Molly's Promise (5 page)

“Sing,” she said, surprising herself with her confidence. She didn't notice Fi and Dede sitting in the hall.

The girls burst into laughter. “Sing?” Dede said.

Fi clasped her hands over her ears. “Will we have to listen?” she asked.

“No, you don't have to listen. But you do have to be respectful, and that was rude,” the secretary said.

Fi whispered something in Dede's ear, and the two of them burst into laughter again.

Molly took the form and shot out the door. Part of her wanted to tear it up and never think about the competition again. But part of her wanted to show the girls that she
could
sing. Still another part of her wanted to hear her voice in the huge auditorium at the community center. Then she thought about her mom and felt a twinge of guilt. Even though she had made another promise, Molly still worried about singing in front of a crowd before she sang for her mom. It didn't feel right.

Molly was in such a muddle that she almost ran into Murphy in the hallway. She hid the form behind her back. “Where did you come from?” she asked.

“What do you mean? I've been looking for you.” He peered around her shoulder. “What are you hiding?”

“Nothing,” Molly said. “Just a form from the office.”

“What form?” he asked.

“I'll tell you if you promise not to tell the other boys.”

Murphy looked confused.

Molly knew that having a boy as a best friend had its problems. Murphy didn't understand secrets. He and the boys didn't have any rules about what they said to each other.

“It's a registration form for the talent contest,” she said.

“It's a what?” Murphy asked.

“You heard me,” Molly said, holding the form in the air as Murphy grabbed for it.

“What are you going to do?” he asked.

“Never mind.” She stomped into the cafeteria.

Murphy followed her. He peered over her shoulder as she filled in her name, age and address. Under the heading
Talent
, she wrote, “
SINGING
.”

“Singing!” Murphy said. His eyes bulged like someone had pinched him. “You are going to get up onstage in front of a ton of people and sing?”

Molly turned her back so he couldn't see what she was writing. “What's wrong with that?” she asked.

“What's wrong with that? You don't know how to sing.”

“How do you know?”

“I know 'cause you've never said a word about singing. And you talk about everything.”

“I don't know if I'm any good,” Molly said, “but I've been singing my whole life. I've just never let the sounds come out of my mouth.” She pulled out the twenty-five dollars, grabbed her completed form and stood up. “Come on. Let's drop this in the office,” she said.

“I can't believe it,” Murphy said. “I thought I was your best friend. And I thought girls told their best friends everything.”

“You don't know anything about girls,” Molly said in a huff.

“Hold on a minute,” Murphy said. “Did you just say you sing but you never open your mouth?”

“Yeah,” she said, walking away. “That's what I said.”

“How do you do that?” he asked.

“I listen to myself in my head,” she said.

“You listen to yourself sing, but you don't make a sound?” He looked at her like she was out of her mind. “Why do you do that?”

“Because…” She paused. She knew she'd never be able to explain her secret promise. “Because that's just what I do.”

“So because you sing in your head, silently, you think you can sing in a talent competition?” Murphy asked.

“Yeah. I mean, no. I mean, I'm not sure.”

Murphy said, “You are crazy, Moll.”

“Yeah. I know.”

Molly sat down on a bench in the hall. Murphy's reaction was only half as bad as the other boys' would be. She didn't even want to think about what they would say.

“Okay,” he said as he dropped onto the bench beside her. “Fill me in. What are you talking about?”

Molly told him how she had sung for her dad and that it was the first time she had ever heard her own singing voice. She told him how her dad had been shocked and had left twenty-five dollars for her on the table the next morning.

“Have you been practicing with him?” Murphy asked.

“No,” Molly said. “He doesn't like music.”

“How are you going to win a competition if you don't practice?” Murphy asked. “If you have never sung for anyone? That doesn't make sense. Music in your head doesn't mean you can sing.”

“Yes, it does. You don't understand.”

“You're right,” Murphy said, folding his arms across his chest. “I don't understand.”

“Then come over after school, and I'll sing for you. If you think I suck, I won't sing in the competition.”

“Murphy, my man.” Paige sauntered up the hall with her friends. She flipped her ponytail with her fingers and said, “Did you know your Molly girl is a singer? She thinks she's the next Selena Gomez.”

Fi said, “Is she trying to recruit you to be her talent manager? As if she has any talent.” She sat herself down on Murphy's knee and flirted. “I'd like you to be my talent manager.”

Murphy stood up, almost toppling Fi to the floor. He turned toward Paige and said, “Yeah. Molly's a singer, and I'm her manager. Look out, Selena— Molly is about to arrive.”

Paige glared at Molly and then batted her eyes at Murphy.

“Well,” she said with a sappy smile. “Tell your friend she's got some serious competition.” Her smile turned to a sneer. “She's gonna be laughed off the stage.”

Murphy said, “No one will be laughing Molly off the stage. You heard that first from me.”

Paige's face turned bright pink. She gave a fake giggle and then she and her friends moved on.

“Holy cow,” Murphy said. “You better know how to sing or I just buried myself.”

“Thanks, Murph,” Molly said.

