The Black Sheep

by Yvonne Collins, Sandy Rideout

  Make that Judy’s plan to divorce my parents for me. I have no intention of pretending to take the question of emancipation seriously on the air. Sure, I’m still upset at my parents for not supporting my new interests, but that’s no reason to make silly threats. I fully intend to go home to New York eventually. California isn’t going to work for me forever. Unless Mitch and I get married, that is. But it’s too early to think about that.

  Beyond the curtain, it’s become very quiet. Nelle studies a card in her hand and reads, “Now would you please welcome a little black sheep who’s come all the way from smoggy New York City to graze in the sweet California sunshine…Kendra Bishop!”

  The DJ cues up a song I’ve never heard before and, just as Judy predicted, Nelle starts to dance. The flunky gives me a shove and I start walking toward Nelle, shaking my shoulders a little. Nelle gives a shimmy and I shimmy back, tossing my head around for good measure. She raises one arm and I shoot mine up, too.

  “Are you okay?” Nelle asks, when I finally reach her. “I thought the black sheep got struck by lightening.”

  The audience howls. Okay, this isn’t the best start.

  I take the seat across from her and she smiles. It’s friendly enough, but her eyes seem a little glazed, as if she doesn’t really see me. “That’s a nice outfit, Kendra.”

  “Thanks.” The makeover is working!

  Nelle turns to the audience and says, “It looks like someone’s taking her role a little too seriously.” When the laugh subsides, she adds, “But at least she’s not wearing her fleece tonight, huh, folks?” Nelle selects a card from the coffee table and holds it up for the camera. Glancing at the monitors, I see it’s the Carmel Pinecone photo of me on the donkey. “Did you know someone’s selling the original on eBay?” Nelle asks. She doesn’t wait for me to answer before turning to her DJ. “How much is the bidding up to today?”

  The DJ taps into a laptop computer. “Two hundred and four dollars.”

  “Obviously you have some fans, Kendra,” Nelle says. “I guess denouncing your parents on national television has made you the hero of every teen in America.”

  This time she pauses long enough for me to respond. “I didn’t denounce them,” I say. “Everyone knows these shows are edited to—”

  “Blah, blah, black sheep,” Nelle interrupts. “There’s no use denying it. We all saw the show, didn’t we?” The audience cheers. “You said you hated your parents and divorcing them is a great idea.”

  I see a chance to exit the divorce freeway, and take it. “I’ll admit I was angry with them, Nelle, but only because they wouldn’t take Team Fourteen seriously.”

  “Team Fourteen?” Nelle leans forward in her chair, curious. Ha. Score one for the kid on the donkey.

  “It’s a public education group. We’re letting people know about a threat to marine wildlife in Carmel. The Boulder Beach Golf Club is planning to redesign its course, which could put the sea otter population at even more risk.”

  I’ve heard that Nelle is a major animal lover, so I’m half expecting her to announce a drive to save the otters. If she does, Lisa Langdon will be begging this hopeless screwup for forgiveness.

  “Do your parents golf, Kendra?” Nelle asks. “Are you a golf orphan who’s trying to get even?”

  That’s not the response I was hoping for. Nelle is trying to set a divorce trap for me, but I’m not that gullible. “My parents prefer running.”

  “Running away from you?” she asks, without missing a beat. “No wonder you want to turn the tables now.”

  “I’m not running away from anything, Nelle. I ran toward a free vacation in sunny California.”

  The audience laughs.

  Scoreboard says: Black Sheep, one; famous talk-show host, zero.

  Before she can reply, I add, “The show has given me a chance to meet some people who really care about the environment. I’m just trying to lend my support.”

  Nelle turns to the audience. “Sounds like Kendra’s got a talent for public speaking. But it doesn’t end there, people.” She reaches down beside her chair and picks up a flute. This can’t be good. “The bio your show sent me said you’re a musician, Kendra.”

  “I’ve only taken lessons for a couple of years.”

  “I’m sure your fans would love to hear you play.” She turns to the audience and they burst into a cheer.

  And the score is tied, folks: one all.

