The Black Sheep (17 page)

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 body 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.”

Oh, it's there, I'm sure of it. It's just a matter of time before it surfaces.

Carrie reaches over, grabs both my hands, and says, “Listen to me: he likes you. Do not—I repeat—do not vote yourself off the island.”

The door opens and Jordan walks into the café with Aaron, Tia, and several other Team 14 members joining us for the overnight campout.

“Hey,” Aaron says, noticing that Carrie is still holding my hands. “Girl-on-girl action. All we need now are the cameras.”

“You missed your chance,” I say. “The crew's on lunch.”

He looks momentarily disappointed and then brightens again. “Hey, is Kelly Ripa as hot in person as she is on TV?”

Carrie raises her eyebrows at me and says, “See what I mean?”

Tia leads the others to a free table, but Jordan hangs back and slides into our booth across from me, pinning Carrie to the wall. “How's it going?” he asks me. “I saw how upset you were on
Dr. Ernest
.”

I nod. “It was a bit of a shock to see my parents, but—”

“Do you want to go drinking some time?” he interrupts. “I've got a couple of fake ID's.”

“I don't think so, but thanks.”

“Come on,” he says. “How many times do I have to say I'm sorry before you'll go out with me?”

“You can't count that high,” Carrie says.

Jordan turns to Carrie as if noticing her for the first time and says, “She'll come around.” He looks back at me. “Am I right?”

“Nope.” I shake my head. “Sorry.”

Jordan appears to be stunned, but recovers in time to take a parting shot as he leaves the booth. “Aaron must have been right about you two.”

Before Carrie and I have a chance to make fun of him, I hear a voice I've quickly grown to loathe, saying, “How does this make you feel, Dad?”

There's a small television over the bar showing
Dr. Ernest
. The shot widens out to reveal that the dad in question is my own, and he's hugging a life-size, inflatable doll. Looking up at Dr. Ernest, he answers, “Foolish, Ernest.”

“It'll get easier,” Dr. Ernest says. “Hugging is a natural expression of affection.”

Carrie reaches over to pat my arm, but my eyes are glued to the screen.

“Now,” Dr. Ernest continues, “I wasn't surprised to hear y'all grew up as only children in emotionally distant families. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree.”

That's the first I've heard anything negative about their families.

“And I understand you were dirt poor, as well,” Ernest says. “No wonder you're obsessed with financial security.”

Is this some kind of desperate bid to gain public sympathy? Did my parents hire a spin doctor? If so, neither one looks very happy about it. My mother is standing beside Dad, wearing a grimace of shame.

“Growing up without emotional or financial security is tough,” Dr. Ernest says, “and you're obviously trying to make up for some of that with your daughter. But you're going to have to give her some space to grow, and for God's sake, show her the love. Even if you never experienced affection as children, you're going to need to show some to Kendra.” He passes the inflatable doll to my mother. “Mom, why don't you have a go?”

My stomach gives the milk shake inside a good spin. This exercise must be killing my parents.

“Woo-hoo!” Aaron yells, as my mother gathers the rubber doll in her arms. “Like mother like daughter!”

“Now what do you say?” Dr. Ernest asks. My mother looks at him with pleading eyes. “Go on, Mom. Pretend this is your daughter. What do you say?”

“I love you,” my mother croaks.

“I can't hear you,” Ernest says, cupping big hand around his ear. “Why don't you help her out, Dad?”

Together, Mom and Dad mumble “I love you” to the rubber doll.

Aaron whistles and stomps his foot on the wooden floor.

I look at Carrie. “I have to call them. I have to tell them they don't have to do this.”

* * *

Mitch catches up with me at the drugstore, where I'm buying a long-distance calling card. “Carrie told me what happened,” he says.

I rush past him into the street. “I've got to find a pay phone,” I say.

Passing a sidewalk café, we see Judy having coffee with Ted. She takes one look at me and raises her walkie-talkie. “Wolf Two, get over here, stat. The lamb's on the run at Ocean and Casanova.” She abandons Ted and starts after us.

Taking this as my cue, I start running. Mitch keeps pace, but Judy soon falls behind because of her flip-flops.

After a couple of blocks, Mitch grabs my arm and forces me to stop. “Use Calvin's cell phone,” he says, pressing it into my hand. “Let me cover for you.”

I slip the phone into my purse just as Judy runs up to us with Bob. “What's going on?” she demands.

