The Black Sheep

by Yvonne Collins, Sandy Rideout

  “They’re real,” she says, “just not mine. Your Glamour magazine said long lashes would make my eyes look bigger.” She plucks at the strands of hair stuck to her high-gloss lips.

  “Did Glamour also say my lip gloss would make your lips look bigger? Or that my blue T-shirt would make your—”

  Mitch and Calvin’s arrival prevents me from getting more graphic.

  “Where’s Lisa?” I ask.

  “Dropping off samples at the lab,” Mitch says. He pushes Calvin toward a computer. “Show Kendra what you’ve done.”

  Calvin types a Web address, and the brand new Team 14 Web site pops up.

  I click through the site. “This is fantastic.”

  “How goes the battle on the home front?” Mitch asks.

  Eager to prove that I have the skills to do more than arrange desks, I tell him about my calls to the president of the Boulder Beach Golf Club.

  “How did it go?” he asks.

  I shake my head regretfully. Not only has the president refused to take my call, but the vice president and all manner of lower-ranking plebes have dissed me, too. I ended up delivering my spiel about moving the fourteenth hole to the receptionist in the hopes that she’d convey the message to her higher-ups. That’s when she asked me to stop pestering them with “nuisance calls.”

  “It’s so rude,” I tell Mitch. “They won’t even listen to me.”

  Mitch nods toward the Black Sheep cameras. “Let’s talk about it later.”

  Glancing at Bob and Chili, it occurs to me that there’s more than one way to “educate” people about an issue. “I don’t care if they’re filming this,” I say. “I want the public to know that these people are arrogant and ignorant and cold. I swear, I will not give up this fight until things change. They will learn that they can’t mess with Kendra Bishop.”

  “Hear, hear,” Carrie yells.

  That’s all the encouragement I need to climb onto my chair. “Listen up, everybody. I say it’s time we take this show on the road. Team Fourteen should go to Carmel! We’ve got to get them to drop their golf clubs and take notice.”

  Led by Carrie and Tia, the group begins to applaud.

  Inspired to continue, I yell into Bob’s camera, “We’ll plaster the town with posters. We’ll set up a public meeting. We’ll go door-to-door with a petition. And we’ll picket City Hall if that’s what it takes. We will not rest until our demands are met!”

  The cheer reverberates around the supply room until an angry voice rings out from the back of the room.

  “What the hell is going on?”

  Lisa paces back and forth in front of me. We’re in her office and Judy’s face is pressed against the glass door beside Chili’s lens. This time Lisa doesn’t bother to close the blinds. “Let’s get one thing straight,” she says. “Kendra Bishop is not the star of Team Fourteen.”

  “I never said I was.”

  “We are a group of people working toward a common goal, which is raising awareness, not causing trouble.”

  “I know that.”

  “If you know that, why are you harassing people with dozens of phone calls? If you piss them off, they won’t even listen to what we have to say. My plan was to gather some preliminary data and present my findings in a professional way. They would have taken my call because I’m an academic.”

  It’s amazing how often she can work that into a conversation. She’s going to be one of those Ph.D.’s who insists on being called “Doctor.”

  “How was I supposed to know you didn’t want them to know about Team Fourteen yet?” I ask. “I mean, they’ll hear about us eventually. In case you haven’t noticed,” I lower my voice to a stage whisper, “there are television cameras following me around.”

  “Oh, I’ve noticed,” she says. “The only reason I let you back in here is that the Mulligans are the bedrock of our volunteer program. As for Team Fourteen, I wanted to get some influential lobby groups on our side before I met with the golf executives. Now those groups are going to think we’re rank amateurs.”

  “At least they’re going to know we’re passionate about our beliefs,” I argue. “Discussing every angle of the problem and analyzing endless data won’t help. We need to do something.”

  “What we need is for you to stop acting like you’re too important to follow the rules around here.”

  Chili runs out of tape before Lisa runs out of steam, and by the time I return to the supply room, everyone but Mitch has gone home for the night.

  “Where’s our favorite set of teeth?” he asks, powering down the computers.