  My hand shakes as I take the flute. Music isn’t my calling and I know that, but I see an opportunity to turn this to my advantage.

  I raise the flute to my lips and do my best rendition of “Bah, Bah, Black Sheep.” The audience recognizes the first few notes and applauds.

  Rack up another point for the undersheep.

  Nelle tries dancing to the song, but I hit so many sour notes that she cuts me off after four bars. “That’s all the time we have today, but before we say good-bye to Kendra, we have something for her.”

  She pulls out a gift bag and hands it to me. I unwrap what appears to be a small black hammock.

  “Your very own set of Donkey diapers!” Nelle announces gleefully.

  The crazed laughter blows me off the stage and into the wings.

  Final score: Famous Talk Show Host, ten; Black Sheep, slaughtered.

  When I get back to the greenroom, I head straight to the food table. It’s going to take half a dozen chocolate cupcakes to recover from that experience.

  “Save one for me,” a male voice says behind me.

  I spin to find a tall, dark, and very cute guy standing behind me. I’ve seen his face before.…Every single morning as soon as I open my eyes, actually.

  “You’re Logan Waters,” I say, spraying him with cupcake crumbs.

  He hands me a stack of napkins. “And you’re the Black Sheep.”

  Nodding, I hold a napkin against my mouth. “My sister—on the show, that is—loves you.”

  “Meadow,” he says. “I know. My agent told me about the shrine, so I tuned in.”

  I hope he doesn’t think that just because Meadow and I share a room that we’re equally immature. “She’s only ten. She gets carried away.”

  “Well, tell her I said hi,” he says. “I was watching you out there just now. I thought you did a great job. Talk shows can be tough, especially for beginners.”

  “Nelle totally humiliated me.”

  “You held your own,” he says. “I’m guessing the emancipation thing wasn’t your idea.”

  “How did you know?”

  “I’ve been around the block a few times. There’s always someone behind the scenes pulling strings. All you can do is keep fighting. You have to stay true to yourself.”

  Logan Waters is giving me advice! Wait until Lucy hears about this. She will freak out. I am freaking out a little myself, although I’m working hard to hide it. A Black Sheep must be above hero worship.

  Logan is a well-known environmentalist, so when he asks me about Team 14, I give him all the details, even the story about meeting the Bigwigs.

  When I finally stop talking, he asks, “How old are you?”

  This flusters me. If Logan is curious about my age, he must be thinking of ditching the model girlfriend for me. I wouldn’t have thought it possible, given how much younger I am, but I’ve always been mature for my age. Plus, I’m not the same private-school math nerd who left New York.

  Not that I can even think about going out with him. Logan may be one of the coolest, best-looking guys I have ever met, but I do have a boyfriend.

  At least, I think I have a boyfriend. Mitch still hasn’t come right out and said the word “girlfriend,” but he acts as if I am. I catch him looking at me a lot, and he keeps trying to find opportunities to get me alone. And then this morning, he lent me his iPod for the plane and told me he’d downloaded some songs he thought I’d like. That is such a boyfriend thing to do.

  On the other hand, we’ve stolen a few moments together here and there since our mini golf date, and
Mitch could easily have let me know where I stand. How hard could it be to work that one little word into a sentence? As in, “I am so glad I could lend my iPod to my girlfriend.” Or, “It’s great to be working on Team Fourteen with my girlfriend.”

  Given that Mitch hasn’t said the word, I decide to keep my options open with Logan. Mitch is definitely my first choice, but if he’s not going to commit, Logan Waters would be a great fallback.

  Logan startles me out of my reverie. “Is that such a tough question?”

  “Sorry?”

  “I asked how old you are.”

  Since I’m keeping my options open, I exaggerate. “Eighteen.”

  He laughs. “I wouldn’t have put you a day over sixteen.”

  I’ll take it. Now that I think about it, I could totally see Logan and me together. We’re both from New York, and he’s obviously someone who shares my concerns about animals and the environment. Meadow’s magazines haven’t said he’s hung up about education, either. He probably doesn’t believe in getting stuck in ivy-covered bastions of higher learning when he could be out in the world learning by doing. In other words, he might be a Black Sheep, just like me.

