The Black Sheep (6 page)

I head back to the Mulligan house with Bob and Chili trailing after me debating the status of my friendship with Carrie. “It doesn't matter,” I say. “My life already sucks anyway.”

My bags are packed by the time Mona finds me in the bedroom. I've decided to stand my ground back in Manhattan. If my parents haven't changed the locks, that is.

Judy tries to force entry into the bedroom, but she's no match for Mona, who's hiding more muscle under her tie-dyed tunic than I expected. Shoving a desk chair under the door handle, Mona tosses her floppy velvet hat over the camera mounted on the wall before cranking the radio to muffle our conversation. She probably learned these smooth moves during ecoterrorist operations.

Patting the bed beside her, she says, “It's just a TV show, Kendra. No one is going to take it seriously.”

I sit down beside her. “My parents will. Millions of people are going to hear me say those terrible things about them when the show airs.”

“Well, Maya's letter didn't paint the most flattering portrait of us, and I'm not fussed about it.”

She should be. According to Judy, Maya's letter said her parents are immature and uncultured.

“Most children want the opposite of what their parents have chosen—at least until they have kids of their own,” she continues. “I'm glad Maya is getting a chance to explore a different life.”

“But what if she doesn't want to come back?”

“She will. She'll miss her family.” Mona sighs before adding, “But she does seem to be enjoying herself.”

“I highly doubt that,” I say. “Judy's just twisted everything.”

“Well, I guess that's how these shows work. They can take various bits and pieces and reassemble them to tell whatever story they want to tell.”

“Aren't you worried about how you'll look?”

She shakes her head. “It is what it is. We're not ashamed.”

“
I
am. I looked like a complete loser.”

“That's not true. It was obvious that you're a clever girl.” She chooses her words carefully. “You certainly know more about art than any of us.”

“You mean I don't fit in here either.”

She puts an arm around me. “You fit in just fine. Meadow thinks you're the best thing to happen to this house since Egg hatched.”

It's only Meadow's opinion, but it makes me feel better anyway. “She does?”

“Didn't you notice that she's been styling her hair just like yours?”

I run a hand through my lank hair. “Maya's hair is way nicer.”

“Don't be so hard on yourself, dear. You just need some time to spread your wings.” She stands and beckons. “I've got just the thing to take your mind off your troubles.

“Let me guess: the aquarium?”

“Exactly.”

Does every parent on the planet suffer from a compulsive need to educate?

Mona pulls me to my feet, and the ferret erupts from my suitcase holding his bottlebrush tail aloft. My startled squeal causes Judy to pound on the door, furious over missing the drama.

“Manhattan loves you so much he wants to go home with you,” Mona says, opening the door abruptly so that Judy staggers into the room. “Isn't that sweet?”

Mona is so determined to see the glass as half full, you have to fight against seeing it that way yourself.

By the time Mona and I walk over to the aquarium, the rest of the clan has arrived by van and dispersed to their various tasks. There are so many Mulligans and friends-of-Mulligans volunteering here that Mona ought to get kickbacks.

Sensing that I could use some time alone, Mona sets me up with a video tape on otter conservation. It's a downer, as are most things educational. The species is making a slow comeback from near extinction, but one big oil slick could decimate the entire population.

I'd be totally bummed if I weren't so relieved to be officially off camera for the first time in over a week. Judy hasn't grown a conscience and decided to give me some space; otters bore the hell out of her, so she and the crew have gone in search of conflict at the oyster bar downstairs.

After the video ends, I track down Lisa's assistant, Kelly, who is sitting in front of the bank of monitors watching Otter Number 201, now known (to me, at least) as Maurice.

“He's looking a lot better today,” I say as Maurice dives, spins, and glides around in his pool.

Kelly tells me he's being held for another week of monitoring to ensure he's fit to swim, eat, and groom himself in the wild.

“Why does he circle constantly like that?” I ask.

“He's trying to find a way out,” she says. “But look at him now.” Maurice has rolled onto his back, covered his eyes with his paws, and gone to sleep. “He's gradually adapting, you see. But we don't want that to happen. He needs to keep up his fighting spirit so that he reintegrates after release.”

