The Black Sheep

by Yvonne Collins, Sandy Rideout

  I dart a glance at Judy. “What did he say?”

  “Nothing,” Mona says. “Judy mentioned you ran into each other.”

  Judy winks to let me know she hasn’t provided details, and kindly changes the subject. “So, what’ll it be today, folks?”

  “I thought we’d go sightseeing,” Mona says. “What do you like to do, Kendra?”

  Before I can answer, Meadow recommends a local amusement park.

  It sounds all right to me, but Mona frowns. “We can do better than that. Kendra’s here to learn about Monterey’s history and discover our beautiful coastline. Let’s take a hike.”

  The prospect of discovering the coastline with Mona, Meadow, the twins, Egg, and the entire crew in tow isn’t very appealing. Besides, I’ve never been on a real hike. It sounds like work. As does the history lesson.

  Judy suggests a bike ride instead. “You could check out Cannery Row and Fisherman’s Wharf.” I start to protest but then she adds the magic words: “There are stores.”

  That’s different. Shopping is something my parents actually permit occasionally, because banker clones need to present well. In fact, before I left yesterday, my mother tucked a credit card into my hand “for emergencies.” My favorite jeans are a mess, which constitutes a fashion emergency, if you ask me. “Sounds good,” I say.

  “A bike ride it is,” Mona says. “But first our chores.” She points to the roster on the refrigerator. “Kendra, you’re taking over Maya’s, which means you’re on dish duty.”

  Chores? The whole point of this trip was to gain freedom, not more work. But it would be rude to complain. “Sure, where’s the dishwasher?”

  Mona puts the dishcloth in my hand and pats my back. “Right here.”

  Though normally in a tearing hurry, Judy has all the time in the world to shoot me cleaning up after the crew. Finally she cuts the camera and says, “Let’s go, Cinderella.”

  I toss the dishcloth at her, but Bob gallantly reaches out and intercepts it.

  * * *

  I haven’t been on a bike in a few years. Opportunities to ride are few and far between in New York. Dad, usually so anxious that I get proper exercise, is more anxious still about my risking death under a cab’s tires. He’s invested fifteen years in me and won’t relax until I’m safely locked up in some office tower.

  Maya looks normal enough in the family photos, but she must have an oversize cranium, because her bike helmet immediately tips forward and covers my face. Once Meadow stops laughing, she offers me hers and digs up another for herself. So not only do I have the physique of a ten-year-old, but I have a pinhead as well?

  “Be grateful, KB,” Judy says, sensing my thoughts. “It could have been Egg’s.”

  I set off down the street without answering, and Meadow pedals madly after me with the twins. Mona brings up the rear, her genie pants billowing in the wind. Egg is in a seat on the back of her bike. Having been trained by my father, I follow standard safety rules, including using lame hand signals. The twins laugh so hard at this that they veer into traffic and Mona screams. As if we weren’t causing enough of a commotion, what with Judy and the crew following in two white vans.

  Roaring up beside me, Judy shouts, “Slow down and chat with Mona.” She raises a walkie-talkie to her lips to communicate with the crew in the second van. “This is Wolf One to Wolf Two. Get a close-up of the mutton. I’m sending the lamb back there now. Over.”

  “What am I supposed to talk to Mona about? It’s not like we have anything in common.”

  “Talk about anything. Be spontaneous.”

  I may know the hand signal for a left turn, but I suck at spontaneous. Plus, my last impulsive moment got me into this mess. Fortunately, I know Judy well enough by now to realize she has something specific in mind. “Give me some ideas.”

  “Ask her what she likes to do in her spare time,” she prompts.

  I let Mona catch up to me, and while Bob leans out of the van to capture the moment, I ask, “Do you have any hobbies, Mona?”

  “Oh, yes, I love quilting,” she puffs, pedaling hard to keep up. “And macramé. But I hardly have time for them anymore because of our work with SORAC.”

  “SORAC?”

  She nods. “The Sea Otter Research and Conservation program at the Monterey Bay Aquarium. Southern sea otters were almost extinct at one time, and we’re helping them fight their way back.”

