Read Online Molly's Promise by Sylvia Olsen - Free Book Online

house after breakfast, carrying his notepad. “Less than a week to go,” he said. “We have to rehearse.”
    â€œMorning, Murph,” Molly’s dad said.
    â€œYa, hi, Mr. J,” he said, checking his list. “We haven’t even decided what song Molly’s going to sing.”
    â€œI think we all know she has to sing ‘Summertime,’” her dad said. “The judges won’t believe it.”
    â€œThat works for me,” Murphy said. “What do you think, Moll?”
    â€œIt works for me, too,” she said. She felt good that her dad was taking an interest.
    â€œAnd we haven’t decided if she’s going to sing a cappella or use music. What do you think?” Murphy asked.
    â€œLet’s go without music. No one else is going to sing that way,” said Molly.
    â€œOkay, no music,” Murphy said firmly.
    Molly’s dad and Murphy sat on the sofa.
    â€œWe’re ready,” her dad said.
    After Molly had sung, Murphy said, “Good. That was really good. Next time, think of us as the judges.”
    She sang it again, wincing slightly at the thought of competing.
    â€œYou didn’t look as happy that time,” her dad said.
    Molly scrunched up her nose. “I wasn’t,” she said. “I don’t like being judged.”
    Murphy said, “Get used to it. That’s what this is all about.”
    â€œFor you, maybe,” she said.
    â€œOkay. This time pretend we’re the audience,” he said.
    Molly imagined hundreds of people watching her. She felt them breathing. No one made a sound in her imagination. No one moved. The more she sang, the closer they listened, until in the end they erupted like a flock of geese taking to the sky.
    â€œWow, Moll,” her dad said. “I think you’re ready. What do you think, Mr. Manager? How can she do better than that?”
    â€œYou’re right, Mr. J. And I think she likes an audience better than judges.” Murphy read his notes. “We need to check a few things. Clothing. Do you have something comfortable? Hair. It’s awesome, Moll. Tickets. Mr. J, do you have a ticket?”
    â€œNot yet,” her dad said.
    â€œNo worries,” Murphy said, digging in his pocket. He handed Molly’s dad a rumpled ticket. “Grandma thought you might need one. She bought twenty tickets, or something like that. Everyone is coming early to get front-row seats. Molly’s going to have the biggest cheering section there.”

    Molly stood next to Albert on the sidelines of the soccer field on Sunday afternoon.
    â€œSo, Moll,” Albert said, tapping a ball with the toe of his boots. “Are we going to win?”
    â€œI’m sure of it,” Molly said, taking her eyes off the boys, who were practicing shooting on Murphy in the net. “We’re a little weak on offense now that you aren’t playing. But we’ve got Murphy—what else do we need?”
    Albert slapped her lightly on the back. “I’m talking about the talent competition.”
    â€œOh, that team.” Molly nudged him back in a friendly way.
    â€œYeah, that team,” Albert said. “Sorry I didn’t make your practice this morning. These days I feel like crap in the mornings. It sucks.”
    Molly had been thinking so hard about singing and soccer that she had forgotten Albert had gone for another cancer treatment.
    â€œAnd what about your team at the hospital?” she asked, noting the dark circles under his eyes and the grey color of his skin.
    â€œThe doctor said we’re winning,” he said. “Three more trips to Vancouver and that’s it.”
    â€œThat’s it?!”
    â€œThen I have to wait and see if the cancer is all gone.”
    Molly hated waiting. Waiting for a doctor to say whether or not you still had cancer sounded brutal. “Waiting must suck worse than anything,” she said.
    â€œI don’t