“Embarrassed to have a daughter like you.”
I’ll be getting nearly five grand from the show, thanks to the extension, and that might be enough to hire an assassin.
“I wouldn’t put my mother in a position like this,” Maya continues.
“The divorce wasn’t my idea,” I say. “I only agreed to explore it because I needed more time in Monterey to finish what I started.”
“You shouldn’t put a cause above your own family,” Maya says.
Now I see what’s bothering her. “Maya, if you feel your parents are involved with too many causes, you should take it up with them, not me.”
“I was just trying to give you a bit of friendly advice,” she says. “You keep saying you want more freedom, and I’m telling you to be careful what you wish for.”
Maya was obviously on the receiving end of all the bad personality traits in the Mulligan gene pool. “I don’t need advice from someone who listens to Britney Spears.”
Maya’s eyes widen in shock. “Keep your hands off my things!” she says. “Including my ferret.”
“Manhattan loves me. He sleeps with me every single night.” I stop short of mentioning that I’m almost as close to her brother.
I try to push past her, and she pushes back. “If your parents disown you—and they’re talking about it—don’t think you can steal mine,” she says. “I’m moving home soon, and there won’t be room in that house for both of us.”
“No kidding,” I say, turning to walk away. “I’ll tell Meadow your ego needs a king-size bed.”
“You’re going to end up all alone in the world, Kendra Bishop,” she shouts after me.
“That’s fine with me,” I shout back. She opens the door to my parents’ dressing room, flounces in, and slams it behind her.
My parents are not going to disown me, I’m quite sure of that. In the unlikely event that they do, however, I have a Black Sheep Rule to sustain me: From independence comes strength.
I hope.
While I was away doing the talk-show circuit, Lisa came up with the idea of holding a rally during the Boulder Beach charity golf tournament tomorrow.
It’s pretty similar to an idea I had last week, only back then it was called a sit-in and Lisa thought it was stupid. By renaming it, she gets to take full credit. There must be more educational value in a rally, although I can’t see how.
What is stupid is Lisa’s idea of holding an overnight campout on the actual site of the fourteenth hole. I don’t understand why we have to rough it overnight when we could just get an early enough start to beat the golfers, but no one asked my opinion. Obviously, Mitch goes along with whatever Lisa suggests. I guess that’s because she’s his mentor, whereas I am merely his girlfriend.
The only reason I’m not complaining about it as we rattle along toward Carmel in the Mulligans’ van is that I don’t want to ruin the short time we have alone.
Mitch isn’t nearly as thoughtful. “So, how was Maya?”
It’s the third time he’s asked the same question. Every time he takes a break from talking about Lisa, he talks about Maya. It’s frustrating, because I begged Carrie to take Meadow with her so that Mitch and I could talk about me. Two days ago I allowed Dr. Ernest to break me down in front of millions of viewers. It was such a sad lapse of Black Sheepism that I still haven’t recovered, and I could use a little moral support from my boyfriend.
“She seemed fine,” I say. My vague answers haven’t been cutting it, but what am supposed to do when the truth—that his sister is a bitch—isn’t pretty? Lie, of course, as any good girlfriend would do. “I think she’s having fun in New York.”
He looks unsatisfied. “What else did you talk about?”
“Music, pets…nothing important.”
“I get the feeling you’re not telling me the full story,” Mitch says.
I sigh. “Maya said something that upset me, that’s all.”
He glances over at me. “What?”
“She overreacted about the divorce thing. She said I was mean and that she’d never do something like that to Mona.”
Mitch smiles, apparently satisfied. “It sounds like the trip’s been good for her.”
What?! He’s totally missing the point, which is that his sister said I’m mean. He should be defending me like a normal boyfriend and reminding me that everyone hates Maya. Then he should reassure me that my parents will never disown me, no matter what. And that even if they do, he’ll always be there for me.
Maybe he agrees with Maya that I am a bad, ungrateful daughter. Or maybe he saw my parents in action on Dr. Ernest and realized I’m damaged goods. He’s probably going to dump me before it gets any more serious.