  Still, I don’t feel good about leading Logan on. “Listen,” I say. “There’s something I—”

  Before I can let him down easily, the flunky arrives to collect him. Logan reaches out to rap my hand lightly with his fist and says, “It was nice meeting you, Kendra.”

  “Wait!” I call as he turns to go. “Could you give me your autograph—for Meadow?”

  I offer him a napkin, and while he’s signing it, I write something on another one. We exchange napkins and he waves good-bye.

  “You tricked me, KB,” Judy says, practically shoving me into the limo. “I did not spring for an all expenses-paid trip to Los Angeles so that you could grandstand about some stupid cause on my dime.”

  “Telling people about a real problem isn’t grandstanding,” I say.

  Judy slams the door and walks around the car, complaining audibly the whole way.

  “Don’t speak,” she says, climbing into the seat beside me. “Just listen. Harry Queen’s people called while you were on with Nelle, and he wants you to do his show tonight. Once we set foot in the CNN studio, the word ‘seal’ will not cross your lips. There’s only one animal that Harry Queen wants to hear about and that’s The Black Sheep. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Perfectly.” I unfold the napkin Logan gave me. It says, Meadow, your big ‘sister’ Kendra rocks, and you do, too! Love, Logan Waters.

  Judy reaches for the napkin but I snatch it away and stow it in my purse. With this to barter, Meadow will never borrow my clothes again.

  “I’m serious, KB,” Judy continues. “If you keep harping on about Team Fourteen, I won’t be the only one in trouble with the network. The divorce is the issue here. That’s what talk-show hosts want you to talk about. Repeat after me: From now on, I will discuss only The Black Sheep.”

  “From now on,” I say, “I will discuss only The Black Sheep.”

  Harry Queen shakes my hand and turns to the camera.

  “Good evening, everyone. Tonight’s guest is a young lady from New York City who’s joined forces with her new friends and family in Monterey, California, to take on a Carmel institution. Kendra Bishop, I want you to tell me all about Team Fourteen.”

  It’s quiet inside the limo as the driver rounds the corner onto the Mulligans’ street. Judy glances up from her Enquirer magazine to make sure I’m aware that she’s giving me the silent treatment. Apparently it’s my fault that Harry Queen was more interested in discussing Team 14 than The Black Sheep last night. Apparently it’s also my fault that three radio shows wanted me to talk about the same thing on the air today. I pointed out that I’m just giving the people what they want, but Judy said that if I hadn’t “ranted about the damn seals” on Nelle, they wouldn’t have wanted the wrong thing. Whatever. She’s the one who set up the talk-show circuit, not me.

  Chili is alone outside with his camera when we pull into the driveway, which is strange. The Mulligan house is usually a magnet for every kid in the neighborhood, but today it looks deserted.

  “Where is everyone?” I ask Chili as the driver deposits my bags on the porch.

  He shrugs. “Dunno. Place seems pretty quiet.”

  I dig the house key out of my bag and unlock the front door. “Hello! I’m home!”

  There’s no response. Judy and Chili trail behind me as I walk through the house and open the door to the backyard. Empty. Not even the dog to greet me.

  “Gee, what a letdown,” Judy says, breaking her silence to taunt me. “I’m sure you were expecting a hero’s welcome after your antics in L.A.”

  “I wasn’t expecting anything,” I say, lugging my suitcase upstairs. I was, of course, but it’s not like coming home to an empty house is new to me. After my parents fired Rosa, the place was so empty it echoed. I could have screamed my head off and no one would have heard me inside that marble tomb.

  When I first came to Monterey, the Mulligan house felt like Grand Central Station, with its constant traffic. It took me weeks to adjust to the noise and frenzy, but now that I have, I realize that one of the things I like most about living here is that there’s someone to greet me whenever I walk through the door. Mona always makes a point of asking about my day and discussing the highs and lows as if they’re actually interesting to her. She does the same thing with Mitch and Meadow and even the twins. I imagine she learned the technique in some hippie encounter group, but it does make you feel special.