“It's Maurice,” Mitch adlibs. “I think he's been reinjured. Lisa's renting a boat and we're going to try to recapture him. Kendra, you get the binoculars from the van, and Bob and I will head back to get some footage.” He walks away, beckoning Bob.

Judy hesitates. “You look upset, KB.”

I take a deep breath and pull myself together. “Of course I'm upset. It's Maurice.”

“Coming, Judy?” Mitch calls.

She shakes her head and starts back to the café. “My latte's getting cold. It's just a seal, KB. Get over it, already.”

When she turns the corner, I duck into an alley and dial my father's cell phone number. It's not Dad who answers, but Maya. Attempting to disguise my voice, I ask, “Ees Meester or Meesus Beeship in,
por favor
?”

“Oh, hi, Kendra,” Maya says. “I sent your parents out for a run. After boot camp, they needed it, poor things. So, adios, amigo. I won't bother to tell them you called.”

She hangs up before I can say another word. I hit redial, but before the call goes through, Judy grabs the phone out of my hands.

“I'm disappointed in you, KB,” she says. “Judy's been so supportive of your little protest, and this is the thanks she gets? Don't expect a mention when I win the Realie Award for best show on the network.”

I try to wrestle the cell phone from her, but she holds it behind her with one hand and biffs me with her sun hat.

I stop fighting to glare at her, breathing heavily. “Don't you dare make this sound like you're doing me a favor,” I say. “The only reason you're not telling Terrance about the protest is because you want to get him kicked out of the golf club. And you also want those advertisers to pull out so that he loses his job.”

“Sshhh, KB,” she says soothingly. “You're overwrought.”

I may be overwrought, but I notice she isn't denying it. “You'll do whatever it takes to bring in good ratings, and you don't care who you hurt in the process,” I say. “But I won't let you sacrifice my family for your career, Judy Greenberg.” Turning, I see that Bob has returned with his camcorder. “Are you getting this, Wolf Two?”

The camera nods.

“Good. Because the day after tomorrow, I am going home,” I say. “My parents and I may have some things to sort out, but that's none of America's business. I am not divorcing them, and I am not putting them through any more of that horrible boot camp. Find yourself another sucker, Judy.”

T
he full moon makes the white sand glitter underfoot as we trudge along the beach toward the golf course. I'm not thrilled about being out here in the wilderness, but at least the light from the moon means we won't lose any of our supporters along the way—especially the two grannies hobbling beside me. Somehow I never envisioned seniors supporting the cause, but a love of otters apparently knows no bounds.

There is a long line of shadowy figures ahead of us, lumpy with backpacks and rolled-up sleeping bags. Yet any sound the procession makes is swallowed by the gentle crash of waves on sand. Even Meadow is silent for once.

Mitch is leading the group. It wouldn't bother me that he stuck me with the kid and took off, were it not for the fact that Lisa is currently nowhere to be seen. I bet she is marching by his side, pretending to be Queen of the Rally. Last time I checked, that crown belonged to me—and so did the King.

I give myself a mental shake. Why am I always looking for a fight with Mitch? Just this afternoon he tried to help me evade Judy so I could call my parents. It was a very romantic gesture, even though it failed. Carrie is right that I'm looking for trouble, but I can't seem to help myself. It's like I have to turn everything into a test, just as my parents do.

Tonight will be different. It has to be, because it could be our last night together. If I make good on my threat to go home after the protest, I may never see Mitch again. Sure, we'll instant message, text message, e-mail, and call now and then, but it won't be enough, and Mitch is too hot to stay single for long. If it isn't Lisa, it will be someone else. Meanwhile, I'll go back to my girls' school and never meet another guy until college—and that's only if my parents unlock the prison door to let me pursue a higher education.

I am going to get things on the right track with Mitch tonight even if I have to take the initiative. There's already one thing working in my favor: no crew. At this very moment, Judy is having dinner with Ted Silver at Carmel's swankiest restaurant. It wasn't his idea, but she doesn't know that. This afternoon, I went to the restaurant and charged a hefty gift certificate to Mom's credit card. I presented it to Ted as a thank-you for his help with Team 14 and suggested he use it with Judy tonight. She's so hot for Ted that she jumped at the offer, even though Ted invited Bob and Chili along. Maybe he has better taste than I gave him credit for.

At any rate, Judy isn't here barking orders into a walkie-talkie, chasing us with cameras and bright lights, and generally making a commotion that could attract the attention of Boulder Beach security and the local police.