  “Interesting,” I say, although it’s not. I’m open to learning about marine life, but only if it features cute guys on surfboards.

  “The entire family is involved, even the little ones. Max is on several committees, I teach public education courses, and Mitch is a tracker.”

  “What does he keep track of?” I ask. How many house-guests he insults?

  “Rehabilitated otters. After they’re released to the wild, someone needs to keep an eye on them for a while to make sure they stay healthy. He’s been doing it for years.”

  That doesn’t sound like the jerk I met in the bathroom this morning. Someone in this family has a split personality. Or maybe he just prefers animals to humans.

  “Anyway,” Mona continues, “this is a cause dear to our hearts, and we’re hoping you’ll help out while you’re here.”

  “Help how?” I ask suspiciously. I knew Judy had something up her sleeve. The Mulligans must be recruiting for SNORAC.

  “For starters, I was thinking you might come to the aquarium tomorrow. I volunteered to work with some otters that got caught in an oil slick.”

  I ponder for a moment. “Do they bite?”

  Meadow, now riding so close to me that we risk locking pedals, says, “Maya isn’t afraid of anything.”

  I’ll bet she’s afraid of my parents.

  Mona ignores Meadow. “Not to worry, you’re too young to handle the wildlife anyway. What we really need is help cleaning out the kennels.”

  “I have plans for tomorrow.” I respond.

  Judy shouts from the van, “Yeah, plans to clean kennels.”

  So much for spontaneity.

  * * *

  By the time we reach Fisherman’s Wharf, our party of six has become a virtual parade. Over a dozen kids have joined us en route, attracted by the cameras.

  Noticing that I’m at the center of the action, someone asks, “Hey, are you making a movie?”

  Meadow saves me the trouble of answering. “We’re starring in a reality show called The Black Sheep.”

  We?

  The kid races around to tell everyone else. Some pull out cell phones to call their friends.

  Judy herds everyone out of the way, explaining that this is supposed to look like a natural family outing.

  “Please. You called in the whole crew to capture our arrival,” I say. “There’s nothing natural about it.”

  “Natural doesn’t make for good TV,” she agrees. “Television shows need structure and a story line.”

  “What’s my story line?” I ask, a little worried.

  She smiles enigmatically. “It’s evolving as we go. I’m hoping you’ll get off your butt and do something interesting.”

  “Wait till you see what I can do with a credit card.”

  “I mean something film-worthy. No one’s going to tune in to watch you shop.”

  “But they’re going to tune in to watch me being savaged by otters?”

  “Exactly.”

  I sigh. “I bet Maya has it easier.”

  “She’ll have her share of conflict, don’t you worry.”

  “Conflict?”

  “Too much peace and harmony puts viewers to sleep.”

  “You’re the one who told me to be likable.”

  Judy pretends to nod off. “I didn’t tell you to put the entire country into a coma.”

  I might have gotten something out of Cannery Row had I read any of John Steinbeck’s novels. Literature is not a high priority in the Banker Duplication program. Although my parents endorse basic literacy for the purposes of reading stock repor
ts, beyond that, reading simply consumes time that would be better spent on more practical pursuits. Like math.

  Mona mentioned that she owns Steinbeck’s collected works and suggested I read them while I’m here. I guess it couldn’t hurt. It would give me something to talk about at parties. I wonder if it’s possible to become well-rounded in a single month? More important, I wonder if there will be any parties to look well-rounded at?

  Mona didn’t have much patience for shopping, and kept muttering asides about commercialism. She probably would have enjoyed it more if she weren’t carrying a backpack large enough to contain her missing seventh child. When I suggested stopping for fish and chips, she was aghast. “Eating out is a big treat for us,” she said.

  I felt terrible, but Judy looked happy about the exchange. I guess that’s the type of conflict she’s looking for. It made me change my position on being likable: I’d far rather be America’s sweetheart than pick fights to keep viewers awake. Let Maya fill the show’s bitch quotient.

  To prove how sweet I am, I make an extra effort when we stop at a park for a picnic lunch. I rave about Mona’s egg salad sandwiches, even after learning it isn’t real egg, but tofu in disguise. I play tag with the twins, even though it means running on camera, which might give my parents false hope. I stop Egg from eating a thistle, even though it’s tempting to let him go. And I offer to let Meadow wear my jeans to her friend’s birthday party.

