It was as if another person had taken over her body as she walked zombie-like upstairs to her mother’s office.
She logged on, slowly typing out the letters P-A-S-S-W-O-R-D.
She scrolled down. The inbox seemed bottomless. Every day, it seemed, there were more and more e-mails from the lovelorn. No wonder her mother and Guy were always so busy. Heartbreak never took a vacation.
Apple scanned the From column, her heart pounding, and saw that the e-mail from her—from Bigmistakegirl—had been opened. I knew it, thought Apple. I just knew it—my mother read it already and maybe she even started to respond.
Apple was freaking out. Guy and her mother must know that she was Bigmistakegirl. They weren’t stupid.
She clicked on Draft and saw two paragraphs that someone—her mother, or Guy—had written in response. Her eyes scanned quickly over the words, trying to make sense of them. But Apple couldn’t focus. She had to think. She inhaled deeply.
Suddenly she heard heels clicking across the floor downstairs. Shit, thought Apple. My mother is home!
“Apple!” she heard her name being called. “Apple? Are you home? You left your jacket lying on the floor in the hallway, and all the lights are on down here.”
There couldn’t possibly be a worse time for her mother to show up. She hadn’t finished reading the response to her e-mail! She needed to know what her mother’s advice was.
What should I do? thought Apple frantically, jumping up from the chair, looking desperately at the screen. What should I do? She couldn’t read while hearing her mother’s heels clicking closer and closer.
She heard her say, “Apple? Are you here?”
I know! I’ll just forward my mother’s response to my account, thought Apple. That way I can read it later from the privacy of my own room. “Apple?” her mother called out again. “What are you doing up here?”
“Um, yeah!” Apple called back. “I’m up here!”
Her mother climbed the stairs and entered the office.
That was too close, thought Apple. She didn’t turn around to face her mother.
“I was just, um, using your computer because mine has a virus and kept shutting down,” Apple stuttered at the screen. Her face felt like fire. She felt faint.
“Well, hurry up then. I need to get on it. Do you think you need another computer? We can go out this weekend and buy one for you,” her mother said, sitting down on a nearby chair and kicking off her shoes. She began massaging her feet.
“Thanks, that’s okay. I’m sure it will work out. I’ll just be a minute,” Apple said.
She clicked on to the Sent page to make sure she had forwarded the e-mail to her account. But something seemed wrong. Apple looked more closely at her mother’s response, which she thought she had forwarded. Why in the To line did it show Happy’s name and e-mail address? Oh. No. No. No. No. No. NO!
“Oh my God,” screamed Apple.
“What? What is it?” her mother asked, jumping off her chair and racing over. “What happened? What’s wrong?”
Her mother looked over Apple’s shoulder at the screen.
“What are you doing reading the letters to the Queen of Hearts?” she asked, flabbergasted.
“I was just … I was just …” Apple couldn’t form a complete sentence. Her mind was on what else she had just done. How had she accidentally forwarded her letter and her mother’s response to Happy? She knew it had been because she was so flustered to hear her mother come in, along with the fact that she had been thinking about Happy. She must have typed in Happy’s name instead of her own.
Then her mother started yelling at her, like she had never heard her mother scream before.
“Apple! Are you reading my mail? Apple, I asked you a question,” Dr. Berg demanded. “That looks like one of my responses! Answer me right now, young lady! I’ve told you before that you have to respect readers’ privacy.”
Apple couldn’t take the pressure anymore. She couldn’t take one more thing going wrong in her life.
“Yes, Mother! I was. You caught me. I was looking at your private e-mails, and I’ve been doing it for weeks,” she screamed, getting out of the chair and slamming her hand on the table. It actually felt good to let it out. At least for a split second it did.
“You know you’re not supposed to do that! And just how did you get in, anyway?” her mother yelled.
“Because your password is password! Everyone in this house knows that!” Apple yelled back.