We leave the beach and clamber up a hill onto the course, where more than a hundred people are already milling around. It's a huge turnout, and it makes me feel good to know that I contributed to bringing everyone together. And as much as I hated the idea of camping, I'm excited to be out here trespassing on private property under a starry sky. I have never felt so alive. Especially because my sunburn is so hot my T-shirt is about to detonate.

Leaving Meadow with Carrie, I set off in search of Mitch, eventually finding him near the cliff, setting up a small tent. He hammers in the last stake and turns to me.

“I trust the lady will find this evening's accommodation satisfactory?” he asks, smiling.

“This is my tent?” I ask.

“
Our
tent,” he corrects me.

Ours? Well, this I didn't expect.

Mitch holds back the flap for me to enter. “Check it out.”

I climb into the tent, and my romantic illusions evaporate with a pop. There are three sleeping bags, one of which is pink and covered with images of Barbie.

When I tell the story back home, I will definitely edit Meadow out of it.

“It's not five-star, but the view is amazing,” he says, gesturing to the moon that is seemingly floating just off shore.

“It's great,” I say, lowering myself warily onto the middle sleeping bag. “Can spiders chew through canvas?”

Mitch sits down beside me. “Not a problem: they couldn't get a club membership.”

I giggle nervously. “Ants?”

“The anteater just left.”

“Snakes? Bats?”

“This tent is the deluxe pest-proof model. You're perfectly safe.”

Maybe so, but I probably won't sleep a wink. Even if I could ignore land and airborne hazards, there's a rock the size of my fist digging into me. I won't complain, however, because I am a supportive girlfriend. If Mitch likes outdoors-women, I can rough it. A Black Sheep is low maintenance.

“Air mattresses are available,” Mitch says, setting the flashlight down beside him. “But you'll have to blow up your own. I'm saving my lips for better things.”

I scan the tent for multilegged adversaries and turn back to face Mitch. Remembering my vow to take the initiative, I lean over and kiss him.

He pulls away, saying, “I'm getting a second-degree burn from the heat off your face.”

“I put sunscreen on this morning. And before you say it, no, I did not reapply, and yes, I now realize how stupid that was. If it makes you feel better, I'm in pain.”

“It doesn't make me feel better, but it does explain why you whimpered as you sat down.”

“The backs of my knees are the worst,” I say. “It's hard to bend.”

He takes a first-aid kit out of his backpack. “Doctor Mitch to the rescue.”

I watch suspiciously as he opens a small plastic container. “What is it?”

“An old Mulligan family secret,” he says. “Roll over.”

“I don't think so—it's going to hurt.”

“Look, if you can't trust your own boyfriend, who can you trust?”

At the sound of the magic B-word, I obediently roll onto my stomach and Mitch spreads a deliciously cool substance on the back of my knees. I can almost hear the sizzle.

“Aloe gel,” Mitch says. “Squeezed from the plant with my own hands—just for you.”

“Is that a pickup line?”

“Sure,” he says, continuing to skim the gel over my calf. “Is it working?”

It's definitely working, but I don't plan to admit it just yet. “I'll get back to you on that.”

“Dad thinks aloe is the natural wonder drug. We never go camping without it.”

I'm more interested in Mitch's touch on my leg than I am in the healing properties of aloe. When he stops, I turn to face him, disappointed. “Done, Doctor Mitch?”

“Just getting started,” he says, pulling another container from the first-aid kit. “Witch hazel.” He soaks a cotton ball in the liquid and dabs it lightly all over my face. As it dries, my face feels cooler. “Better?”

“Better.”

He picks up the aloe again and strokes it onto my face with his index finger.

“That stuff isn't green, is it?” I ask.

He smiles. “You'll never know—unless there's a mirror in your backpack, which I highly doubt.”

Then he doesn't know me as well as he thinks he does. There is a mirror, and I'll be using it at sunrise. Roughing it is fine, but why risk scaring off a boyfriend so early in the relationship?

Mitch stares at me intently as he runs the aloe along my jawline. If this is supposed to be clinical, it
so
isn't. There's a chill running down my back.

“You're really good at this,” I say, just to say something. “Maybe you should forget about saving wildlife and become a doctor.”

“But I like animals better than people,” he says, sweeping aloe along my nose. “Except for you.”

This is the kind of talk I had hoped to hear tonight, and I kiss him again to encourage him to say more.

“Ouch,” he says, drawing back. “Splinters.”

Okay, not romantic.

He bites the end off a vitamin E capsule, squeezes the oil onto a cotton swab, and runs it over my chapped lips. “Try it again,” he says, and I kiss him once more. “Nice,” he pronounces, lying down beside me and pulling me close.

