Apple's Angst (5 page)

Apple cringed. Oh, how often her mother said, “You can tell me anything.” The sentence made Apple's spine tingle.

Should she tell her mother how often she still thought about Zen? Apple could simply be looking out the window or sitting in class and Zen would suddenly pop into her mind. She usually didn't even know it was happening until someone interrupted her or touched her, like her mother just had.

Even when she should be focused on something important, such as this meeting at
Angst
magazine, Zen popped into her head. She wondered what he was doing now. She wondered if he thought about her at all. She wondered if he would like her in this red dress and Happy's boots. It was ridiculous, thought Apple. She shook her head, as if by doing so she could shake Zen out of her brain. What she should be wondering was if Lyon was thinking about her. There was no way she was going to admit this to her mother. Her mother would probably just say, “It's okay to think about someone else, but remember to be grateful for those you do have in your life who love you.”

Suddenly, Apple had an awful thought: Did her mother
know
that Apple was thinking about Zen? Could she sense it? Oh, God. It was bad enough that people at school still gossiped that she was into Zen.

“I guess I am a little nervous,” Apple said, hoping her mother had no idea.

“Well, this
is
big. Do you know how many other fifteen-year-olds would absolutely die to be in the position you're in now? To work at the highest-distribution teen magazine in the country? I never had that chance when I was fifteen. Then again, we didn't have tabloid magazines back then. No one was that interested. Or maybe they were. But with the Internet now, you can't do anything without people knowing about your life,” her mother said. “Do you know that Guy did a Web search for my name the other day? It's amazing what is out there about me. I told him I didn't want to hear, because it turns out not everyone is a fan of the show. People are so critical. Making fun of my outfits, my hair! Guy just kept saying, ‘The only thing worse than being talked about is
not
being talked about.' So I guess that's why everyone is so fascinated with the celebrities in
Angst
magazine. It seems people will do anything to get a mention in it. It's a very important publication, especially for up-and-coming young stars, according to Guy. The magazine can apparently make or break a career.”

“Okay, I
already
told you I was nervous. Now you're just making me
more
nervous!” Apple said.

“That's good. I'd be so much more worried if you weren't nervous. I still get nervous before every
Queen of Hearts
show, and how long have I been doing it? No, don't tell me. I don't want to be reminded. It's when you're not nervous that you have to worry, because if you're not nervous, it means you don't care,” her mother said, holding up her hand.

Apple didn't want to break her mother's heart and tell her that she wasn't sure she
did
care. Her mother would be mortified. In fact, Apple couldn't remember her mother ever being so proud of her as she was right now. She didn't want to disappoint her.

“Happy said I have to be a ‘better version' of myself today. What if they
don't
love me, even the ‘better version' of me?” Apple pressed, biting a nail.

“Don't bite your nails. They
will
love you!” her mother said confidently. “You have to believe in yourself.”

“God, you sound like Brooklyn,” Apple muttered.

Apple wondered how everyone around her seemed so sure of themselves and their lives, and for that matter, so sure of Apple's. How could it only be Apple who was so unsure of everything? Her big feet, which she could feel swelling in Happy's gorgeous boots. Her hair. The fact she still thought about Zen. Her ambivalence about this so-called greatest job opportunity on the entire planet. What did that mean? Was it normal?

The only thing Apple was sure of was Lyon. She thought back to the day they met, at the school Valentine's Day dance. Like the
Angst
magazine gig, Lyon was another unexpected surprise of appearing on her mother's talk show that day. He had seen a short clip of her appearance that someone had posted on YouTube, and when he told her this at the dance, Apple was mortified. But Lyon quickly explained that he thought she had been very brave to do what she did, and that not enough people say they're sorry for making mistakes. For her to have admitted she made a mistake of that kind and apologize in such a public way? Well, unlike most, Lyon
thought it was extremely admirable. He thought her teary appearance was, in his words, “awesome.”

Then again, Lyon thought everything Apple did was “awesome,” even when he watched her do homework. He was a dream, thought Apple.

