Molly's Promise (3 page)

After school, Molly said to Murphy, “No one is even going to compete against Paige. Everyone is so sure she's going to win.”

“Talent competitions are dumb, anyway,” he said. “Who'd get up on stage in front of a bunch of judges just so they can tell you that you suck?”

“Would you go and watch?” Molly asked.

“No way,” he said and shook his head. “It would be painful. A bunch of rock star wannabes up there on the stage making fools of themselves.”

Molly slumped over and put her elbows on her knees.

After a minute, Murphy said, “What's up with you, Moll? You've been quiet all afternoon.”

“Nothing's up,” she said.

“Well, you're not saying much.”

“So what? Can't I be quiet sometimes?”

“Hey, no worries—don't bite my head off,” he said. He put up his hands as if to defend himself. “Who cares about Paige, anyway? You could beat her at soccer any day.”

“I don't want to play soccer.”

“What do you mean?” Murphy asked. “What do you want to do? Dance?” He laughed.

“No, I don't want to dance. And quit being such a jerk.”

“Then what?” he asked. “Be a rock star?” He pretended to be an announcer. “And now, put your hands together for the Amazing Mollgirl.”

“You're not funny, Murphy.” Molly couldn't speak anymore. She picked up her backpack and headed toward home.

Murphy grabbed his bag and followed.

For the first time since she had met Murphy, Molly started to cry.

“Hey,” he said. He reached a hand toward her and then yanked it back. “Hey,” he repeated.

She wiped her nose on her scarf. “Sorry,” she said.

“No worries,” he said, relieved Molly's tears had stopped.

Molly said, “I wish I had my mom.” But that wasn't what she really wanted to say.

“Yeah,” Murphy said.

“And…”

“And?” Murphy asked.

Before she had time to answer, Jeff and Albert charged out of the school's front doors.

“We have a game tomorrow,” Jeff said. “Central Avenue Cougars think they can beat us this time.”

Albert said, “They've got a new goalie from Vancouver. Some kid called Han Tihn. He hasn't been beat. I hear he's only had two goals scored on him this year.”

“I've only had four,” Murphy said, defending his record. “And one should never have been called a goal.”

Molly pushed past the boys and up the sidewalk. Let them talk about soccer—she wasn't interested.

It was a dark afternoon. Tattered, angry-looking gray clouds raced across the sky. Molly usually liked the wind. But today it was cold and hard, and it bit into her skin like puppies' sharp teeth. The only relief she got was on the straight stretch of the road where Mr. Smedley had his cabin. Giant Douglas-fir trees were lined up close to the pavement. It was calm there. Molly listened to the sound of the wind. It had a rhythm like high-pitched voices and violins. She thought of the words the voices might be singing.

Molly wanted her mom, but that wasn't the reason she had cried. It was the promise she had made to herself that was upsetting her. She knew she wasn't going to be able to keep it for long, and she wasn't going to be able to keep it a secret either. Molly felt as if something was bursting inside. Her secret was going to explode.

Chapter Five

“Hey, Moll,” her dad said when she got home.

“Hey, Dad.”

Molly went into the bathroom and splashed water on her face. After she dried off, she looked in the mirror. She knew what she wanted to say to her dad. Now she had to find the courage.

She sat at the table and said, “There's a talent show in town next month.”

Her dad took a noisy slurp of coffee.

“I want to sing at it.”

His face went pale. His brow furrowed.

“Why shouldn't I?” she asked.

“I'm just surprised,” he said. “I've never heard you sing. I mean, I didn't even know you sing.”

“I love music, Dad. You're the one who turns the radio off.”

“I like it quiet.” The look on his face became more troubled than surprised.

“I sing all the time,” Molly said. “I imagine in my head that I can sing just like the singers on my cds. I practice in the shower and walking home through the trail.”

She stopped. What she had said wasn't exactly true. She had never sung a note in her life—not out loud. “Well…I don't sing, exactly. I sing in my head,” she said. “I never sing the words out loud.”

Her dad's forehead creased again. “You sing in your head? Not with your voice?”

“Yeah,” she said, recognizing how strange it sounded.

“Why?”

“Because…” She had told him enough. “Because that's just what I've always done. But now I want to sing out loud, and I want you to listen to me.”

“Here? Now?” he said.

“Yes. Here. Now.” She knew if she thought about it for even half a second longer, she would lose her confidence. “I want to know if I'm good enough to enter the competition.”

“Don't you need music or something?”

“No. I sing without music all the time.”

“You sing without your voice all the time too.”

“
Dad
.”

“Okay, honey.”

Molly got up and stood in front of the kitchen sink. “You look more nervous than I am.”

“I might be,” he said.