“Wait. You’re the Apple who sent me that question! My God, I thought there was another Apple out there. I was even going to tell you about it. It was you? YOU?” her mother gasped, slapping her hand on her forehead. “It was YOU! I cannot believe this,” her mother said, sounding bowled over.
“Yes, fine! It was me! Me!” Apple said, holding up her hands as if to say, “I’ve been caught!”
Dr. Berg grabbed her daughter by both shoulders. “Apple, you’re grounded!” It was the first time Apple’s mother had ever used that sentence. “You are grounded. I’m mortified, just mortified by what you have done to your friend. And, as a professional, I’m also mortified that you would take advantage this way. Not to mention that I’m also mortified, as your mother, that I raised a daughter who would think any of this was okay.”
“I don’t care! My life is over anyway,” Apple screamed, escaping from her mother’s hands.
Oh, God, Happy would see not only her mother’s response, but also every word Apple had written to her mother—everything she had done. And her stupid, stupid name. Yes, Apple’s life was definitely over. O-V-E-R.
She stormed away from her mother, who was now sitting on a chair, resting her hands on her head and her elbows on her knees, as if she was suffering from a very bad migraine. Apple took the stairs down two by two to her bedroom, and slammed the door.
She searched frantically for her phone. She had no idea if her mother was about to come down and take away all her electronic gadgets. She wasn’t sure exactly what her mother meant by her being grounded, since it had never happened before. She couldn’t find the phone anywhere. God, she really was turning into her crazy, totally disorganized aunt Hazel, who lost her home phone—in her home—for days sometimes. Apple finally found her cell phone in her bag.
She pressed down hard on the number 1 key, the speed dial to Happy.
For as long as Apple could remember, Happy had been number 1 on her speed dial. Pick up, Happy, pick up, Apple willed in her head.
“Hello, Apple,” she heard Happy say, after it rang twice. Apple could tell, by Happy’s tone, that all was not cool. Apple took a deep breath.
“Hi, Happy. Listen. There’s something I need to talk to you about,” Apple said. She felt faint, and her heart was pounding a million beats per second. It was the exact same feeling she used to have when old Zen passed her in the hallways. But this was worse—way worse. She felt desperate. What was it her mother always said? Something about the truth being the best way to get out of sticky situations?
“And what would that be?” Happy asked in a snarky tone. Of course, Apple’s last hope of explaining before Happy saw the e-mail had collapsed. Happy had been carrying around her BlackBerry like it was glued to her ever since she and Zen had started e-mailing each other. All Happy’s e-mails were forwarded to her BlackBerry. She had probably got the e-mail one second after Apple had sent it by mistake.
“Okay,” Apple said, swallowing. “Well, an e-mail was sent to you that was not supposed to be sent to you.”
“Really?” Happy said the way she would to a three-year-old. “Do explain.”
Apple suddenly felt exhausted, as if she hadn’t slept in months. She was tired of playing games. She was tired of lying. With one hand, she wiped away tears that had formed like big raindrops. “I know you read it,” she said. “I can tell by the sound of your voice.”
“You’re right, Apple. I did read it,” Happy answered.
Apple felt miserable. She needed to make thing
s right again with her best friend, at any cost. Though Apple dreaded confrontation, she knew she couldn’t avoid it now.
“Can I explain, please?” Apple pleaded. “Please, just let me explain.”
“You can try,” Happy said, sounding bored. Apple could imagine her sitting there filing her nails.
But she felt a surge of hope. If Happy would at least let her explain what had happened, then maybe she would understand and forgive her. Maybe she’d understand that, like Dr. Bee Bee Berg always said in her show, one should never underestimate what heartbreak can do to a woman. And Apple was going to tell the truth, finally. That should count for something.
