Molly's Promise (2 page)

Since Murphy had become her friend, Molly was learning to fit in to both sides. Murphy lived on the reserve, but Molly lived in town.

Molly had lived with her dad since she was ten months old. He was tall, wide and brown, with a head of thick, black hair. Molly was short, narrow and pale, with fine, straw-colored hair and blue eyes. Her dad said that her looks were all Molly's mom had left her. Until Molly met Murphy, she had felt like she was from another planet. She hadn't felt like she fit anywhere, not even with her dad.

Murphy had laughed when Molly complained about not fitting in. “It's no different on the reserve,” he said. “They wonder why I look like a white kid. Mom says it's all thanks to my dad.”

Before the Formidable Four became Riverside's soccer heroes, the white kids and First Nations kids had stayed in separate groups. The First Nations kids had hung around the old tennis courts or the cafeteria. The white kids had pretty much had the run of the rest of the school. Molly, trying to avoid both sides, had spent a lot of time with her earbuds, listening to music on her iPod—her favorite thing to do in the whole world.

When Molly was younger, she was okay with it being just her dad and her. But after she had become friends with Murphy, she had gotten to know his mom, Celia. Now, more than anything else, Molly wanted a mom of her own. She scoured her house to find clues about her mom. But there was nothing—no pictures, no letters. There wasn't a trace of her. When she asked her dad about her mom, he either got mad or ignored her.

“What's wrong, Moll?” he would ask. “For all these years it's been just you and me. Have I done something wrong?”

He hadn't done anything wrong. He was the best dad a girl could have. But she wanted a mom.

“No, Dad,” she said. “You're the best dad ever.”

Molly wanted to plead with him to tell her something, anything, about her mom, but she didn't want him to feel bad. So she quit asking.

Murphy understood how Molly felt, because all he got from his dad was a card on his birthday—sometimes. Murphy called his dad a no-show. He said that since he had never had any other sort of dad, he had gotten sort of used to it.

But all Molly could think about was the day her mom would come home. She could almost feel her mom's arms around her, hugging her for the first time. Sometimes Molly longed for her mom so much her stomach hurt. She would get excused from class and lie in the school medical room, staring at the pictures of nurses on the wall and wondering if one of them was her mom.

At night Molly would lie in bed and imagine her mom singing and telling her stories. She'd slip in her earbuds and listen to old-time singers, imagining she was listening to her mom. Molly knew she was making it up, and the whole thing was kind of crazy. But she needed to believe her mom was with her.

Chapter Three

In spite of Danny's nasty mood and Molly's preference for watching games rather than competing in them, the race had got her thinking that joining the girls' soccer team might not be such a bad idea. She was faster than she thought, and with a pair of soccer boots that fit she could pass the ball and probably even score.

But soccer wasn't exactly what Molly wanted to do. She didn't tell anyone what she
really
wanted to do. It was a secret she had promised never to share with anyone except her mom. So she had to wait until her mom came home.

Lunch was almost over by the time Jeff, Albert, Murphy and Molly reached the school after the race. Danny and a crowd of kids inside the foyer were crammed around the notice board. Molly stood on her toes and caught a glimpse of a large poster tacked on top of the other notices. It read:

CENTRAL VALLEY YOUTH TALENT
COMPETITION
Do you dance? Do you sing?
Are you a slam poet?

Danny read the poster. “So you think you can dance?” He jumped around pretending to dance. “Spare me the pain of watching all the try-hards from this school,” he said. “It's going to be a freak show.”

Murphy looked at the poster and said, “Do they really think Riverside has talent?”

“Maybe they're thinking about the soccer field,” Jeff said, simulating a shot on goal.

Molly ignored the boys and read the small print.

Date: March 12
Place: Central Valley Community Arts Center
Time: 2-5
PM
Ages: Grades 6-12

Sign up by February 28
Registration forms are available at Riverside Middle
School and Central Valley High School
Cash prize of $500 and a trip to Winnipeg to compete
in the Canadian Youth Talent Competition

There were only two weeks to sign up and another two weeks to practice.

“We should put on the soccer boots,” Murphy said. He dodged from side to side as if warming up in net.

“Hey, Molly, did you read the poster? How cool is that?” Nell appeared out of the crowd. “Paige is going to dance. She's got a mega-good chance.”

Paige arrived, followed by Dede and Fi. She looked over Molly's head, making an obvious effort to ignore her. Molly was easy to miss. She was at least a head shorter than Paige.

“Come on, Nell,” Paige said. She shot a deadly glance at Molly and turned to her friends. “I've got to decide on a dance and get my costumes and…how am I going to wear my hair?” She pulled the elastic band from her ponytail, releasing her hair in a cascade of golden waves. “What do you think? I love my hair down, don't you?”

“No kidding,” Fi said. She brushed her fingers through Paige's hair. “If you got it, girl, use it.”