Unless I dump him first.
Mitch reaches over to take my hand. “I missed you,” he says. “I thought you did great on Dr. Ernest.”
On the other hand, there may be hope for us yet. “I can’t believe he brought my parents onto the show,” I say.
“I know.” He squeezes my hand. “I felt bad for you.”
He did? That’s so sweet! I won’t tell him I locked myself in the hotel bathroom after the show for so long that Judy threatened to call the fire department to break down the door. He’ll see that on The Black Sheep soon enough. For now, I can put on a brave front. “It was okay. I was mostly in shock.”
“How come you never told me about Rosa?” he asks.
The problem with confiding in guys is that sooner or later (in my case sooner) it gets uncomfortable. This discussion may be what I thought I wanted, but now that I have to ante up, my words have receded to the primitive part of my brain. I stare at a crack in the van’s windshield. “I don’t know.”
He waits for me to say more before adding, “It seems like you were close.”
I can’t lie to him when he’s holding my hand; he would feel it. Which means I have to tell the truth, no matter how lame it is. “We are close,” I say. “She’s the one who raised me.”
There’s no time for more, because we’ve reached the center of Carmel, and Mitch has to let go of my hand to guide the van into a parking spot. I’m simultaneously relieved and disappointed to end the discussion.
Mitch cuts the ignition, and a well-dressed couple turns to stare as the van continues to gasp and sputter for a few seconds longer. Eventually it releases a great belch of smoke that blocks the couple from view.
“How long has this heap been in your family?” I ask Mitch as he claws through the camping gear to find what we need for our day at the beach.
“Longer than I have,” he says. “With so many kids and only one income, my parents can’t afford a new one.” Lowering his voice to a whisper, he adds, “Don’t call her a heap. If you offend her, we might have to walk home.”
“You’re right, I should just be grateful that your dad let us take it for the day.”
“He was glad to have an excuse to rent one for the drive to Garberville,” he says.
“I figured your parents would give up the quilting show to join us tonight. They love a good tent rally.”
He winces. “I know, but I didn’t mention this one, because they only attend protests held on public property. Dad says their trespassing days ended when they became role models. They want us to use our voices, but they also want us to stay out of trouble.”
“It’s just a peaceful sit-in,” I say as we climb out of the van. “What could possibly go wrong?”
Mitch doesn’t answer because he’s scanning the street for the source of an odd sound. It falls somewhere between human and animal vocalization.
Our eyes light on The Black Sheep trucks, and Mitch pulls me behind the van so that we can spy on Judy, who is eating a Popsicle while chatting to someone I recognize from the Paco’s Tacos opening. She directs tooth wattage at the guy and touches his arm with her free hand. Then we hear the noise again.
“Is she…giggling?” I ask.
“It’s a mating call,” Mitch says, smiling. “That’s Ted Silve
r, a photographer from The Carmel Pinecone. He felt so bad about the photo of you in the sheep suit ending up on Nelle that he came by the aquarium and offered to help with Team Fourteen. Judy took such a shine to him that I keep inviting him back.”
“You’re matchmaking?”
Mitch returns my incredulous look. “I’m trying to distract her. I’m sure she’s already heard about the rally and has something up her sleeve. Maybe Ted can keep her out of the way.”
“So you’re pimping him for our cause?”
“He’s a consenting adult,” Mitch says, shrugging. “Besides, Judy doesn’t try to hide what she’s really like.”
Not normally, but that isn’t the Judy I know, listening to Ted with such rapt attention. “It doesn’t seem fair to Ted,” I say. “She’s evil.”
“Yeah, but she’s hot.”
I stare at him, horrified. “How could you say that?”
“I’m just being objective,” he says. “I can hate her and still see that she’s hot—in that librarian-with-a-wild-side sort of way.”