“Come on,” he said. “We've got work to do. First of all, we better leave that form in the office. Then I better figure out how to be a talent manager.”

“Don't worry about it, Murph,” Molly said, setting the paper on the counter. “You don't have to do anything for me.”

“Yeah, I do,” he said. “This is a competition.”

The secretary said, “Good luck, Molly.”

“Thanks,” Molly and Murphy said together.

In the computer lab, Murphy Googled “talent manager.” He scanned website pages. “Okay, so I'm supposed to deal with promotions, photography, how much you get paid, performances. As well as the business of singing, lessons, practices and… your image.”

“You better quit now, Murph,” Molly laughed. “Now you're the one acting crazy.”

“I'm serious. It says lots of talented people never get heard because they don't have good management. It says good management is as important as good talent.” Then he paused and added, “Well, almost.”

Molly shrugged and said, “You don't even know if I can sing.”

Chapter Eight

After school, Murphy and Molly walked home together.

“I'll text Mom and see if she can pick me up from your place later,” he said.

“Thanks,” she said. “For sticking up for me.”

“I didn't have much choice,” he said. “Now we have to deliver.”

“You don't have much faith in me, do you?” she said.

“It's not about faith. It's about getting up in front of tons of people and singing.”

After Molly had eaten a bowl of Cheerios, and Murphy had eaten two, they went into the living room.

“I'll put on the music,” Murphy said.

“I don't use music,” she said.

Murphy sat down on the sofa and scrunched a pillow on his lap. He looked afraid—as if someone was going to give him some very bad news.

“Calm down. This won't hurt,” she said. But her stomach felt as if someone had stuck a knife in it. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Murphy disappeared. Her foot began to tap, and she started to sing.

Summertime, and the livin
'
is easy
Fish are jumpin
'
and the cotton is high…

When she had finished the song, she opened her eyes. Murphy was staring at her as if he had seen something supernatural.

Molly's heart pounded against her ribs. She waited for his assessment. “So?” she asked. “What do you think?”

“Where did that music come from?”

She put her hands on her chest and said, “It's in here, and for some reason it won't stay inside anymore. It has to come out.”

On a normal day, Molly knew, she looked small and insignificant. There wasn't anything wrong with how she looked, but she wasn't pretty in the normal sense of the word. Some of the girls had changed a lot since grade six. Molly wasn't one of those girls. Her hair was stringy, her clothes were plain, and she had no hips or breasts. She still looked like a little girl.

But when she sang, she felt bigger—taller. She had to be. It was impossible for a sound like that to come from a small girl.

“Why haven't you told anyone?” Murphy said, looking confused. Molly looked different. He wasn't sure quite how. Older…stronger.

She took a deep breath. “Ever since I can remember, I've sung to myself—in my head. My voice was my secret, and I promised myself that my mom would be the first one to hear me sing. I wanted to give that to her—it was my gift. So I was waiting for her to come home.” Molly swallowed hard. “But she took too long. It had to come out. I couldn't wait.”

Murphy nodded.

“I broke my promise when I sang for Dad,” she said. “So I had to make another promise. When my mom comes home, I am going to sing for her—just her and me.”

“She'll like that,” Murphy said. He was quiet for a couple of seconds. Then he jumped up and said, “Okay, Amazing Mollgirl, we've got work to do.”

“Really? So you think I should sing in the competition?” she asked.

“Of course,” Murphy said. “Trouble is, I'm not sure what to do first. Maybe I should ask Paige.” He laughed.

“That's not funny,” Molly said and punched him good-naturedly on his arm. “Don't you
dare
talk to her about this. Don't tell
anyone
.”

Murphy looked at Molly. “The first word from your new manager is, get over it. If you're going to be a singer, then people are going to hear you sing. It's not a secret anymore.”

“Murphy!” she said.

“Molly!” Then he added, “You know I'm right. Your mom will understand. You can still sing for her—just the two of you. She'll love it.”

When Murphy went home, Molly worried about her promise. The problem with promises was that they were so hard to keep. She had broken her first promise, and there was something wrong about her second promise. It felt as if her mom would be getting a secondhand gift. She hoped Murphy was right and that her mom would understand. If Molly wanted to sing, people would hear her. The idea both terrified and excited her.

As soon as the boys jumped off the bus Monday morning, Molly knew Murphy hadn't kept his promise not to tell.

“Amazing Mollgirl,” Albert said. “Can I have your autograph?”

Jeff jumped off the bus next and said, “Molly, you are going to be a star.”

Danny followed Jeff. “I hope you're not singing stupid songs from some old dead singer,” he said. “Who's going to want to listen to that?” Obviously, Murphy had told him about Molly's favorite song, “Summertime.”

By the time Murphy got off the bus, Molly was furious.

“You promised,” she said. “Why did you have to tell them?” She turned and stomped toward the school.

Murphy and Jeff ran to catch up with her. “It's okay,” Jeff said. “We're going to help you.”

“Oh, sure you are,” she said, looking at Jeff through watery eyes. “I don't need help like yours.”