I was talking about.”

  Apple felt horrible. She knew she was somehow betraying Happy, but it wasn’t like Happy had ever told her that the lifeguard fling was a secret or anything. And, Apple figured, Happy was the one who had asked her to talk about her, to bring her up in conversation. She was just doing as told. Happy had, after all, practically force
d Apple to talk about her to Zen. How else was she to do it?

  “Um, I don’t think so,” Zen said. “She never mentioned anything about a lifeguard.”

  “Well, she had this wild fling with this super-sexy lifeguard. She didn’t even ask his last name! But that’s Happy for you. Like you said, she’s really into having a good time,” Apple said nonchalantly.

  “I see,” Zen said, more slowly now.

  “Yeah, she likes her flings. Nothing too, too serious. She’s sweet, though, isn’t she?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And she’s really funny, like you said,” Apple continued.

  “Yeah.”

  “And she’s super good-looking, like you said.”

  “Yeah.”

  She could tell Zen’s mind was working overtime on what she had just told him.

  “Just forget what I said about the lifeguard,” she said now. “It was just a fling! She really did it just to piss off her sister. I don’t think it meant anything to her. No, I’m sure it didn’t,” she added, trying to cheer him up.

  Apple knew she needed to change the subject. “I think this is really good you’re helping out like this,” she told Zen. “I just think you have the best heart.”

  “Well, you’re here too,” said Zen, but sullenly.

  The guilt! It was killing her. She was supposed to talk up her friend, not talk her down.

  “You know, I’m really not feeling well all of a sudden,” Zen said. “Maybe I’m coming down with something. Let’s continue this another time. I think I really need to get out of here.”

  “Really? But what about the clothing that people are going to drop off?” Apple asked. She hoped he didn’t hear the whine in her voice, like she did.

  “Oh, don’t worry about it. I’m sure you can handle it on your own,” he said, pushing back his chair loudly and getting up.

  How could Apple save this disastrous turnaround? What was it she had read in her mother’s book? Something about giving out compliments?

  “Well, like I said, I really think you are great for doing this, even if you’re not feeling well and need to go. I totally understand.”

  “Um …”

  “I do,” Apple pressed. “You’re great!”

  “Thanks. Sorry, I guess I’m just not good at getting compliments. It makes me feel uncomfortable. I’m going to just go home and take a nap or something. You sure you don’t mind?”

  “No, it’s fine. It’s fine,” said Apple. “I hope you feel better.”

  “How are you going to get home? Can you get somebody to pick you up?” Zen asked. Apple was devastated that he was leaving and even lying about coming down with something. She knew she was responsible for putting him in a bad mood, and yet he still cared enough to ask her if she’d be okay. He was just so sweet.

  “I’ll just walk. It’s only like a fifteen-minute walk. I’ll be fine.”

  “Okay,” Zen said. “See you tomorrow.”

  After an hour of folding the clothes that club members had finally dropped off, Apple walked home alone. She was lonely and felt awful about what she had slipped to Zen about Happy’s lifeguard Just as she was walking up her front door, her cell phone started to ring.

  “Hey, Apple!”

  It was Happy. She knew she was calling to find out if Apple had gotten any information out of Zen. Happy was all about instant gratification. She wanted answers ASAP. What was she going to tell Happy? That she had just made her out to seem like a party girl? That she was a bad friend?

  “Thank you!” Happy screeched, before Apple could even say hello. “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!”

  “For what?” Apple asked, surprised.

  “Zen! He asked me out to a movie on Friday,” Happy shrieked.

  “He did?” Apple asked, mystified.

  “Yes, whatever you said to him, thank you! I owe you big time!”

  “No, you don’t,” Apple said, feeling baffled. Here she was, feeling so guilty about how she had portrayed Happy, and yet whatever she had said had made him ask her out. “So when did he ask you out? I mean, I’m just getting home now. I thought he was going home, because he said he wasn’t feeling well. I guess he wasn’t too sick to call you.”

  “He asked me out after school today. I wanted to call you earlier, but I had an appointment with Dr. Caffeine and had to race out of school. I just got home. I thought you were going to wait to talk to him while you were do-gooding, but I guess you spoke to him at school today, right?” Happy pressed.

  “Um, yeah,” Apple said. Why hadn’t Zen told her that he had already asked Happy out? And there she had been talking about Happy’s lifeguard!

  “Well, like I said, whatever you said, thank you! It totally worked. And I wasn’t even thinking about getting a date out of this. I just wanted to know where his head was at, you know? But this is so much better!” Happy squealed.

  “Um, no problem. Listen,” Apple said. “I’m just walking in the door. I’ll speak to you later.”