I must have been imagining our connection earlier. I don’t know this guy at all. How could he possibly find me attractive if he finds Judy attractive? Sure, she’s got good features, but that smile is something else. And she’s ancient. “Is that how guys really think?” I ask.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that when a girl thinks a guy is evil, she can’t see anything attractive about him, even if he’s the hottest guy on the planet.
Mitch smiles. “All I’m saying is, Ted knows what she’s like and he isn’t complaining.”
He certainly isn’t. When I look over again, he’s taking a bite from Judy’s Popsicle.
Carrie tosses me a tube as we spread our towels on the sand.
“Sunscreen?”
I pass it back to her. “Thanks, but I’m already covered.”
“I’d add some more,” Meadow says, moving my towel so that she can put hers next to Carrie’s. “You’re pretty pale.”
I move my towel back. “Remind me why I agreed to let you come today?”
“Like you had a choice,” she says. Max and Mona packed Meadow into the rental van with the rest of the kids this morning, but at the last minute she convinced them to let her stay behind, and we got stuck with her.
I squint to examine her face. “I hope that’s not my eyeliner you’re wearing.”
“No,” she says, “it’s mine.”
“Good. Because I have one just like it and it gave me conjunctivitis.”
“Conjunctawhat?” she asks, looking nervous.
“Pinkeye. Never seen so much pus. I meant to throw it out.”
Meadow races off to find a washroom, and Carrie gives me a high five.
“Kendra!” Mitch calls from the water, where he and Calvin are bobbing in the waves. “Come on in. The water’s warm and Calvin will keep the sharks busy.”
“Later,” I call, pulling a magazine out of my beach bag. For Carrie’s benefit I add, “Like, in my next life.”
“Maybe a swim would help you relax,” Carrie says, lying back on her towel.
“What makes you think I’m not relaxed?”
“The magazine’s upside down,” she says. “You’re thinking about Dr. Ernest again, aren’t you?”
I nod. “What if America votes ‘divorce,’ and I have to emancipate from my parents?”
“You won’t let that happen,” she says.
I’m not sure how I’d be able to stop it, but I let it go for now. “Will you visit me in New York?”
“I’d love to, especially since we wouldn’t have a camera crew tailing us. Speaking of which, where’s Judy? Did you slip her a sedative?”
“Don’t give her any ideas,” Judy says. We turn to see her behind us, holding a camcorder. She unclips a walkie-talkie from her belt and speaks into it: “This is Wolf One to Little Red Riding Hood. I’ve got the lamb. What’s your twenty, Red Riding Hood?”
Chili’s fuzzy red hair emerges from a cluster of girls nearby. He lowers his camera and raises his walkie. “Stop calling me that.”
“Camera guys are so touchy,” Judy says, motioning me to move to the edge of my towel so that she can sit beside me. She pretends to be blinded by the glare off my legs. “Jeez, KB, have those sticks ever seen the sun? I hope you’ve got a little SPF going on.”
“The sun shines in New York, too, you know. I’m not an idiot.”
Judy powers off her camera. “Don’t get snippy with Judy. Especially not when she’s doing you a favor by letting you join the seal rally.”
“I can do whatever I like. It’s a free country.”
“The Black Sheep is a country unto its own,” she says.
A country with unjust legislation. They get to make up all kinds of lies about me, but if I make a single decision for myself, they threaten to sue.
Judy leans over and lifts my sunglasses. “Don’t think for a minute that you’re doing anything I don’t want you to do, KB. Even on her worst day, Judy is smarter than you are.”
She probably is smarter than I am, and worse, she has no conscience to slow her down. If Judy decides to keep me away from the rally, she’ll find a way.
After staring at me for another moment, Judy drops my glasses and says, “As it happens, I’ve decided to stay true to my journalistic integrity and let events unfold as they may.”
Virtually nothing in my life has unfolded naturally since I arrived here, thanks to Judy. “But you’re a reality show producer with a nasty boss to please,” I say.
“I was a journalist first, KB. And Terrance doesn’t scare me.”
“Then how come you’ve kept me on such a short leash this week?”
