Molly's Promise by Sylvia Olsen Read Free Book Online Page A

goalpost.
    â€œNo 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.
    â€œWay to go,” Paige squealed as she ran up to Murphy. “Good game.”
    â€œNo, it wasn’t,” he said.
    â€œBut 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.”
    Danny threw his bag over his shoulder and said, “Come on, Murph. Let’s get out of here. That girl makes me mad.”
    â€œ She’s not our problem,” Murphy said. “The game didn’t matter to our standings, but still, we played terribly. That’s our problem.”
    â€œHey, we won. We’d already clinched first place,” Danny said. “What difference does it make?”
    â€œWinning isn’t everything. And it’s not the only thing,” Murphy said. “Not when you play a bad game.”
    â€œGeez, Murphy,” Molly said. “You’re never satisfied.”

Chapter Ten
    The next day when Murphy jumped off the bus, he was holding his notepad.
    â€œOur first performance is after school at Grandma’s place,” Murphy said with an air of authority. “She said we could set up a stage in the living room.”
    â€œMurphy, ughhhhh!” Molly said.
    Murphy ignored her. “Grandma says she’s going to invite everyone.”
    If Molly could choose a grandma, Murphy’s would be the one. She was always thinking up one crazy idea or another. Murphy lived downstairs at her house, and whenever Molly visited him, Grandma made sure to call them upstairs to eat fried bread or help her make chutney or hang lanterns from the ceiling.
    The thought of singing for Grandma and everyone on the reserve terrified Molly. Singing in front of a huge crowd at the Community Arts Center wasn’t as scary as that. But Molly decided not to argue if Grandma was involved.

    After school, when Molly and the boys piled out of the bus at Grandma’s house, Mousetrap, Murphy’s scruffy white cat, was waiting for them on the street. His uncle Rudy leaned against his car in the driveway.
    Grandma stood on the front steps, wiping her hands on her jeans. “It’s about time,” she hollered. “We’re almost ready inside.”
    Molly and the boys said, “Hi, Grandma!”
    â€œYou’re lucky I didn’t have time to tell everyone.” She laughed. “There’s going to be standing room only as it is.”
    Molly picked up Mousetrap. He was the kind of audience she liked.
    Inside, Grandma had pushed the dining room table into the corner and covered it with food—chips, tomatoes, apple pie, fried bread and jam. By the window, she had put a piece of plywood on top of some blue recycle bins to make a stage.
    â€œIt’s safe,” she said, climbing onto it. “See?” She jumped up and down. “I tied them together.”
    She had pushed the sofa to the edge of the living room and brought in kitchen and patio chairs and some stools from the basement.
    â€œHow many people are coming?” Molly asked. A large lump was forming in her stomach.
    â€œMore than will fit in this place,”