I guess Maurice and I actually have something in common. I can totally relate to how hard it is to keep up your fighting spirit when you're living under a microscope.

I volunteer to watch Maurice so that Kelly can get something to eat. She hands me a chart and explains how to take notes about his behavior. As she leaves, I whisper, “Don't tell Judy you saw me,” and she winks conspiratorially.

Black Sheep Rule Number Two:
Get the right people on your side
.

Maurice starts circling again and I find myself enthralled by him.

Too soon, however, Judy resurfaces. “Come on, KB,
do
something. There are no ratings in watching you watch seals.”

I keep my eyes on Maurice. “When I finish up here, I'll raid Max's liquor cabinet and take the van out for a spin.”

“Where did that attitude come from?” she asks irritably.

“It's not attitude, it's spunk. That's what you wanted, isn't it?”

“I changed my mind.”

“Then how about finding someone else's life to ruin?”

Witness Black Sheep Rule Number Three in action:
Respect only the people who respect you
. Reality television is a dog-eat-dog world.

Lisa arrives at the door flanked by her assistant and a Darth Vader–clad flunky. Judy brightens and her head twitches in Bob's direction. He immediately raises his camera.

“What is
she
doing at the monitor?” Lisa asks her assistant.

“If you mean me, I'm monitoring Maurice,” I say.

“She's not allowed to do that,” Lisa says, continuing to ignore me. “She doesn't know the procedure.”

“I know the procedure,” I say, offering my paperwork. I didn't get through fifteen years in the Banker Duplication Program without being able to handle a simple chart. All I have to do is take notes about Maurice's activities including eating, sleeping, and playing. If he is favoring the wounded paw, I describe in detail.

Lisa flips through the chart and sniffs. “Well, I'm sure you'd rather be shopping. I hear that's more your thing.”

I refer once again to Black Sheep Rule Number Three. “It's not illegal in California, is it?”

A toothy crescent appears spontaneously on Judy's face. Spunk is clearly not a problem when it's directed at someone else.

“This isn't a joke for us,” Lisa says. “We take our cause very seriously around here.”

“I've been watching Maurice for an hour—”

“And a half,” Judy supplies.

“—when I could have been at the beach. What does that tell you?”

“That you're a bored city girl in need of some meaning in her life?”

Ouch. She thinks she's so superior just because she's in graduate school. I'll have to talk to Bob about blurring her close-ups.

Darth removes his helmet to reveal Mitch.

“What's with the getup, cutie?” Judy asks him.

“It's to keep the otters from getting used to human contact,” I explain. I've done my homework.

Mitch's expression is inscrutable. “Let her watch 201,” he tells Lisa. “We need to introduce the new pup to the surrogate anyway.”

“We have rules around here,” Lisa says.

“I hear she's used to rules,” Mitch replies, his eyes lighting on me for a nanosecond.

“I'm all about rules,” I agree, although I'm not sure why I'm so eager to win this battle. Maurice is cute, but I can think of better ways of spending my time than staring at a monitor. I glance at Mitch, and his eyes dart away again. I hope I'm not becoming one of those girls who fake an interest in something just to impress a guy. That's not how a Black Sheep thinks.

Lisa gives in before I can back out. “All right,” she says, “you can watch 201. But no contact with the animals—you're under eighteen.”

“But Mitch—” I begin.

She raises her hand. “Mitch is an
exception
.”

With that, she opens the door and leads Mitch out of the room, leaving me to shake my head over the fact that I actually volunteered for two more hours at this monitor.

“Mitch is an exception, all right,” Judy says suggestively.

“What do you mean?” I ask.

Bob lowers his camera. “She's way too old for him.”

“Absolutely,” Chili agrees. “Lisa needs someone more mature. Someone with a steady job. Someone—”

“Like you?” Bob suggests, smirking.

Judy flops onto a couch and props her arms behind her head. “Mark Judy's words, people. That girl's thesis will be called
All About Mitch
.”