  Judy doesn’t complain, but her twitchy eyelid hasn’t winked in a full hour. Suddenly she brightens. The twins are racing toward their brother, who is approaching with two other guys.

  Bob trains the lens on me, and Chili closes in on Mitch.

  “You brought your friends to meet Kendra,” Mona says. “How sweet!”

  Mitch looks at her as if she’s lost her mind. “I came to borrow some money. We’re going to play pick-up basketball at the rec center.”

  Judy gives Mona an exaggerated wink, and Mona says, “Why don’t you take Kendra along?”

  His face drops. “Forget it.”

  “Mitch, she’s our guest and you will be polite.”

  He swallows hard. “Fine.”

  I reluctantly fall into step with the guys. On Judy’s command, Bob darts in front of us and turns to walk backward.

  By way of introduction, Mitch tells his friends, “Keep your curtains closed, Miss Big Apple’s a voyeur.”

  Realizing that any response I give will feed Judy’s hunger for conflict, I settle for huffy silence.

  He continues to goad me. “Nice hair. I see it all worked out this morning.”

  My face ignites because my hair looks awful and I know it. No blow-out can survive two hours in a ten-year-old’s bike helmet. Besides, there’s Egg’s sticky clump on the side that Judy wouldn’t give me time to fix.

  Fortunately, it isn’t far to the recreation center, and the guys immediately abandon me at the bleachers. Not that I am truly alone. The cameras capture me from several angles and are still rolling when a basketball hurtles toward me. It misses my head by inches and crashes against the wall.

  Mitch runs over to collect it. “Sorry,” he says. “Lost control of the ball.”

  I do what Rosa always told me to do in times of stress: “Send good thoughts.” Although it hurts even more than offering Meadow my jeans, I say, “No problem.”

  Undaunted, Mitch tries again. This time the basketball comes so close that only the syrup keeps my hair from blowing back from the force. I manage a weak smile because I know it will frustrate both Mitch and Judy.

  Before he can have another go at me, Carrie arrives. Despite her rude initiation to reality TV yesterday, she gives me a hug and introduces me to her friends. I’d be more flattered by their attention if they hadn’t arranged themselves in a semicircle for the cameras. Still, I’m happy to have a distraction.

  Soon I am too caught up in conversation to care about Mitch, and I almost—but not quite—forget about the crew. The girls offer to show me the “real sights,” starting with a trip to the Del Monte Center, a huge shopping mall.

  When we finally come up for air, the guys are gone.

  Under Mona’s watchful eye, I am learning to chop vegetables. Max is teasing me about my lack of dexterity, but I’m too tired to dish it back. Between the jet lag and exercise, today has felt like the longest day of my life. Maybe time just slows down in California. I can’t be sure: my watch is still missing.

  Giving up on me, Max chases the twins around the kitchen, roaring. As if they need to be revved up any more than they already are. He throws Egg over his shoulder and charges at Meadow, who shrieks and hurls a red pepper at them.

  “Focus on the knife,” Mona says calmly, as if this ruckus were perfectly normal. If it fazes her to have Bob and Chili watching us through their lenses, it doesn’t show.

  I focus on chopping the carrots into tiny, uniform squares.

  “They don’t have to be perfect,” she says. “There’s no test, dear.”

  I glance up at her, realizing that she would have read the letter I wrote to the Black Sheep producers. She probably thinks I’m a spoiled whiner.

  Max leans over Mona and blows a loud raspberry on her neck. She giggles, but I shoot him a disgusted look. Chuckling at my expression, he says, “It’s just like having Maya here.”

  Living life in front of the camera clearly isn’t fazing Max, either. I’m sure my father isn’t chuckling as cameramen chase him around the house. Come to think of it, Dad is already asleep; my parents need their shut-eye to ensure optimal running performance.

  Dinnertime at the Mulligans’ is frantic. Everyone has a task except Mitch, who called to say he was eating at a friend’s, and Egg, who is confined to his high chair. When I finish the carrots, Mona sets me to work on the yams.