  “She went back to the hotel to celebrate because she got enough conflict on tape to fill a miniseries.”

  “Lisa really came down on you, huh?”

  I nod. “Honestly, Mitch, I wasn’t trying to take over, and I didn’t mean any harm in calling up the club.” I’d like to tell him that I think her plan to bore the club’s president to death with lectures and statistics is lame, but she is his friend.

  “She can’t fault you for being enthusiastic.”

  “Oh, she faults me all right.”

  “She’ll get over it,” he assures me. “Give her time.”

  After locking up, we wind our way through the darkened aquarium galleries toward the exit.

  Mitch stops outside an exhibit. “Hang on,” he says. “I always say good night to the jellyfish.”

  “That’s one exhibit I’ve skipped,” I say. “It’s usually packed with screaming kids.”

  Beckoning, he goes inside. “You’ve got to see it.”

  I follow him hesitantly into the darkness. “Don’t you jump out at me.”

  “I thought you were only scared of sharks,” he says from somewhere ahead of me.

  “Oh, no, the list is long.” I turn to go. “How about we say good morning to the jellyfish instead?”

  “Wait,” Mitch says, catching my hand and leading me farther into the exhibit. “It’s gotta be dark. That’s the best way to see them.”

  My eyes begin to adjust to the dim, but I’m no longer looking for jellyfish. All I can focus on is the warmth of Mitch’s hand.

  He stops in front of one of the largest tanks. “The sea nettles are my favorite,” he says. “Can you believe they have no bones and no heart? They’re ninety-five per cent water, which means there isn’t much appeal for predators.”

  There isn’t much appeal for humans either, at least from what I can see. It’s just a bunch of shadowy shapes in the water. But with Mitch holding my hand, it’s by far the best lecture I’ve had in some time. To prolong it, I decide to show some interest. “They sting, don’t they?”

  “Only if they get loose,” he says. “And if that happens, I’ll protect you.”

  He taps on the glass until I catch his other hand. “Stop it. You’ll piss them off.”

  “I’m just making sure they’re awake,” he says. He shakes his hand free and reaches for a button. “Watch this.”

  A light comes on in the circular tank, illuminating dozens of bright orange jellyfish, some larger than dinner plates, against an intense electric blue background. I watch, mesmerized, as they pulse slowly and rhythmically through the water. Below the large bells of their bodies dangle delicate orange tentacles and feathery wisps that look like white vapor trails against a clear blue sky.

  I grope for a word that does justice to what I’m seeing, but my mental dictionary overloads and spits out, “Spectaculous.”

  “Exactly,” Mitch says, laughing. “Whatever that means.”

  I’d be embarrassed, except that he doesn’t seem to mind. He’s moved in so close to me that his laughter buzzes against my ear and sends a shiver down my spine. Then he steps around in front of me, and I just know that he’s going to kiss me. Carrie was right, it’s animal instinct. My stomach does a nervous flip. It’s not that I haven’t kissed a guy before—I have. Earlier this year, Rosa offered to chaperone a school dance so that I could go. I met this guy from another school, and at the en
d, he kissed me. It wasn’t horrible or anything, but I have to admit, it didn’t rock my world. I figured it was my fault—that my parents confiscated the how-to manual every other girl gets before it reached me.

  Mitch doesn’t wait for my warning about the missing manual before kissing me. It’s just as well, because animal instinct kicks right in to compensate for the knowledge deficit. So this is what the fuss is about. Our mouths come together like two pieces of the same puzzle, a perfect fit. I open my eyes just long enough to see the jellyfish floating around his head like balloons. Then he wraps his arms around me, and I do the same. Four tentacles, no sting.

  Finally Mitch pulls away and looks at me. “Spectaculous,” he says.

  “Exactly,” I say.

  Suddenly, I hear Judy’s voice echo over a walkie-talkie in the distance. “This is Wolf One. Has anyone found the lamb?”

  Mitch and I jump apart, and I smooth my hair with my fingers. “In here,” I call. My voice is all spidery and high, a total giveaway.