My neck is stiff, my fingers are cramped from writing, and my eyes sting from staring, but still I resist when Mona comes to pull me away from the monitor. “I can't go now, it's feeding time! Do you see what he's doing? He's hiding food in the pouch under his paw for later.” Who knew animals could be so fascinating? “Maurice is a genius!”

“Your genius will still be here tomorrow,” Mona says. “And you need to eat, too.”

I write “Maurice” on the front page of my report, alongside “Otter 201.” To Lisa he may be just another otter, but to me he's special. Studying him didn't even feel like homework. It felt like it mattered.

Mona nudges me, and I turn to see Bob and Judy sprawled out on the sofa behind me, sound asleep. I gesture toward the door and we sneak out. I'll be back under the microscope soon enough.

I
am in that amazing place exactly halfway between waking and sleeping, where I can actually make myself believe I am at home in New York, curled up in my queen-size bed.

“Did you know that you drool?” a voice asks.

I ignore this and focus instead on how my own comforter at home would feel.

“It's disgusting,” the voice continues. “I guess with your lip sagging like that you probably can't help it. It's like how my granddad's used to be after his stroke.”

If I count backward from a hundred, I might be able to drop off again. Ninety-nine, ninety-eight, ninety-seven…

“And you snore, too,” the voice adds. “No wonder you can't get a boyfriend.”

“Bug off, Meadow,” I say, keeping my eyes closed. There's a tickling sensation behind my ear, and I jerk my head away. “Quit it. I need to sleep.”

A tongue licks my neck, and I open my eyes instantly, only to see something red blinking at me. Sitting up so suddenly that Manhattan flies off the bed, I snatch the camcorder out of Meadow's hands.

“Hey, you ruined my shot!” she says.

“What the hell are you doing? There's already a camera on the wall, do you have to stick one in my face, too? Wait, did Judy ask you to get a close-up?” I grab her arm and give it a little twist. “Tell me.”

“Ow! Stop it.”

“I can't believe you'd invade my privacy like this.”

Meadow's face puckers. “I was just trying to get a shot of you and Manhattan. He was curled up in your hair, and it was so cute.” She sounds as if she's fighting the urge to cry. “It wasn't for Judy, it was for me—so that I can remember you when you go home.”

And the Turd of the Year Award goes to…Kendra Bishop!

I sink back on the pillow, wondering if I'll ever get the hang of having siblings. “Sorry, Meadow. When I saw the camera, I assumed Judy was behind it. You know what she's like.”

Meadow nods. “She shoved me into the wall yesterday to get a clear shot of you when you broke Mom's one-of-a-kind otter platter.”

“Another great moment of my life captured for posterity,” I say, patting the bed.

Meadow crawls in beside me. “I hated that platter anyway. The otter looked like a squirrel.” She accepts the camcorder back with a smile. “This is Mitch's, but I borrowed it to make my own home movie.”

“Does he know about that?”

She sidesteps the question. “I'm calling it
The Making of Black Sheep
. What do you think?”

“I think there are more interesting stories to tell.”

She yanks all the covers off me. “Not in my life. At least, not so far.”

The doorbell rings downstairs, and a few moments later Mona calls, “Kendra, Carrie's here to see you.”

I leap over Meadow and start pulling on my clothes.

“I thought Carrie blew you off,” she says.

I haven't heard from Carrie since the screening four days ago, but I'm not about to admit that to Meadow. “We're both busy, that's all.”

Carrie is already standing outside the bedroom door when I open it. She pushes past me into the room and closes the door behind her. “I told Judy I needed to use the bathroom,” she whispers, “so we've only got about three minutes of privacy before she comes looking.” She stares pointedly at Meadow. “Do you mind?”

Meadow directs the camcorder at her. “Yeah, I mind. I need to capture your apology to Kendra for my movie.”

I assist Meadow out of my bed and out the door. “I can take it from here.”

When she's gone, I toss a T-shirt over the camera in the corner. Carrie whispers an apology for overreacting about
The Black Sheep
footage and asks if I'm still coming to Aaron's party tonight, telling me I'll be missed if I don't.