  Rosa never let me help with dinner, but she liked it when I sat on a stool by the counter and told her stories about my day. Even when she was cooking something complicated, she managed to ask the right questions and roll her eyes at the right places. Then she’d give me the first taste of whatever she was making, as if my opinion really mattered. “Just a little more basil,” I’d say. We put basil in everything because Dad banned real spice from the house after his ulcer nine years ago.

  Mona beckons me to the stove. “Taste this for me, will you, dear?”

  I taste the grain dish she proffers. “It’s good. Maybe you could try a little basil.”

  She snips a handful of leaves from a plant on the windowsill, adds them to the pot, and tastes it. “Good call.”

  I’d be pleased, if Judy weren’t sitting at the kitchen table, flexing her Donkey smile. She’s made me mistrustful of everything. This, too, could have been staged.

  When Max heads into the backyard, Bob and Chili instantly lose interest in me and join him at the barbecue. Mona and Judy follow a moment later.

  Seizing my chance, I sneak upstairs to the bedroom and dial Lucy’s number.

  “Hey,” she says. “I thought you weren’t allowed to make calls.”

  “I’m not, but I wanted to say hi. I miss you.”

  “I miss you too. How’s it going?”

  “Not great. The cameras are freaking me out, and I don’t know how to act.”

  “Maya’s finding it hard, too,” she says.

  “So you’ve met her?”

  “Yeah. Katie invited me over. She’s really cool.”

  That figures. Maya gets a really cool producer, and I get stuck with Judy.

  “Well, what’s Maya like?” I ask. “Everyone at this end says she’s a bitch.”

  “Really?” Lucy sounds surprised. “I like her.”

  This can’t be happening. I’ve been kicked out of my own home and my replacement is stealing my best friend. “Luce, she keeps a ferret!”

  “I’ve seen pictures. He’s adorable.”

  “Are you kidding? It’s a rat with a better stylist. What kind of a person sleeps with vermin?”

  “An animal lover, I suppose. Hey,
guess what? Your mom took Maya to the Met.”

  I gasp. “How could she?”

  “You hate the Met.”

  “Of course I hate the Met. That’s not the point.”

  “Well, if it makes you feel any better, they didn’t go for tea afterward.”

  “They didn’t?” That does make me feel better.

  “No, Katie wanted me to take Maya shopping instead.”

  And that makes me feel worse. Shopping with Lucy is my biggest pleasure in life, and now Maya has ruined it.

  “I didn’t take her to any of our favorites stores,” Lucy says. “She wouldn’t like them anyway. Her taste is a little…crunchy granola.”

  I heave a sigh of relief. “The Mulligans are hippies. Their kids were born tie-dyed.”

  She laughs. “I’m trying to offer some guidance. The show gave her a clothing allowance.”

  “What?!”

  The door opens and Judy and Bob step into the room. Judy’s lips are sealed in a thin line.

  “Gotta go, Luce,” I say, pushing the end button. I bet Katie allows phone calls.

  “Kendra, you know the rules,” Judy says. “No contact with friends or family. That’s why you had to leave your cell phone at home.”

  I decide to go on offense. “How come Maya gets a clothing allowance and you wouldn’t even buy me a souvenir T-shirt today?”

  “You have all the clothes you need, and the Mulligans are on a tight budget.”

  “But I don’t get paid for the show until it’s over and my parents aren’t sending my allowance. It’s unfair.” I toss the phone onto Meadow’s bed and it bounces to the floor.

  Judy studies me. “What’s really bothering you?

  I see her tap her temple, a sign I now recognize as “zoom in,” but I ignore it. “Katie sent Maya shopping with Lucy, and she’s my friend.”

  Judy shows her teeth again. “Someone sounds a little threatened.”

  “I’m not threatened,” I lie. “But if Maya’s own family says she’s a bitch, she shouldn’t be hanging with my best friend.”

  “You’re exchanging lives. That includes families and friends.” She throws her arm around me and pulls me toward the door. “Why don’t you stop thinking about what you left behind and start thinking about the fun you’ll have here?”