  “Thanks again, Apple. It really means the world to me. I couldn’t ask for a better best friend,” Happy said. “I owe you big … You may even get a pair of shoes along with those jeans!”

  Apple felt sick to her stomach.

  She opened her front door, and, like finding out your favorite show was in repeats, Aunt Hazel was there.

  “I’m warning you, I’m in a rotten mood,” she told her aunt.

  “Rotten apple!” her aunt taunted her. “Rotten apple! Rotten apple!”

  “Hardy-har,” Apple said. “Like I haven’t heard that one before. Why are you in such a good mood?”

  “I’ve decided to go on strike,” Aunt Hazel said. “I feel great about my decision.”

  “What are you talking about? From your job?” Apple asked, sitting down on the couch next to her.

  “No. I’ve decided I’m going on strike from all men. I’m taking a break. No more men for me,” Aunt Hazel said, decidedly.

  “Right. That should last, like, an hour?” Apple said.

  “Why are you in such a crabby mood?” her aunt asked. “I mean, shouldn’t you be walking on cloud nine, with this huge crush of yours?”

  Did her Crazy Aunt Hazel know about Zen? How could she know? Apple hadn’t told anybody. She had never been more secretive.

  “What are you talking about?” Apple asked hesitantly.

  “Oh, nothing. Just a little bird told me that you were in love with an older man, that’s all. And a teacher! You are such a bad girl, Apple. I never knew you had it in you. You’d better be careful or people are going to start calling you Bad Apple. But I’m impressed. So, is he that cute?”

  Take cleansing breaths, like Brooklyn always suggested, Apple thought to herself. Unbelievable! Now her mother was telling her secret, her fake problem, to Crazy Aunt Hazel? Her mother really had no boundaries!

  “You know Apple, he’ll never go for you, no matter how cute you are,” her aunt continued, when Apple didn’t respond. “Do you really think he’d risk his job for a student? Sometimes it’s better to just quit. Oh, I know everyone always tells you that you should never quit anything, except smoking. But in relationships, it’s different. Sometimes—and trust me on this—it’s better to let the one you love go. Why don’t you quit Mr. Kelly and go on strike with me? Because it will never happen anyway.”

  “Leave me alone!” Apple screamed at her aunt, getting up from the couch. “Just leave me the hell alone.”

  Apple had no idea where that had come from. It had leapt out of her mouth before she could stop it. Apple was not usually a yeller.

  “God, you need to take it easy. I’m going,” her aunt huffed. “You know, maybe your mother is right. Maybe you should open up more—”

  Apple didn’t wait to hear the rest, and turned and ran upstairs.

  EVERYTHING and EVERYONE was getting to her.

  pple stormed upstairs from the back hallway to her mother’s home office, furious that Aunt Hazel knew about her fake diary ent
ry and that her mother had had the nerve to discuss it with her—Aunt Hazel! Of all people!

  My mother thinks she can just read my private diary entries on my computer, thought Apple, with revulsion. Well, if it’s all right for her to do it to me, then it must be all right for me to do it to her.

  Apple clicked her mother’s computer on, and entered the password to log in. Her mother was so unoriginal. Her password, Apple knew, was P-A-S-S-W-O-R-D. Apple had been around years ago when Guy had first explained to her mother about the computer and she knew her technophobic mother would never change it. Ever.

  Up on the screen popped up dozens upon dozens of e-mails, with the subject line “Help Please!”—all meant for the eyes of Dr. Bee Bee Berg.

  Was she really going to do this? Apple knew it was so immoral. Yet, at the same time, she felt like she needed to be reassured that others out there in the world were as miserable as she was. Of course, she also wanted to get back at her mother for reading her personal diary.

  Randomly, Apple clicked and opened one of the e-mails.

  Dear Queen of Hearts,

  Is it so wrong to have sex with the ex? You’re the only one who can understand me, and I want more than anything to be on your show. But let me tell you my problem. I broke up with my ex after a three-year relationship. We hadn’t had any contact in two months, when we ran into each other at a party and I ended up going home with him. All the old feelings came rushing back. It’s been over a week and I haven’t heard from him. But I haven’t called him either. I’m not saying I want to get back together. I know we’re over. But how could it feel so right at the time, and not mean anything to him? Please give me your advice! I need your advice!

  Apple felt a huge knot in her stomach. Reading another person’s painful admission about her disappointments didn’t exactly make her feel better about her own problems. It just made her feel worse—and gloomier than ever.

  Once, years ago, Apple had come home to find a folder marked “Queen of Heart Shows” on the kitchen table, where Guy had left it. Apple had mindlessly picked it up, more because it was there than out of curiosity about what was in it. The folder had been full of letters sent by snail mail from viewers, writing to her mother, telling her their sordid love tales and explaining why they needed to go on her show.