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"It's pretty noisy. Did you get to meet the players and their families?"
"Phoebe wouldn't let me." She wasn't certain why she felt compelled to lie, but she didn't want to tell him she was the one who had refused to go outside.
"Why not?"
"She's very strict. Besides, I'm not fond of patties. Actually, I'm a solitary person. I'm planning to be a writer when I grow up."
"Is that so?"
"I'm currently reading Dostoyevski."
"You don't say."
She was running out of conversation, and she cast about for another topic to hold his attention. "I can't imagine they'll study Dostoyevski at my new school. I start there on Wednesday. It's a public school, you know. Boys go there."
"Haven't you ever gone to school with boys?"
"No."
"A pretty girl like you should get along just fine."
"Thank you, but I know I'm not really pretty. Not like Phoebe."
"Of course you're not pretty like Phoebe. You're pretty in your own way. That's the best thing about women. Each one has her own way about her."
He'd called her a woman! She tucked that thrilling compliment away to be savored when she was alone. "Thank you for being so nice, but I know my limitations."
"I'm pretty much an expert on the subject of females, Miz Molly. You should listen to me."
She wanted to believe him, but she couldn't. "Are you a football player, Mr. Calebow?"
"I used to be, but I'm the head coach of the Stars now."
"I'm afraid I don't know anything about football."
"That seems to run on the female side of your family." He crossed his arms. "Didn't your sister bring you to the game this afternoon?"
"No."
"That's a shame. She should have."
She thought she detected disapproval in his voice, and it occurred to her that he might not like Phoebe either. She decided to test the waters. "My half sister doesn't want to bother with me. She got stuck with me, you see, because both my parents are dead. But she doesn't really want me." That, at least, was true. She had his complete attention now, and since she didn't want to lose it, she began to fabricate. "She won't let me go back to my old school and she hides the letters I get from all my girlfriends."
"Why would she do something like that?"
Molly's active imagination took over. "A streak of cruelty, perhaps. Some people are born with it, you know. She never lets me leave the house, and if she doesn't like what I've done, she feeds me bread and water." Inspiration struck. "And sometimes she slaps me."
"What?"
She was afraid she had gone too far, so she quickly added, "It doesn't hurt."
"It's hard to imagine your sister doing something like that."
She didn't like to hear him defending Phoebe. "You're a potent man, so her physical appearance has affected your judgment."
He made a funny choking sound. "Do you want to explain that?"
Her conscience told her not to say anything more, but he was being so nice and she wanted so much for him to like her that she couldn't help herself. "She acts differently around men than she does around me. She's like Rebecca, the first Mrs. de Winter. Men adore her, but she's quite vindictive underneath." Once again she thought she might have gone too far, so she tempered her statement. "Not that she's entirely evil, of course. Just mildly twisted."