The truth was, Molly was terrified. She wasn't afraid to sing. At least, she didn't think so. She was afraid to break her promise. Molly couldn't remember when she had made the promise. It was a long time ago, and it weighed on her.

Mom, I have a gift for you when you come home. I promise that you will be the first person to hear me sing.

The trouble was, her mom hadn't shown up, and Molly couldn't wait any longer. Her voice had to come out now, and that meant she was going to break her promise.

Molly straightened her back. She took a deep breath so the air went into her belly, filled her chest and came up into her throat.

But Molly's voice had never come out of her mouth or entered a room before. It had only bumped off the walls of her imagination. All of a sudden she wasn't sure whether her vocal cords could hold even one note, never mind carry a whole song.

“I'm ready, Moll,” her dad said.

A breath of air sent shivers down her legs and arms. Then she heard music. Her toe began to tap. She opened her mouth and started. “
Summertime, and the livin' is easy, fish are jumpin' and the cotton is high
…”

She kept her eyes closed and pretended her mind was her only audience. At first her voice wavered, but after a few moments, it filled the room. It grew louder and stronger until she felt as if she were going to explode. When she finished the last chorus, she opened her eyes.

Her dad was shocked. “Wow, Molly,” he said. “You can sing.”

“Are you sure?” she asked, stunned by the sounds she had made. “And do you think I'm good enough to sing in a talent show?”

“There won't be another kid in that show that can hold a candle to your talent, honey.” He pulled her onto his lap. “You sound like a pro.”

“Well, I have been singing ever since I can remember. Just not out loud.”

Her dad frowned and chuckled at the same time. “That's crazy, girl.”

Molly told him all the details about the talent show. She explained how Paige had set herself up as the one to beat. She told him she was afraid to tell anyone at school that she wanted to enter the contest. The boys would tease her. The girls would make fun of her. And Paige would make her life absolutely unbearable.

“Could I enter the contest without telling anyone? Could I just show up and sing?” she asked.

“You're tougher than that, Molly,” he said. “If you want to enter the competition, go through the front door.”

The truth was, now that Molly had sung out loud, all she wanted to do was sing some more. She didn't really want to compete—not with kids from school listening to her, especially Paige and the other girls.

“Paige might be able to dance,” he said, “but you are a star. There is no doubt about that.”

Molly climbed off his lap. “Thanks, Dad.”

Later, as she lay in bed, Molly replayed her singing over and over in her mind. She loved how her voice had filled the room. If only her mom had heard her.

Molly had broken her promise. She had given her mom's gift away.

“Mom, I am so sorry. I couldn't keep my voice inside any longer. It just had to come out.”

She said sorry over and over again, hoping her mom would forgive her.

As Molly fell asleep, she heard Billie Holiday singing “Summertime.” Although she had been dead for seventy years, Billie's voice pulsed through Molly's body.

In the morning, Molly made a new promise.

“When you come home, Mom, I will sing just for you,” Molly said. “It will be just you and me.”

Her second promise didn't feel exactly right, but it was the best she could think of. Her voice had always been her gift to her mom. It still was. Now if only her mom would come home and get it. One day, Molly thought, my mom will come home and ask, “What is your big surprise, Molly? Where's the present you promised me?”

Molly would take a deep breath and sing. Her mom would be amazed. “Molly,” she would say, “I had no idea. What a wonderful gift. Thank you so much for sharing it with me.”

Molly felt a little better after she had made the new promise.

The trouble was, now Molly didn't know what to do about the competition. One minute she wanted to enter, and the next minute she didn't.

When she got out of bed, she found an envelope on the kitchen table. On the front it said,
Here's the registration fee. Go for it, Molly. You can do it. I love you, Dad
.

Chapter Six

Molly was dozing off during the morning announcements until Ms. Clarkson, the principal, said, “Forms for the Central Valley Youth Talent Competition will be available in the office during lunch hour. We need your fee and your form, fully completed. Don't dally. The competition is just weeks away.”

It was raining hard at lunchtime. Murphy was in the gym with the rest of the team, practicing for the game after school. Molly sat on the bleachers watching— and thinking about whether to pick up a registration form. A crowd of grade-eight girls stood nearby.

“Darcie's going to tap-dance,” said a blond girl with a purple, feathered hair band.

“Paige is in my dance studio,” another girl said.

“She's pretty good.” “She thinks she's going to win,” said a girl with heavy eye makeup. “Have you seen her? She struts around like somebody crowned her the Queen of Talent.”

“She is soooo conceited,” the blond girl said. “But what about Devon? That guy can sing AND play guitar. He's a star, baby. The next Mr. Bieber. What do you think, girls? Let's put it together for our very own Devon Dempster.”