  Mitch begins reading the wall plaque aloud so that Judy will think we’re having an educational moment.

  “KB?” Judy calls. “What did I tell you about hiding?” She steps into the gallery and shines a huge flashlight into Mitch’s face. “What’s going on here?”

  “We’re studying the jellyfish,” Mitch says, squinting. “You’ve got to understand the basics about invertebrates before you can appreciate the rest of the exhibits.”

  “So you’re showing her the basics?” Judy asks. “In the dark?”

  Her leer could transform a beautiful moment into something slimy, but I’m not about to let that happen. “Oh, look, Mitch,” I say, reading aloud from another wall plaque, “jellyfish tentacles are covered with stinging cells that paralyze prey and move it into the mouth for digestion. It sounds just like a producer’s job.”

  Judy jerks her flashlight over to blind me, proving that she moves a lot faster than your average jellyfish.

  Max and Mona made only one special request when they agreed to participate in The Black Sheep, and that was for Sunday dinner to be a camera-free event. Judy and crew have respected this request, but after discovering Mitch and me in the jellyfish exhibit, she had no intention of releasing her prey without a few good stings. Over Mona’s objections, she invited herself for a vegetarian feast and brought Bob along to document the occasion.

  “So, Kendra,” she begins in her singsong, ha-ha-I’m-about-to-drop-a-bomb-on-you voice. “Are you excited about going home tomorrow?”

  “Tomorrow?” I say, trying to disguise the panic in my voice. She can’t pull the plug on this now. My life is just beginning to heat up—in more ways than one. “I have a whole week to go. Plus, you said these things usually hang over.”

  “I did say that, but your endless complaints haven’t fallen on deaf ears, kiddo. I made a few calls and busted you out of here early.” She takes a huge gulp of wine and dabs at the edges of her mouth with an otter napkin. “You can thank me later.”

  I’m sure it’s no coincidence that the minute I start to enjoy myself, Judy has to shake it up again in the endless search for conflict.

  “You don’t have enough footage for the final shows,” I point out.

  “I’ve got loads of footage in the bank. We’ll be fine.”

  “What about Maya? She’s having a great time and I’m sure she doesn’t want to come home early.”

  “Maybe we’ll have you both in New York for a bit. I’m still working out the details.”

  I look around the table for support, but everyone appears to be in shock, especially Mitch. “I can’t go yet,” I say.

  “Why not?” She grins around her wine glass at Mitch. “What’s changed?”

  “What’s changed is Team Fourteen. I’ve never been involved in a project like this before, and I want to see it through.”

  “You mean, Team Lost Cause. You can’t honestly believe that motley crew is going to convince a prestigious golf club to rearrange its multimillion-dollar designer fairway because of a couple of dead seals?”

  “That’s exactly what I believe. Except for the fact that it’s otters.” The more Judy disses Team 14, the more determined I am to do whatever it takes to prove her wrong.

  Max raps his fork against the table. “You tell her, honey.”

  “You’re welcome to stay here even after filming is done,” Mona says.

  I smile with relief. “Then I’ll be here a while longer.”

  Judy punches some buttons into the phone and hands it to me. “Let’s get your parents’ permission,” she says.

  “Do you mind if I take this upstairs? It’s a private conver—”

  “Zoom in,” Judy tells Bob.

  My mother picks up at the other end, and with a last desperate look at Mitch, I say, “Hi, Mom, it’s Kendra.”

  “Kendra?” She sounds confused.

  “Kendra Bishop—your daughter.”

  Judy grabs the phone and presses speaker so that Bob’s mike can pick up both sides of the conversation.

  Meanwhile, my father comes on the extension. “Is everything all right, Kendra? You’re not supposed to call, are you?”

  “It’s okay, Dad, I have permission to break the rules. But everything’s all right.”

  “Good,” he says. “You look well on the show. The Mulligans must be taking good care of you. Please tell them their daughter is delightful.”

  “Delightful,” Mom echoes.