“Reunited and it feels so good…”
someone sings tunelessly from the hall. The door bursts open to reveal Judy, shoulders squared for a showdown. She's packing a mini-DVD camera where her pistol would be. “That was all very touching, Carrie, but it's not nice to lie to Judy. Someone might get hurt.”

“Move it, KB!” Judy hollers from the Black Sheep van driving alongside my bike. She's leaning over Chili and Bob, who are filming out the open side door.

My lungs are burning and my thighs are shaking, but I force myself to step it up. “I'm going—as fast—as I can,” I pant.

We were halfway to the aquarium when Judy decided she needed some generic bike shots. She picked a couple of streets across town, and I've been riding up steep hills ever since. I assume this is a punishment for insisting on going to the aquarium this morning when we could be doing something more ratings-friendly.

Judy waves her decaf, double-shot, no-foam, extra-hot Starbucks latte in my general direction. “Judy isn't happy, KB. Last week you complained all the way over to that giant splash pool, and now I can't keep you away from there.”

“Maurice—won't be around—much longer,” I manage to get out. I want to spend time with him.” He's the closest thing to a pet I've ever had.

“If you could teach him how to talk, I'd be all for it. But it's dull, KB. You're as dull here as you were in New York.”

That's probably true, but after Maurice's release, I'll still have a few weeks to turn my life from dull to dazzling. “Well, you picked me for the show because I'm boring, remember?”

“But Judy wants to help you change all that,” she says.

Her van hits a bump, causing the latte to fly out of her hand. It hits Chili in the head and explodes all over the camera. Amid all the hysteria, no one notices I'm riding back downhill toward the aquarium.

My “pace van” catches up to me at Cannery Row. Judy has refueled at Starbucks, but her smile has disappeared.

Bob, Chili, and various other crew members hop out to capture my progress on foot, knowing that the rest of my journey is going to be a series of interruptions. These days, all the shopkeepers want my autograph or a photo—and free publicity. Apparently I am the only one (other than my parents, I presume) who hated the first episode of
The Black Sheep
. Whether I like it or not, I'm becoming a bit of a celebrity in this town.

On the upside, there are the freebies. Today's haul includes aromatherapy candles, a bag of saltwater taffy, a stack of comic books, and a magic wand that I intend to test on Judy later. Yesterday's haul featured a certificate for ten complimentary video games, a jar of Hellfire Salsa, a California flag, and a bottle of champagne that Judy immediately confiscated.

On the downside, it takes twice as long to get anywhere.

I'm almost late for my shift of monitoring Maurice, and Lisa starts in on the lecture without delay. “I expect you to be on time and act professionally,” she says.

You'd almost think there was a paycheck involved. But if I argue, it will only bring on more reminders about how it's hard work and discipline that got her into graduate school. Far be it from me to give her a chance to brag.

I grab a chart and get down to business, with Lisa hovering over my shoulder and explaining the procedure as if I'm not already a pro at it. Mitch's arrival saves me from pointing this out. He asks Lisa for help with an otter, and she takes off so fast that I feel the after-burn on my neck. Judy winks at me before pursuing them with the crew.

There's no way Lisa and Mitch are an item. Sure, he's hot, but he has a black hole where his personality should be. Plus, he's barely out of high school. Lisa would have to be really immature for her age to go for Mitch. But then, guys her own age probably get turned off by nonstop lecturing.

My time with Maurice is running out. If all goes well, Lisa expects to release him in just a few days. Even though I know that's exactly how it should be, I can't help worrying. Here, he is safe and well cared for. Out there in the big bad ocean, it's every otter for himself, and Maurice looks awfully thin. Lisa is pretty stingy with the fish, if you ask me. If she weren't so focused on Mitch, she'd notice that Maurice is hungry.

Fortunately, someone is more attentive to his needs. That would be me, his new best friend. A friend doesn't let another friend starve just because the boss is busy chasing younger men. So, at the end of my shift, I drop my report on Lisa's desk and head for the food preparation room, where people are assembling buckets of crab and mussels for the various residents.

