Read Online Molly Moon & the Monster Music by Georgia Byng - Free Book Online

soup for everyone. Mr. Proila returned to the table, grunted, sat down heavily on the end of the bench, and started slurping his soup.
    When his bodyguard returned, he was carrying a very smart red paper bag with gold lines around its edges. Without thanking him, Mr. Proila took the bag and peered inside. He pulled out a red box andflipped its lid open. Snapping apart the chopsticks that had come in the bag too, he began pincering out pieces of pale pink marbled flesh from the red box and eating them.
    â€œ Otoro! My favorite!” he said with a full mouth. “Best, most delicious fish in the world!” he said, gobbling up his supper. Then he saw that Gerry was glaring at him. “What ya staring at, boy?”
    Gerry looked furious. Molly wondered what could have caused his anger.
    Gerry stood up and pointed at Mr. Proila’s meal box. “How can you eat that?” he said coldly.
    Mr. Proila squinted as he read Gerry’s lips. “With great pleasure, that’s how!” He laughed, showing a mouthful of half-chewed fish.
    â€œBut that fish . . . bluefin tuna—is rare. It is endangered. Eating bluefin tuna is like eating tiger meat or rhino!”
    â€œWouldn’t mind a tiger steak!” came Mr. Proila’s amused reply.
    He scrutinized Gerry, so small and opinionated and cross at the end of the table, and he guffawed and then bellowed with laughter. But as his mouth was still full of chewed fish, a bit went down his windpipe. This sent him into spasms of coughing. For a moment the coughing was still accompaniedby laughter, then as he grew purple in the face and his bodyguard patted him on the back, he grew more serious. When he had finally rid himself of the cough and his breathing had leveled out, his sense of humor had vanished. As though the coughing fit had been all Gerry’s doing, he gave him a nasty look and pointed his chopsticks at him.
    â€œListen, Tadpole,” he said, “and listen good. First of all, what I do is no business of anyone’s except mine. If you ever talk to me like that again, I’ll sushi you. And as for the tuna, I don’t care if it’s the absolute last bluefin in the sea. I get what I want, and if I want bluefin tuna, I’ll eat it.”
    Gerry looked stunned. He sat down, shaken. Petula jumped up on his knee to comfort him. Hiroyuki, Chokichi, and Toka patted his back reassuringly. Molly went to sit beside him. She put a hand on his shoulder. Half of her knew she ought to stick up for Gerry, but the other half didn’t care enough to.
    â€œDon’t worry about it, Gerry,” she said under her breath. “But you shouldn’t have wound him up.”
    Gerry stood up. “I’m going to the toilet,” he announced. “To be sick!” he added.
    â€œI come with you,” Toka said.

Eleven
    M olly watched Gerry and Toka go, then turned her attention back to Mr. Proila. Her hand strayed into her pocket. She touched her gold coin, and as she did, a curious impulse overwhelmedher—to take her harmonica from her other pocket and play it. Molly pressed the instrument to her lips and with a deep breath began to play. Only a small part of her wondered why she was doing this.
    Hiroyuki and Chokichi looked up. The notes from Molly’s harmonica danced through the air. Molly could certainly play the small instrument. As its metallic melody filled the restaurant, Hiroyuki and Chokichi became immersed in the sound. Miss Sny tipped her head to listen, too. People at other tables looked up. The waiters halted what they were doing. Even the bodyguards gazed at Molly, as the marvelous sound rippled into the air. The music she was making was fantastic, like something heaven-sent. And, Molly noticed, the more she played, the more in awe her audience was.
    Petula sat on the second table boat, away from Molly. Molly was smelling ever stronger—now of sharp thorns and poisonous flowers. Petula knew