She smacked her forehead. She had forgotten to call him back. Lyon had called to check in just as Happy and Brooklyn had arrived, and Apple had rushed off the phone promising she'd call him right back. That was hours ago.

“I need to call Lyon back. Do I have enough time now?” Apple asked her mother.

“We'll be there in four minutes and fifteen seconds. You had better be fast,” she answered, eyeing the clock on the dashboard. “And stop biting your nails!”

Apple reached down into her bag and found her BlackBerry. She pressed the digits of Lyon's number, turning away from her mother to look out the window. She didn't feel comfortable talking to Lyon with her mother so close. Still, Apple was
trying
to be more open with her mother about the goings-on in her life, and what could be more open than talking to your new boyfriend in front of your mother?

“Hello,” Apple heard Lyon answer sleepily, as if she had woken him from a nap.

“Hey, it's me,” Apple said. She could feel the tenseness in her voice, more, she thought, because her mother was so near (and for sure listening in—how could she not be?) than because of the meeting.

“Hey, baby. Where you've been? You were supposed to call me back ages ago. I've missed you,” he said, in
his sexy, laid-back voice. Apple felt her heart melt a little with a mixture of love and guilt for not calling him back sooner. She still wasn't used to being—what was it?—missed? adored? thought about? complimented? all of the above?

“I know. I know. I'm so sorry. It was pure mayhem trying to get ready. Then Guy showed up. This is the first chance I've had! I'm in the car with my mom now. But I promise to call you as soon as it's done. I just wanted to let you know that I didn't forget about calling you back,” Apple said, even though she wasn't being entirely truthful.

“You'd better not forget about me. Does that mean I can't say anything naughty to you?” he asked with a soft laugh.

Apple giggled and blushed. “I think that would be wise.”

She glanced toward her mother, who had raised her eyebrows and was looking at her curiously. Apple usually didn't giggle. She knew her mother was dying to know what Lyon was saying. She had that same intrigued look that was plastered on her face while she waited for her guests to answer questions on the
Queen of Hearts
.

“Well, I'll just think naughty thoughts, then,” Lyon said charmingly.

“That's a good idea. I better go,” Apple sighed. “We're almost there.”

“Well, good luck. They'll love you. How could they not? They'd be idiots not to see how great you are,” Lyon said confidently.

Why was Lyon so sure of her ability to make a good impression? She found herself containing annoyance with his words. Out of everyone, Lyon was the last person she should be annoyed with. He was just being supportive.

“Thanks, Lyon. I wish
you
were the editor! I promise to call you later,” Apple said tensely, hoping she sounded nervous, not bitchy.

“I've heard that before,” Lyon joked.

“I mean it,” Apple said. “Call you soon.”

She hung up and imagined Lyon in his bed. Lyon, with his perfect bed-head hair, his cool rock-band T-shirts, his Converse shoes. He was a grade ahead of Apple, a year older, and did the sweetest things for her. Yesterday he had dropped off a little teddy bear with a note attached saying, “Good luck! I know you'll kick ass.”

Lyon always did things like that. He was cute and thoughtful—sometimes, Apple thought, overly so. But then she thought, What is “overly so”? Would she like it better if he did none of those things, if he never called? Apple didn't think that was a better option at all. She knew, from her Zen Crush, that being ignored by someone you were into wasn't a good way of living. She knew from Brooklyn, who had an on-again, off-again, on-again
something
with their classmate Hopper, that she was lucky Lyon treated her so well. Hopper was gorgeous, but supremely immature. Apple could see why Brooklyn was physically attracted to him—he was stunning. And he could be funny, if you were into jokes about sex and animals. But he didn't treat Brooklyn well. Even Happy occasionally complained
that Zen wasn't that romantic, and that she wished he could be more like Lyon.

“Your boyfriend is perfect,” Happy had told her more than once.

No, your boyfriend is perfect, Apple would always immediately think. Of course she would never say that aloud to Happy, for fear she would get the wrong impression.