I've watched otter feedings many times on the monitors. Lisa would have me believe that it's a mysterious, complicated ritual, but there doesn't appear to be much skill involved. Any ten-year-old could do it.

Besides, this Black Sheep no longer follows the flock unquestioningly. My new code continues to evolve. It's not just a series of rules anymore; it's a whole school of thought. Black Sheepism is simple yet edgy; scholarly yet enlightened; structured yet flexible. As a Black Sheepist, I reject the philosophies of the current regime and forge ahead with my own.

It's not easy developing your own movement, though, and as mine matures, I've had to reorder my rules on the fly. Black Sheep Rule Number One, for example, has just now become what it always should have been:
Rules are made to be broken
.

The food prep volunteers are so deep into their discussion about porifera (which sounds exotic but turns out to be the sea sponge) that they don't even notice when I help myself to a bucket of fish scraps and sneak out of the kitchen with it. My luck holds in the supply room, where I liberate a welder's mask and poncho and slip into them unnoticed.

If I'd known breaking the rules was this easy, I'd have started years ago.

Things get tougher when I arrive on the deck of Maurice's pool to find a volunteer in identical Darth Vader garb scrubbing down the tiles.

“I thought he'd already been fed,” the other Darth says.

The voice sounds too low for Lisa's and too high for Mitch's, so I bluff. “Lisa ordered an extra feeding to build up his strength before he's released.”

The volunteer nods as if this makes perfect sense, collects his or her gear, and leaves.

Who knew I was such a good actor? Maybe I belong in television after all.

I walk backward to the edge of the pool, just as I've seen Lisa do it, and Maurice starts barking excitedly behind me. Following the standard routine, I scoop a handful of slimy fish and toss it over my head. There's a series of splashes, followed by loud crunching. It would be disgusting if it weren't Maurice. As his new best friend, I'm willing to overlook bad table manners.

If Judy had any sense at all, she'd focus the whole show on my remarkable interspecies connection with Maurice. The audience would sob uncontrollably as we face the ultimate separation, but I will be strong. I understand that he has to go back. He probably has a family out there that misses him, maybe a fuzzy-faced otter wife who doesn't mind his crunching.

I have turned to gaze at my little pal when a sound makes me jump.

“What the hell are you doing?” someone says in a low hiss.

The empty bucket flies out of my hand and hits the deck with a clatter. Maurice dives to the bottom of the pool and stays there.

I fooled the first volunteer, so I'm sure I can fool the second. “Lisa ordered an extra feeding to prep him for release.” I'm impressed by the way the lies are rolling off my tongue today. Usually I babble nervously under pressure, but as a newly indoctrinated Black Sheep, I'm one slick customer.

“Oh, did I?” the new Darth says. “Why don't I remember that?”

Oops. My only hope now is that Lisa doesn't recognize my voice.

“Get in my office right now, Kendra.”

Okay, so I won't be collecting the People's Choice Award just yet.

* * *

The light of Chili's camera burns like an interrogation lamp. In the shadows behind him, Mitch is slumped in his chair. Judy, on the other hand, is perched on the edge of hers as if life at the splash pool just got a lot more interesting.

I hook my elbow casually over the back of my chair, following Black Sheep Rule Number Five:
Never let them see you sweat
.

“Why do you think you're an exception to the rules around here?” Lisa demands. She's asked the same question several times in the past ten minutes and it's taught me a valuable lesson: people can ask any question they want, and I can answer it any way I want. A Black Sheep doesn't just tell them what they want to hear; a Black Sheep stays on message.

“Like I said, Maurice looked hungry,” I repeat. “I was worried he wouldn't be strong enough for release in two days.”

“He looked hungry to your expert eye?”

“That's right.”

“And you could tell that
how
?”

“I've been watching him for days. We have a connection.”

Judy laughs. Lisa and Mitch don't.

“I really don't know what to say to that,” Lisa says.

“Okay, then,” I say, half rising. “If we're done here…”