“Well,” she began, “I had feelings for Zen. Actually, I’ve had a huge crush on him for, like, two years. I never told you. I never told anyone. It’s like you guys always call me—I’m the Sponge. And I didn’t want to jinx it. Crazy Aunt Hazel always talks so optimistically about her men the second she meets one, and it always ends in disaster. I didn’t want that to happen. And I didn’t want you to think that I was pathetic for liking him for so long and not telling you about it. And what if he never liked me? I don’t want to end up like Aunt Hazel, hurt all the time. But then you started liking him, and I was torn. I know what I did was awful. I know I should have told you right at the beginning. I know I shouldn’t have tried to sabotage your relationship. I didn’t want to—I just couldn’t help it. One thing led to another and it got completely out of hand. I never meant to hurt you, Happy. I would never do that. You’re my best friend. You know that,” Apple said, choking out her last words with tears.
There was a pause.
“If you liked Zen so much, why would you want to hurt him?” Happy asked. “That’s what I really would like to know.”
“I didn’t want to hurt Zen. I didn’t want to hurt him at all,” Apple professed.
“Well, you did,” Happy said.
“No, I didn’t. I know he still likes you. That hasn’t changed. That never changed.”
“I know he does,” Happy said. “Trust me, I know he still likes me.”
“See?” Apple said, getting excited. Maybe it would all work out. Maybe Happy wasn’t that mad, after all. Now that she knew that Zen still liked her, maybe everything would be fine. Maybe Happy wasn’t that pissed off. She still had the man—this was just a little bump in the road of their friendship. All friendships had bumps in the road, didn’t they?
“He’s pissed too,” Happy said.
“Oh, I know he’s pissed because he’s not going to the Valentine Ball with you. But I’m sure he’ll still show up and you and him can still spend the dance together. I’m sure Hopper won’t mind. He’ll understand,” Apple said, her mouth becoming drier and drier.
“No, he’s not pissed at that. Well, he is pissed at that, but he’s also pissed at what you did,” Happy said.
Apple was puzzled. “But he doesn’t have to find out,” she said, desperately trying to convince Happy. “Honestly, this is just a huge misunderstanding. None of this should have ever have happened. Zen still likes you. You still like Zen. Isn’t that the important thing? Isn’t that all that matters at the end of the day?”
“He’s already found out,” Happy said. “I called him and told him about the e-mail you, ahem, accidentally sent to me. In fact, I forwarded it to him just two seconds before you called.”
The room was spinning. Apple felt like she was locked in an elevator that was falling down fast. Not only did Happy know everything she had done, but Zen did too. Zen. Zen. Zen.
“Anyway,” Happy continued, snob-like—a tone Apple had rarely, if ever, heard from Happy. “He also told me that you asked him to the Valentine Ball. That’s nice, Apple. Really nice—and after you told me that I should go with Hopper. You just wanted me to go with Hopper so you could swoop in and ask Zen.”
“No! That’s not right at all! I only asked him so he would go to the dance because he was so upset that you were going with Hopper,” Apple tried to explain. “I thought once I got him there, he’d be cheered up just to see you!”
“Seriously, Apple. How can I trust anything you say now?” Happy asked.
“You can, Happy. You can,” Apple cried. “This was the first time I’ve ever lied to you. Ever!”
“Oh, and Apple? How would your mother feel if she found out what you did?”
“Well, actually, she did find out,” Apple groaned. “I’m grounded.”
“Hah! She wasn’t pleased to find out her daughter was going around pretending to be her, breaking up relationships, and screwing her so-called best friend? I wonder why not?”
Apple had no idea how to respond. How could she explain to her best friend that she, Apple, was still trustworthy? Before she could answer, Happy started to speak again.
“Is there anything else you’d like to get off your chest while you have the chance? Any more deep secrets? Is your name even Apple?”
Apple swallowed and tried to ignore her friend’s sarcastic tone. “Just that I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry,” Apple said. “I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me. It will never happen again. I promise.”
“You know what, Apple?” Happy asked.
“What?” Apple said.
“I know it won’t happen again. I believe you when you say that,” Happy said.
“You do?” Apple asked quietly, with hope.
“Yes, I do. But I can’t forgive you. We can’t be friends anymore. I could never forget what you’ve done to me,” said Happy. “This friendship is so over. It’s so very over.”
Apple heard the click at the other end of the line.
