Free Molly Moon & the Monster Music by Georgia Byng Page B

affection for Petula had been a childish thing. The pug was just a dog. The feelings she’d had for Petula now seemed insipid and sickly, sugary and fake. She shivered with revulsion as she thought of them. And now Molly thought about the amount of time she had spent over the last few years caring about other people. Again, it made her squirm with sickness.
    Molly saw now that somehow she had gotten things completely wrong. She was a fabulous hypnotist and, provided she had her special crystals, a time stopper and time traveler. She was amazing! She was even a morpher. She could change into any creature she chose and, to cap it all, she could read minds. And until now, like a fool, she’d used her gifts to help other people. Curiously though, she didn’t feelinclined to use her old talents. Since last night when she’d seen how the coin could help her play music on the harmonica that mesmerized crowds of people, she had known it gave her something far superior to her other powers. People weren’t hypnotized one by one in the way they were when she used her eyes. They weren’t in a trance where they would instantly obey her every command. But they were mesmerized into being totally besotted by Molly, open to doing whatever she asked of them. Perhaps with more intense music people would be more deeply hypnotized. Molly was looking forward to trying that. Regular hypnotism might be useful for certain situations, she thought, but this mesmerizing harmonica music was potentially much more useful to her. She’d be able to make a fortune!
    Molly sat on the edge of the bed and took the coin from her pocket. She marveled at how musical skill had come to her so easily. It was miraculous and brilliant. But there was another thing this music had done, too. By being perfect when she played the harmonica, Molly had become hyperaware of the imperfections about her. Anything ugly or wrong got on her nerves, and that included people. In one fell swoop she had become a connoisseur of perfection. So, for instance, her new boots were perfect andmade her feel good. But her suitcase, sitting there in the corner of the room, was worn-out and old. She wanted a sophisticated Italian suitcase, of crocodile skin.
    She ought to have the best of everything. The best clothes, the best electrical equipment, the best art should surround her. The furniture she sat on, the cars she was driven in, the food she ate should be nothing but the best. She deserved it. And the people around her had a duty to make her life better, too. Anyone who disapproved of her or disappointed her shouldn’t be there. Petula, for instance, and Gerry. Irritating Gerry, with his self-righteous ideals and his stupid SAVE THE WHALES OR ELSE T-shirt and his dirty mouse.
    The old grandmother? Well, Molly hoped she would have a heart attack. As for Mr. Proila, he was the most worthwhile person about. He would make sure Molly succeeded. And how she wanted to succeed! The boy band she would tolerate. She needed them, for now.
    Molly smiled happily. Tonight was going to be bliss. Thousands of people would hear her play. They would all love her. Worship her! This thought calmed her. She put the harmonica to her mouth and blew. The flawless music she made gave her complete satisfaction. It was the best feeling ever.
    She lay back on her bed and fell asleep.
    Molly dreamed. She dreamed of a girl who looked like her but whose face was worried and whose voice was irritating. The girl was on a beach, standing at the bottom of a deep pit. Molly, at the top of the pit, played a guitar. People walked past and smiled and clapped adoringly. Each time they burst into applause the pit with the other girl in it got deeper. As she descended, the girl’s bleatings grew more and more distant. “I’m the real Molly!” the girl cried out.
    Molly woke with a start and immediately felt for her coin. Reassured by its comforting presence, she rolled over and went