“Is someone in love?” her mother asked Apple in a singsong. Apple breathed in and out deeply. While things with her mother had certainly improved, Apple still wasn't willing to shell out
all
the details of her love life. They just didn't have that kind of relationship.

Apple carefully considered what to say. She wanted to at least try to treat her mother more like a friend, like Happy did.

“Well, let's just say I'm in deep like,” Apple said finally, blushing. She hoped that would satiate her mother's need to know.

“I'm happy for you, Apple,” her mother said. “Your life is all coming together. You've made up with Happy, you're getting a fabulous new job, and you have a nice boy in your life who seems to be a gentleman and who seems to really adore you.”

“God, now you're starting to sound like Aunt Hazel,” Apple replied. “She says, ‘When it rains, it pours.'”

“Well, she has a point. Just look at her! She and Jim seem very happy. This is the longest relationship your aunt has had in … well, ever!”

“God, Mom, please don't call him Jim. He's Mr. Kelly to me. And he'll always be Mr. Kelly. Honestly, I just
want to gag whenever I think of my
math teacher
with Aunt Hazel. Gross!”

While Apple was meeting Lyon at the Valentine's Day dance, Crazy Aunt Hazel, who had driven her there, and whose relationships had previously always been disastrous, had met Apple's math teacher, who was chaperoning.

Crazy Aunt Hazel had danced that night with Mr. Kelly, and they'd been in a relationship ever since. On the one hand, it was good that they had hooked up that night, because everyone at her school started gossiping about her aunt and Mr. Kelly instead of about Apple's embarrassing appearance on her mother's show and her fight with Happy over Zen.

Apple knew her aunt and her teacher were both smitten. Hazel hadn't cried or thrown any temper tantrums
at all
since she met Mr. Kelly. And her aunt was
known
for her temper tantrums. She was famous in the Berg household for slamming doors and stealing their ice cream, after especially dates gone wrong, which had been a regular occurrence for years and years. And Mr. Kelly definitely seemed to be in a better mood since he met her aunt. There had been hardly
any
pop quizzes.

Apple wanted her aunt to be happy—she was always
so
pathetic when it came to men—but the thought of her aunt and her math teacher
together?
Yuck.

God, thought Apple, who would have ever thought her MATH teacher would end up with Crazy Aunt Hazel, who had been raised more like Apple's sister than her aunt. She was definitely immature for her age,
always wanting to borrow Apple's clothes, bringing over her laundry for their housekeeper to do, eating food from their fridge, and wanting to hang out with Apple.

Apple had to admit that she had seen a lot less of Aunt Hazel since she had started dating Mr. Kelly, and sh sort of missed her and hearing about all her crazy hijinks and dating disasters.

“Let's be happy for Hazel,” Dr. Berg said to Apple. “She's happy and it's our job to be supportive. We're her family.”

“‘For better or worse,' as Dad likes to say,” responded Apple with a smirk. “And I
am
supportive. I just don't want to think about her and my math teacher, okay? I have to see him every day, remember? It's embarrassing.”

Apple and her mother drove for the next few minutes in silence.

“We have arrived,” her mother announced, pulling into a parking space in front of a large building.

Apple became suddenly aware that she couldn't feel her toes at all. And now she was also having a hard time swallowing because her mouth was so dry. She was nervous, no doubt about it.

Her mother stopped the car, took the key out of the ignition, and looked at Apple with a hopeful glance.

“Do you want me to come in or wait here?” Dr. Bee Bee Berg asked.

Apple was surprised. Her mother usually wouldn't have even bothered asking. Apple had assumed her mother would just walk in with her, not caring what Apple wanted. She was pleased, and impressed, that her mother was offering her a choice.

“I think I should do this on my own,” Apple said, trying to sound as polite as possible. “No offense, but I think it would look really
unprofessional
to bring my
mother
in.”

Apple thought she had been nice allowing her to drive her to the meeting. Lyon had wanted to take her, but she knew it would mean a lot more to her mother.