It's amazing how much more a boyfriend feels like a boyfriend when you're horizontal—even if there's only a thin layer of canvas separating you from a hundred people.

This time Mitch takes the initiative, and his lips seem to melt into mine until I can't quite figure out where he stops and I begin. I feel like a sea nettle, cast adrift in a timeless, weightless universe. The thought makes my eyes open in search of the familiar backdrop of jellyfish.

What I see freezes my blood in its veins: the red eye of a camera at the mesh window of the tent.

Mitch pulls away. “What is it?”

Sitting up, I point soundlessly.

He lunges instantly for the door flap and hauls the perpetrator into the tent in one swift motion. There's a high-pitched squeal as he pushes someone onto his sleeping bag beside me.

“Jump on her,” he says.

I pin Meadow to the sleeping bag before she can bolt.

“I'm sorry,” she squeaks.

“Sorry for what?” Mitch demands. “Sorry for spying, or sorry you got caught?”

Meadow looks to me for support, but I'm just as mad as he is. “What are you doing with that camera?”

“I told you about my movie—
The Making of
Black Sheep. I sort of forgot about it, but now I want to finish it before you go home. How was I to know you'd be in here making out?”

“We weren't making out,” I say. “Mitch was treating my sunburn.”

She smirks. “Right, he was kissing it better.” She turns to him. “You were totally making out.”

Mitch's lip twitches. “We were totally making out,” he confirms. “So why didn't you turn off the camera when you realized that?”

“I was surprised, I guess,” she says, staring up at him. “Hey Mitch, if you marry Kendra, she'll be my sister for real.”

“Don't be stupid,” he snaps. “We are not getting married!”

It's not like I've ever seriously considered marrying him, but hearing him reject the idea as if it's the dumbest thing he's ever heard hurts more than my sunburn. I let go of Meadow and sit back with a sigh.

Meadow looks hopefully at me. “Come on. I could be your bridesmaid.”

I change the subject quickly. “Meadow, you've got to promise not to say anything about what you saw. Judy would make our lives a living hell.”

Max and Mona probably wouldn't be impressed either. I've noticed that they're more liberal when it comes to the rest of the world than they are with their own kids. I wouldn't want them to think we've been messing around under their roof, especially when they've been so kind to me.

Mitch gives his sister's shoulder a little shake. “Promise, Meadow.”

She raises a hand and solemnly swears that our secret is safe.

“What secret?” Carrie asks, appearing at the door of the tent. Meadow looks so guilty that Carrie laughs. “It's okay, Meadow, I don't even want to know. I'm just here to report a miracle: Calvin the tech nerd actually managed to get a bonfire going.”

“Where were you?” Lisa asks Mitch when we join everyone by the fire. “I've been looking all over for you.”

Mitch takes her aside to offer an explanation. I'd try to eavesdrop, but unfortunately Tia has chosen the same moment to tell Carrie and me about her day in town. I can only catch snippets of Lisa's comments when Tia pauses to breathe, but what I hear alarms me: “too much time with Kendra” and then “you promised” and finally “—share a tent.”

Did Mitch promise to share a tent with her tonight? Was the aloe intended for her perfect, tanned body? Does he see
her
as bride material?

“Kendra, did you hear me?” Tia demands. “Jordan asked me to share a tent with him tonight!”

“He did?”

“Don't sound so shocked,” Tia says.

“I'm not, it's just that…I thought he liked someone else.” My femme fatale status sure didn't last long.

She tosses her head. “So what if he did? He likes me now.”

“Be careful, Tia,” Carrie says. “The guy's a player.”

Tia flounces off. “You're just jealous because you're bunking with your brother, Carrie Watson.”

Carrie sighs. “Some girls won't believe a guy's a jerk until they experience it first hand.”

I glance at Mitch and Lisa. “Is that a hint?”

Carrie follows my gaze. “Of course not. They're talking otters over there.” I fill Carrie in on the fragments I overheard, but she doesn't buy it. “You're letting Judy poison your mind,” she says. “If you'd just talk to Mitch, you'd know that.”

“I've been trying, but we keep getting interrupted.”

“Then why don't you let me take Meadow to my tent tonight? I'll promise her a makeover or something.”

It's a tempting offer. If Mitch and I spent six hours alone in a small tent, I could work up to telling him how I feel about him. And yet, if I'm not already sure where I stand, should I really be spending the night alone with Mitch and his magic first-aid kit?