  I haven’t spoken to my parents in weeks and all they want to talk about is Maya. “I saw what you let her do to my room,” I say.

  “It can all be changed back,” Mom says.

  “I didn’t change her room at all.” I don’t know why I’m going on about this, since I don’t even care anymore.

  “Let’s not worry about that now,” Dad says. “When are you coming home?”

  I tell them all about Boulder Beach and Team 14. “Mona said I could stay as long as it takes to get the club to agree to do the right thing.”

  “Your father and I golfed there last fall after the San Francisco Marathon,” Mom says. “It’s already marvelous, but moving that hole to the shore would make it even better.

  I can’t believe my ears. “It won’t be marvelous for the otters living in the cove.”

  Dad cuts in. “I’m sure the Coast Guard can move them along. Get Max to give them a call.”

  I feel my face flush at their ignorance. “Dad, they’re animals. They have the right to live wherever they want.”

  “Be reasonable, Kendra. Surely there’s a compromise?”

  “There’s no compromise. Besides, the golf club wouldn’t take any of my calls.”

  “You can’t pester them like that, Kendra,” Dad says, his voice becoming stern. “They’re busy people with a business to run.”

  “I thought you’d be proud that I’m becoming a concerned citizen.” I didn’t actually think so, but it would have been nice.

  “It sounds like bleeding-heart foolishness,” he says.

  Mom says, “If you’re really interested in these…”

  “Otters,” I supply.

  “…you could take a course at the Central Park Zoo. As long as it counts as a science credit, we’re in full support.”

  “You’d be in full support of my jumping off the Brooklyn Bridge if it counted as a science credit,” I say, raising my voice.

  “You’re being ridiculous,” Mom says.

  “And you’re missing the point! You’re not listening to me.”

  “Of course we’re listening,” Mom says, sounding surprised by my outburst.

  “But you still have to come home,” Dad concludes. “Judy called earlier to say we should expect you tomorrow night. We can’t wait for you to meet Maya—”

  I click END and hand the phone back to Judy, wondering how long my cash from the show will hold out if I rent a place of my own in New York. Probably not long enough to make it through high school.

  The kitchen is quiet.
I scan the table. The only people who meet my eyes are the twins.

  “Your parents are mean,” Mason says. Matt nods agreement.

  “They’re not mean, they’re just not interested in animals,” I say, although I can see why the twins would think so. Why couldn’t my parents support my interests for once? Here I am, thrilled to be part of a team that’s trying to make a difference, and all they can think about is the busy executives we’re bothering.

  Mona is watching me with sympathetic eyes. “We know they’re good people, dear. They’ve been wonderful with Maya.”

  Silence descends once again, broken only by the clatter of knives and forks on china. Meadow is the first to speak. “Are those real diamonds?” she asks, pointing to the ring on Judy’s right hand.

  Judy rolls her eyes. “There are no fakes in Judy’s life, kid.”

  That’s a laugh. From where I’m sitting, everything’s fake in Judy’s life.

  “Can I try it on?” Meadow asks.

  “If you must.” She takes the ring off and passes it to Meadow.

  Meadow slips the glittery rock onto her skinny finger. “Are you engaged?”

  Judy shakes her head. “It’s a commitment ring—a commitment to Judy. I don’t need a man to buy me nice things.”

  Meadow is unimpressed. “I’d rather let guys buy the bling. That way, I can spend my money on a great big car.” She flings her arms apart to show how big, and the ring flies off her finger and shoots across the room.

  Before it’s even stopped rolling, there’s a flash of silver fur and the ring is gone.

  Judy leaps to her feet, knife at the ready. “Which way did it go? I’ll fillet that rat.”

  “Kids, you’d better find Manhattan before Judy does,” Mona says.

  Meadow and the twins follow Judy out of the room, while Bob documents the Great Ferret Hunt.

  “We know how frustrated you must be, Kendra,” Max says after they’re gone. “But your parents might come around when they’ve had a chance to think about it.”

  “You don’t know my parents,” I say, still too mortified to look at Mitch. “They just don’t get it.”