Molly's Promise (6 page)

“Yes, you do,” Murphy said. “You need an audience to practice in front of.” He turned to the others. “Billie Holiday might be dead, but she's still famous. She started singing when she was a teenager. She never had any professional training. The songs she sang are perfect for Molly's voice.”

Molly looked at Murphy in amazement. “How do you know so much about Billie Holiday?” she asked.

“I Googled her,” he said. “Mom and I watched as many of her YouTube videos as we could.”

“You got your mom involved?” Molly asked.

“Mom said she'd be your costume designer,” Murphy said. “And by the way, Moll, I didn't promise I wouldn't tell anyone. You asked me not to tell— that's different.”

“Thank your mom for me,” Molly said. “But I don't need a new outfit.”

“Oh no, you don't need nothing—no practice, no costume, no help—'cause you are soooo good,” Danny said.

Albert told Danny to shut up, but then he said, “Danno's right, Molly. How do you expect to win if you won't let anyone help you?”

“I don't care if I win,” she said. “I just want to sing for people.”

“That's not good enough,” Murphy said. “You are a great singer. It's a cop-out to say you don't care about winning.”

Murphy usually had a way of setting Molly straight without getting her angry. This time it didn't work.

“It's not a cop-out,” she said. “You don't understand.”

Murphy and the boys shrugged their shoulders.

“Don't ask me what she's thinking,” Murphy said.

“I told you she's crazy,” Danny said.

Maybe I am crazy, Molly thought, if I want to sing but I don't want anyone to hear me. Why am I entering the competition? Why did I break my promise to my mom? It was better when I sang to myself.

Chapter Nine

“Good wonderful morning, Riverside,” Ms. Clarkson said. “Fourteen talented Riverside students have entered the Valley Talent Competition. Way to go. Clarissa Eng, a dance teacher from Vancouver, will be in the multipurpose room at lunch today. She will talk about how to make the best of your performance. All the contestants and their managers are invited to attend. Bring your lunch and listen up.”

Murphy gave Molly a thumbs-up from two desks in front of her. She frowned, shook her head and mouthed the words, “I don't want to go.”

She imagined Paige and her friends hogging Clarissa Eng's attention. And besides, Molly couldn't think of one thing a dancer would know about singing.

Paige can win, for all I care, Molly said to herself. But the truth was, Molly hated the thought of Paige winning. She hated looking at Paige's fake smile. The only thing she would hate more would be Paige's real smile if she won the contest.

After the announcements, Murphy said, “It's just what we need.”

“It might be what
you
need, Mr. Manager. I just want to sing,” Molly said.

“You listen to your manager, Amazing Mollgirl. You aren't just going to sing—you're going to win.”

Molly knew Murphy didn't understand. She wasn't amazing, and she didn't need to win. She needed to sing. Her voice had been trapped for too long. It felt so wonderful to let it out. But Murphy was her best friend, and he wanted to help. So she needed to let him.

“Okay, okay, okay,” Molly said reluctantly. “I'll try and win the competition.”

Some things you do for yourself, some things you do for your friends, and that's all right, Molly thought.

As soon as the lunch bell rang, Murphy flew out of math class with Molly chasing him.

“Hold up, you two,” Ms. Clarkson said.

They skidded to a stop.

“You must be excited, Molly,” she said. “I heard you are quite the singer.”

“You're right,” Murphy said, keeping his distance from Molly's fist, which she had clenched. “Molly sings like a star.”

“I can't wait to hear her,” the principal said. “But slow down in the hall.”

“I can't wait to give you a beating,” Molly said to Murphy as they continued down the hall. “How does she know how I sing?”

Murphy stopped outside the multipurpose room to let some other students through the door in front of him.

He gave her an official look. “Molly,” he said, “if I am going to be your manager, you have to be manageable. And right now you, girl, are impossible.”

Molly wasn't sure if Murphy was actually angry or playing manager.

“You signed up for this thing, not me,” he said. “I'm going to help you. But when are you going to get it through your thick head that you are in a contest? There's going to be an audience. People are going to hear you. They are going to talk about you. When people hear you sing, they are not going to believe a voice like that came from a kid like you. You are going to win.”

“What are we waiting for then, Mr. Manager?” she said with as much determination as she could muster. She led him to the front row. Albert and Jeff sat behind them and Danny plunked himself down next to Molly.

When Clarissa began to speak, Murphy pulled out a notepad and jotted down her suggestions.

“Are you kidding, Murph? You're writing notes?” Paige called from a few seats away.

“I'm her manager and we're going to win,” said Murphy. Paige giggled. “I want you for my manager.”

“Sorry,” he said. “I've got a client.”

After Clarissa had finished, the boys and Molly huddled around Murphy. He held his notepad up. “I've got some good stuff.”