  In my room, I sit down on the bed and stroke Manhattan. While I haven’t grown to love him, I no longer cringe when I feel his bones through his pelt. Tonight, he’s better than nothing. I scratch under his chin and something shiny drops out of his jaws onto the quilt: Judy’s diamond ring.

  I pick it up as she walks into the room and starts in on me again. “KB, even your seal-whisperer shtick is more interesting than this.”

  “No one’s keeping you here,” I say. I change my mind about returning the ring to her and slide it under the pillow. Maybe I can pawn it later and use the proceeds to start up a school to promote Black Sheepism.

  “You’re right,” she says. “Wrap it up, Chili. I happen to know where we can get a free drink. God knows I need one.”

  Judy must really be steamed over Harry Queen if she’s skipping out before tonight’s Black Sheep episode airs, but I don’t try to stop her. Instead, I watch out the front window as the limo pulls away from the curb, and then head back into the kitchen to get a soda.

  Although I didn’t expect a hero’s welcome, I did count on Mitch’s being here to greet me. Yesterday was a really big day, with more excitement than I’ve experienced in an entire lifetime. At the very least, he should want to hear about it firsthand. Is it too much to ask to share this experience with my boyfriend? What’s the point of even having one if he’s not going to be around when you need him? He’s probably off doing guy things with Calvin during my time of need, leaving me to confide in a ferret.

  Looking around for a pen and paper to write my breakup speech, I find Mona’s note on the kitchen table: Kendra, we’re at the aquarium.

  The aquarium has already closed by the time I arrive, but being an activist in residence I have a key. I hurry to the supply room, assuming that there’s an impromptu meeting. Maybe the golf club has reacted to my talk-show appearances in some way, and everyone has gathered to brainstorm.

  I fling open the supply room door to find more than two dozen people crammed inside. The Mulligans are all here, as well as Carrie and Calvin, aquarium staff and volunteers, and all of Team 14. Obviously something big has happened, and I arrived just in time.

  Then I notice the streamers hanging from the light fixtures, and the food laid out on one of the desks. Are they having a party without me?

  Mitch is the first to notice me, and he comes right over. If anyone else happened to be watching, they’d proba
bly say he rushed. His smile is wide enough to satisfy even my doubts. I don’t know what I was thinking earlier. Logan Waters may be rich, talented, and hot, but he’s no Mitch.

  “Welcome back,” Mitch says. His arms rise as if he’s going to hug me, but he remembers where we are and drops them again.

  I resist the urge to grab his hand. “What’s going on?” I ask.

  Mona steps forward to do the hugging for us. “Let’s hear it, people,” she says, turning to the crowd.

  Everyone sings “For She’s a Jolly Good Fellow.” Meadow’s voice soars above the rest of the voices and Max’s croaking bass sinks below.

  A grin stretches across my face. “For me?”

  Mona points to a sign on the wall congratulating me. “Do you see anyone else’s name? Sorry we couldn’t pull off the surprise. We didn’t know when you’d get here.”

  “Oh, I’m surprised,” I assure her.

  Meadow rushes over and says, “She ruined the surprise. She said Bob would radio in when you got to the aquarium so that we could turn out the lights and hide.” The “she” in question is Judy, who is leaning against a makeshift bar with a glass of red wine in her hand.

  “So I forgot,” Judy says, draining her glass. “Big deal.”

  Carrie whispers, “What’s her problem? She’s been a bitch since she got here.”

  “Too much otter, not enough divorce,” I reply. “As if I would diss my parents on national TV just to make Judy happy. I hope they caught Nelle’s show so that they know I’m not buying into the plan.”

  “Bad news on that front,” Carrie says. “Judy mentioned that your parents are running a marathon in Mexico with Maya this week. They probably didn’t see it.”

  Before I can react, Team 14 members surround us. Mitch hands me a soda and raises his glass to propose a toast. “To Kendra, who really knows how to get the word out.”

  “To Kendra,” everyone echoes, clinking plastic glasses.