She realized, minutes later, that she was still holding the phone.
How was it possible, with one click of the phone, that their whole history—years of friendship—was over? That was it? A decade of talking almost every day, done just like that?
Apple wasn’t ready to let that go. Not without a fight. She called Happy back, but got her voice mail.
Apple didn’t leave a message. Not the first time she got Happy’s voice mail, and not the ninth time. She had no idea what to say anyway, even if she could get through to Happy herself. She sat down on her bed, her phone still glued to her hand.
There was a knock at her bedroom door.
“Apple, it’s me. I’m coming in,” she heard her mother say.
Great, thought Apple.
“I’ve decided we need to talk about this.” Dr. Bee Bee Berg sat down on Apple’s desk chair and crossed her legs. “I just reread what you sent to me. I just don’t get it, Apple,” her mother said. She got up and sat on the bed next to her daughter.
“What don’t you get?” Apple asked her mother, looking at the floor. Did anyone still love her? she wondered. “I mean, you’re the expert, aren’t you? You’re the expert about all things love and relationships.”
“First off,” her mother said, “I don’t understand why you would do that to your friend. I don’t understand why you would try to ruin your friend’s relationship. And I really don’t understand why you would sneak into my private e-mails.”
“You don’t get it? You don’t get it?” Apple said, sitting up to attention and turning to look her mother in the eye. “You, of all people, do not get why I would sneak into your private e-mail.”
“No, I don’t ‘get’ it. Apple, you of all people should know that trying to ruin a blossoming relationship leads to no good. If two people are meant to be together, they will end up together. How could you not know this? You are around when Guy and I speak. You’ve grown up with my advice around you. You should know, more than anyone else, that all is not fair in love and war, and that sometimes you just have to accept that.”
Apple grabbed her hair as if she were going to rip it out. “You think you are so good at fixing other people’s problems, but you can’t even fix your own. You’re always willing to shell out relationship advice to other people, but you can’t follow it yourself. Why should I listen to you when your own re
lationship sucks?” Apple laughed. “I may not have a relationship, but at least I’m not in a bad one.”
“Apple!” her mother exclaimed, standing up. Apple had never seen Dr. Bee Bee Berg look so shocked, not even the time a guest on her show admitted to cheating on her husband for twenty years straight.
“Well, it’s true, Mom. You want to get into it and have a serious discussion? Fine. Let’s do it. Why is Dad sleeping in the spare bedroom? Why has he been sleeping there for weeks? Did you really think I hadn’t noticed? If your own marriage is so perfect, then why don’t you spend any time with Dad? Are you that willing to give him up for the sake of your career? Why do youspend ninety-nine percent of your time with Guy?” Apple was crying now, but she couldn’t stop. “How can you not see how upset you make Dad? How can you not see that he’s going to leave you if you don’t spend some time with him? How can you not see that he hates coming home? That he hates coming home to an empty house? How can you not see what is happening right here in your own home?”
Dr. Bee Bee Berg didn’t say anything. She just sat back down, blinking her eyes rapidly and pursing her lips.
But Apple wasn’t done.
“And you talk so much about the importance of people’s privacy, but you are such a hypocrite,” she continued.
“What are you talking about now?” her mother asked almost inaudibly.
“I’m talking about you sneaking into my computer and reading my PRIVATE diary entries. Who gave you the right to come into my room and read my diary? It’s so pathetic.”
“Apple, I have no idea what you are talking about. I don’t even know how to turn your computer on. And I would never—never—read your private diary entries. I never even knew you kept a diary,” her mother said defensively.
“That’s bull, Mom, and you know it. What about your lecture to me about how I’m young and I should have a boyfriend my own age? You went on about that for days. And it’s because you read my diary entry about me being in love with Mr. Kelly. You started lecturing me immediately after I wrote that. And guess what, Mother? It was a fake entry I wrote just to trap you. And it worked. You read it, and you started in on me about it. So you knew. Don’t lie to me,” Apple screamed. “You knew!”
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