“Sometimes you’ve gotta look like you’re playing the game, kid. But Judy’s journalistic integrity will not be compromised under any…” Her voice trails off as Ted Silver walks by. Carrie and I grin at each other, but Judy is too entranced to notice. Eventually she turns back to us and asks, “Where was I?”
“Your integrity won’t be compromised,” I prompt.
“Right. Terrance has no idea what the people of America really want, because he’s been stuck behind a desk too long. I used to want his job, you know, but I’ve realized that I can do more by getting my hands dirty in the field.” She sifts a handful of sand to illustrate her point. “For some reason, ‘Joe Average’ relates to your seal cause, KB. He wants nothing more after a long day at the factory than to watch little Kendra Bishop try to fight the Establishment. It gives him hope that he can do more with his own sorry life.” She pauses to reflect for a moment. “I owe it to Joe Average to deliver on this protest, and I refuse to let Terrance Burnside derail it simply because he wants to cut deals at some stuffy old golf club.”
I prop myself on one elbow to look at her. “So what you’re saying,” I summarize, “is that the Boulder Beach execs turned down your membership application.”
Judy flings herself down on the towel in disgust. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“A body like that is wasted on a scientist, isn’t it, KB?” Judy asks, after a short sulk.
I lift my head to see Lisa, tanned and clad in a sporty bikini, heading toward the water. “Why would I care?”
“Because he does.” She points to Mitch, who has stopped roughhousing with Calvin to wave to Lisa. Picking up her camcorder, Judy zooms in on him.
“What are you talking about?” Carrie asks.
Judy takes her eye from the eyepiece. “Those two have salt water in their veins. Call me a sentimental fool, but when two people have a bond like that in common, it transcends the age difference.”
“I’ve heard that opposites attract,” Carrie counters.
“Maybe,” Judy says, getting to her feet and strolling away, “but it never works.”
Carrie and I sit up to watch Mitch and Lisa throw themselves into a big wave and bodysurf into shore. Mitch offers Lisa his hand and helps her to her feet. Her bikini clings to her perfect b
ody and they are both laughing.
“Judy’s right,” I tell Carrie. “Mitch and I have nothing in common. I can’t even talk to him. At least, not like I talk to you.” I drop back onto my towel with a sigh. “Why can’t this be easier?”
Carrie reaches for her cooler. “You know what you need? Food. And fortunately, I was baking all night.” She stares into the cooler and then roars, “Calvin!”
Calvin jogs over, followed by Mitch and Lisa. “You rang, sweet sister?”
“What did you do with my food?” Carrie asks. “The cooler’s practically empty.”
“Your food? Dad financed that and he knows I’m still growing.”
Mitch says, “Kendra and I can go and pick something up.”
Lisa chooses this moment to lift one sand-speckled hand to pluck seaweed from Mitch’s damp hair.
“That’s okay,” I say. “You guys stay. Carrie and I can take care of it.”
If he wants to frolic with an old mermaid, far be it from me to hurl the first harpoon.
Carrie and I take a booth in the crowded café and order burgers and milk shakes.
“I know what you’re doing,” she says. “You’re trying to reject Mitch before he rejects you.”
“I’m just trying to give him some space,” I say.
“He didn’t want space,” Carrie says. “He wanted a few minutes alone with you.”
“What’s the point? I’m going home soon anyway.”
“Last week you were crazy about the guy. Did I miss something?”
The waiter delivers our milk shakes, and I stir mine for a moment before confessing, “I don’t think he’s that into me, Carrie. You saw how he was with Lisa. And earlier, he said”—I lower my voice as she leans toward me—“that Judy is hot.”
I expect her to shriek in dismay, but she laughs instead. “Kendra, that’s just how guys are. Take my word for it. I have two brothers.”
“We’ve only been seeing each other a few weeks. If he’s already noticing other girls, what will happen when we’re on opposite coasts?”
“I think you’re looking for trouble,” she says. “And if you look too hard, you’ll find it, even if it isn’t really there.”
The Black Sheep Page 19