Jeff said, “Okay, team, let's listen to the coach.”

“Since when did this become a team?” Molly asked.

“Since now,” Danny said. “If you're going to do it, you better win. You've got one chance to take this game.”

“This isn't soccer,” Molly said. “You guys don't get it. All I'm going to do is sing, once—that's it.”

“That's all you're going to do—sing,” Murphy said. “But it's a competition, and that's the part we know about. And when you compete for something, you compete to win.”

“WINNING ISN'T EVERYTHING. WINNING IS THE ONLY THING!” the boys shouted.

Albert nodded. “That's why we're a team, Moll,” he said. “You aren't singing in your head anymore. You're singing for judges.”

“Listen,” Murphy said, and he shook his notepad as if to call order. “Here's what you need to do. Number one, remember your audience and forget about them at the same time. You are there to entertain, and the audience will help you do that.”

Murphy continued reading from his list. “Number two, enjoy yourself—at least,
look
like you're enjoying yourself. Number three, treat the microphone as if it's your best friend. Number four, every once in a while take a look at your manager—that's me. He'll give you confidence.” Murphy laughed. “Number five, remember you are performing mostly with your face. Your face will win or lose it for you.”

“My face,” Molly said. “Are you kidding?”

“Really. It's your face that communicates with the audience and the judges.” Murphy shook the notepad again. “I'm not finished.”

By the time Murphy got to number seven, Paige and the girls, plus several other competitors, were crowded around him, listening. “Practice, practice, practice, until you know your piece so well you don't have to think about it.”

“Is that all?” Molly asked. “Are you sure there aren't a hundred other things I need to remember?”

“Yeah, there's one more thing,” he said. “Play to win.”

“Murphy!” Molly shook her head. “Stop all the pressure.”

“Clarissa said the performer who is the most convincing is going to win. That's a quote,” he said. “You will convince everyone you should win because you love to sing, Mollgirl.”

Paige said, “I think you have the wrong client.”

Dede and Fi started to laugh. “There's no contest,” said Fi. “Did you hear what else Clarissa said? Style? Confidence? Skill? Doesn't sound like Molly to me.”

“Does to me,” Murphy said.

Paige smiled. “Well, good luck with that, Murph. But if you want a winning client, you know my number.”

“You need more than a manager,
Plague
,” Danny said. “If you think you can beat Molly, you are in for a big surprise.”

Before Paige could argue, Clarissa said, “Hey, come on, kids. Don't ruin the competition.”

“Then tell Paige to shut up,” Danny said as Paige pasted a big fake smile on her face. “She's the one slagging our team.”

“We're just kidding, Danny,” Paige said in a syrupy voice. She turned to Clarissa. “Clarissa, thank you so much for your help. Are you one of the judges?”

“The judges are listed on the poster,” Murphy said.

When Clarissa walked out the door, Danny said, “It couldn't be any more obvious that you're just kissing butt.”

Paige ignored him. “Molly should stick to soccer,” she said. “I hear she can run and kick better than some guys around here. Or maybe Molly
is
one of the boys?” She tossed her head, and her ponytail swayed as she sashayed into the hall with the other girls shuffling behind her.

“You gotta beat that girl, Molly,” Danny said.

When Molly got to the field after school, Paige, Dede and Fi were standing on the sidelines beside Albert. It was the last game of the regular season, with the Strikers playing the Searchlight Middle School Stars.

Ten minutes in, the referee called a penalty on the Stars' wingman. Free shot. The Strikers huddled for a few seconds before Jeff emerged and picked up the ball.

A Stars defenseman laughed out loud. “No worries,” he shouted. “FN boys can't kick.”

“First Nations boys can kick your butt,” Danny said.

“That's enough,” the referee warned, pointing his finger at the Stars player.

Jeff set the ball in its place, looked at the goalie, wound up and drove the ball high and over the left side of the goalpost.

“No worries, guys,” Murphy shouted from halfway down the field. “Keep the pressure on.”

Murphy had his eye on the ball. He looked at the field, at all the players, then back at the ball. He never lost his concentration, not for a second. He shifted from leg to leg and bounced on the balls of his feet. He slapped his hands on his arms. He was ready. All the time.

Molly threw her backpack down and sat on it. By the second half, it was a kick and chase game.

Riverside scored near the end of the game, but no one knew for sure who had made the goal. It wasn't until Jeff high-fived Avtar that the other players gave him a nod. When the whistle blew, the final score was 1-0 Strikers.

“Way to go,” Paige squealed as she ran up to Murphy. “Good game.”

“No, it wasn't,” he said.

“But you won,” she said. She stood in the middle of the boys as they picked up their gear. “And winning isn't everything—it's the only thing. Right, Murphy?” She turned to Albert. “With coaches like you guys, I'd be a winner for sure.”