Molly Moon & the Monster Music by Georgia Byng

going upstairs to change.
    When everyone was up, the boys’ grandmother wheeled herself into the middle of the sitting room and switched on her hearing aid so that she could hear her grandsons. Without acknowledging Molly, she kissed the three boys and they lavished presents from Ecuador upon her.
    After this, Molly was given a new T-shirt with a smiling skull on the front, and Gerry a yellow leather jacket that Toka had recently grown out of. The mice were put away, and then, ready for their supper with Mr. Proila, the brothers and Molly, Gerry, and Petula left the apartment.
    As the glass elevator descended, they saw Mr. Proila and Miss Sny below. He had donned a white silk suit and was pacing up and down the lobby area, gesticulating madly.
    As they drew level with him, they saw that he was talking on the phone and that his face was twisted with fury. The elevator doors opened and they heard his gravelly voice shouting in a language Molly didn’t recognize. Miss Sny was listening in on an extra handset so that she could tell Mr. Proila insign language what the person on the other end of the line was saying.
    Mr. Proila raised his eyes and, without pausing, looked away from Gerry, Molly, and Petula, giving them as much attention as he might a stack of chairs.
    Molly noticed that the top of the little finger on his right hand was missing. All that was left was a stump that twitched as he talked. And when he pulled his jacket sleeve back in exasperation at his stormy conversation, Molly saw that his arm was black as ink. In the next second she realized that this blackness was a tattoo. She wondered how far up his body it went. She saw a flash of tattoo on the skin under the collar of his shirt as well. He was obviously covered in them.
    Beyond the door of the building a large chauffeur-driven limousine stood waiting. The usual crowds filled the sidewalk, and six bodyguards stood there like pillars.
    When Mr. Proila’s phone call was over, he swaggered over to the children.
    â€œSo,” he began, addressing Hiroyuki disdainfully in his thick Russian accent. His voice was slightly loud even when he wasn’t shouting; presumably his deafness meant he couldn’t hear himself. “These are your little friends”—an odd thing to say as hewas so short himself. He pointed at Gerry. “A hobo, a scruffball, a stinkball. Your old jacket, Toka, doesn’t disguise that.” Turning to Molly he commented, “This one can have her nose operated on as soon as she’s fully grown. The surgeons can work wonders. But the eyes, too closely set. Nothing to be done about them, I’m afraid.”
    Molly was momentarily stunned. No one had insulted her like this in a very long time. What with the mean grandmother and now with this rude man, Tokyo was beginning to feel hostile. But before she had time to think to turn her green eyes upon Mr. Proila and let them ensnare him with hypnotism, he had put on his dark sunglasses and turned away.
    â€œSorry about his manners,” Chokichi said. “He is perhaps the rudest person you will ever meet. Don’t take it to heart. He is sick.”
    â€œThe good thing,” said Toka, “is that you can talk behind his back and he can’t hear what you say. Look!” Toka stepped up toward Mr. Proila and said loudly, “You are an ugly, stupid, rude toad, Proila . . . See?” He turned back to Molly.
    But in the same instant, Mr. Proila’s hand came slamming down on Toka’s shoulder. “Not insulting me, I hope, Toka. I felt your step. Felt your breath, boy. Watch it!”
    Toka shrank back toward his brothers.
    Mr. Proila and Miss Sny sat in the middle section of the limousine, partitioned from both the driver in the front and the children in the back as they drove to the restaurant, followed by two of the bodyguards in a car behind them.
    â€œYou’re going to love this,” Chokichi said to Molly as they