“You are soooo right,” Dede said as the girls disappeared back into the crowd. “I just love the way your hair…”

When the bell rang, Molly reread the poster carefully, noting the time, the place, the entry fee and the names of the judges—Leroy Macpherson, Tiffany Terrell and Magpie.

She silently rolled
Magpie
around on her tongue. Magpies, Molly had discovered in Earth Sciences class, were one of the most intelligent animals, even though they were only little songbirds. They could sing for more than an hour without stopping.

Molly took another look at the poster. Pictures of dancers floated around the edges, making it look like it was advertising a dance competition, not a talent show. Under the writing in the center of the poster was an image of a hand holding a large microphone. She shivered.

“Come on, Molly!” Murphy called from the end of the hall. “We can't get started without you.”

First block after lunch was Foods class. Molly, Jeff and Murphy were cooking partners. Today they were making pizza.

“What's up with you, Moll?” Murphy said when the pizza was finally ready to eat. “You're pretty quiet.” He shoved a huge bite in his mouth.

“What do you guys think about the talent show?” she asked.

“Huh?” Murphy grunted as he wiped his mouth with his sleeve.

“I said, what do you guys think about the talent show?”

Jeff laughed. “One fish, two fish, red fish, blue fish, maybe I'm a poet?”

“No way, Jeffman.” Murphy made an
X
with his arms. “You got real talent. You should suit up and do a solo show with a soccer ball. The audience could count one kick, two kick, good kick, great kick.”

“Now that's real talent.” Jeff smiled. “Singers and dancers won't have a chance against a skill like that.”

“It's a great idea,” Molly said. “No one else would even think of it.”

“I was just kidding,” said Murphy. “No offense, Jeff, but I don't think you'd be very entertaining.”

“But it's a talent,” Molly said. “Everyone would think it was great.”

“No freaking way. I'd probably flub it after five or six kicks,” Jeff said. “Murph should sing. Or Danno could dance. Yeah, he could wear a tutu.”

Murphy and Jeff were laughing so hard, Molly decided not to say any more about the talent competition.

“Did I hear you guys making fun of my dancing ability?” Danny pirouetted over to their table and dropped into a chair next to Molly. “Molly is the one who should dance,” he said, appearing friendly. Then, with a mean look, he said, “She should stick to what she's good at.”

“At least I can dance better than you,” Molly said.

Murphy said, “Why don't you just leave her alone?”

Danny got up, slammed his chair against the table and went back to his own cooking group.

“Thanks,” Molly said. “I don't care if he doesn't like me, but he doesn't have to keep rubbing it in.”

Chapter Four

Having
PE
first thing in the morning made Molly tired just thinking about it. She plunked herself on the bench and untied her shoes.

Paige strolled around the change room in her bra and undies as everyone put on their gym strip. “I'm so crazy scared,” she said, and she placed her hands over her mouth. “There are going to be dancers from grade twelve, and I'm only thirteen. That's not even fair.”

The way Paige swaggered around the room with next to nothing on made Molly cringe and admire her at the same time.

“You don't have to worry. You look sixteen,” Dede said. Dede had turned thirteen a few weeks earlier but could pass for sixteen any day, especially with all the makeup she caked on her face.

“You will look divine,” Fi said.

“You can do it,” Nell said. “No worries.”

Nell was taller than the other girls, and prettier, too, as far as Molly was concerned.

Paige swooshed her head from side to side. “I am the reigning provincial dance champ,” she said, pulling on her T-shirt. “I can beat anyone my age, no worries—but what about the older girls? Oooh.” She stepped into her shorts. The length of her legs amazed Molly.

“Do you know anyone else entering the talent show?” Molly quietly asked.

Paige swung around and glared at Molly. “Maybe you,” she said and laughed. She did a little tap-dance routine and stamped both her feet, edging forward until she was less than an arm's length away from Molly. “Did you hear that, girls? Molly is going to dance. I thought she just liked to play with boys.” Paige swiveled around and sashayed out of the room.

Molly's voice faltered. “I'm not going to dance.”

Nell said, “It's going to be so great. I'm going to be Paige's stage manager.”

“Sounds like a blast,” Molly said.

Loni, one of Albert's cousins, sat nearby, pulling on her sneakers. She didn't look one bit impressed by any of them, and said, “So what? Paige may have longer legs than the rest of us, but her ego is a size super-extra-large.”

“I hope she falls flat on her face,” said another girl.

“She may be a great dancer,” Molly said, taking time to fold her clothes, “but she doesn't have to be so mean.”

The trouble was, no one could ignore Paige. Molly included. Not only could Paige somersault, vault, cartwheel, handspring and rope-climb better than anyone, but she also looked better than everyone else while she was doing it.

In the gym, Molly watched Paige float from one tumbling station to the other and wondered how genetics could get everything in one body so perfect. Paige's mother must be beautiful, Molly thought.

Molly considered her own awkward performance and abandoned her talent-contest dream. She thought of her own mom. She must be short, with a serious lack of talent, at least in the dancing and gymnastics departments. And she was definitely not beautiful— not if, as her dad said, Molly looked like her.