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Authors: Nikki Grimes
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you’ve been there?”
Paris thought of Ashley, wondering what her friend was up to that morning.
“There’s one,” said Paris. “Her name’s Ashley. She lives down the street.”
“What’s she like?”
Paris thought for a moment. How would she describe her new friend?
“She’s not like anybody,” said Paris. “I mean, she doesn’t care what anybody thinks, she’s not afraid of anything—she’s different. You could tell that right away.” Then Paris told her mother about that first day in class,how she’d met Ashley, and how they’d turned out to be neighbors. She described the super Valentine’s Day card Ashley’d made for her, and about the great sled race, and before Paris knew it, she and her mother were smiling and laughing together. Paris loved her mother’s deep-belly, let-it-all-out laugh. She’d almost forgotten that laugh. And the music. There was always music playing in the house, and suddenly Paris realized where her own love of music came from. She’d gotten more from her mother than her eyes and nose. Paris smiled at the thought, feeling more connected to Viola than ever.
• • •
Late that afternoon, Viola took Paris back to Penn Station. Viola escorted Paris onto the train, balancing her overnight case and her extra bags of new clothing. She helped Paris get settled in her seat.
“All aboard!”
It was time to say good-bye, and this time, when Viola hugged Paris, Paris hugged her back.
“See you soon, sweetie,” she said, then rushed off the train.
Paris waved to her mother through the window, a sudden flash of sadness blinding her, stinging her eyes, making them wet.
“Good-bye, Mommy.”
Chapter 22
HOMECOMING
P aris returned to the welcome routine of school. She slipped into her seat beside Ashley as Miss Broadnax began taking the roll.
“Patti Anderson.”
“Here.”
“Matt Brooks.”
“Here.”
“Where were you all weekend?” Ashley whispered. “Ashley Corbett.”
“Shh,” said Paris. “I’ll tell you later.”
“Ashley Corbett!”
“Oh! Here. Mostly.”
Paris grinned.
That girl’ll say anything.
• • •
Come lunchtime, Paris had made up her mind to tell Ashley straight out. She might as well. Ashley would probably bug her to death until Paris told her, anyway.
“I went to see my mother—my real mother—in the city.”
“Oh!” said Ashley, between bites of her sandwich. “So? How was it?”
Paris considered the best word to use. “It was—weird. At first, I didn’t want to see her at all. Then, I was kinda glad to see her again. Then, by the time I left, I was sad to go, but also happy to be coming back here. It’s all mixed up in my head.”
Ashley nodded as if she understood. Paris knew that she didn’t but she could see that her friend was trying, and that counted for something.
“Want some oatmeal cookies?” asked Ashley, after a time. “My mom packed a bunch of extras today.”
“Sure,” said Paris, happy to return to safer ground. “Hand them over. Mmm, mmm, mmm! Your mom makes the best cookies!” said Paris, licking the crumbs from her fingers.
“My daddy says she’s the best cook in seven states!”
“Where is your daddy, anyway?” asked Paris. “I never see him.”
“He’s a salesman,” said Ashley. “Always on the road. You’ll meet him, one of these days.”
Paris shrugged. It seemed like most of the daddies she knew were ghosts. Why should Ashley’s daddy be any different?
“I’m starving, here,” said Paris. “I need another cookie. Hurry, or I’ll have to call 911!”
Ashley shook her head, and broke the last cookie in half.
Chapter 23
CHOIR PRACTICE
P aris’ math workbook was one colossal smudge.
That’s what you get for rushing
, thought Paris. But she couldn’t help herself. According to house rules, unless she finished her homework on time, she couldn’t go to choir, and if she didn’t get to go to choir, she’d die. No
Paris thought of Ashley, wondering what her friend was up to that morning.
“There’s one,” said Paris. “Her name’s Ashley. She lives down the street.”
“What’s she like?”
Paris thought for a moment. How would she describe her new friend?
“She’s not like anybody,” said Paris. “I mean, she doesn’t care what anybody thinks, she’s not afraid of anything—she’s different. You could tell that right away.” Then Paris told her mother about that first day in class,how she’d met Ashley, and how they’d turned out to be neighbors. She described the super Valentine’s Day card Ashley’d made for her, and about the great sled race, and before Paris knew it, she and her mother were smiling and laughing together. Paris loved her mother’s deep-belly, let-it-all-out laugh. She’d almost forgotten that laugh. And the music. There was always music playing in the house, and suddenly Paris realized where her own love of music came from. She’d gotten more from her mother than her eyes and nose. Paris smiled at the thought, feeling more connected to Viola than ever.
• • •
Late that afternoon, Viola took Paris back to Penn Station. Viola escorted Paris onto the train, balancing her overnight case and her extra bags of new clothing. She helped Paris get settled in her seat.
“All aboard!”
It was time to say good-bye, and this time, when Viola hugged Paris, Paris hugged her back.
“See you soon, sweetie,” she said, then rushed off the train.
Paris waved to her mother through the window, a sudden flash of sadness blinding her, stinging her eyes, making them wet.
“Good-bye, Mommy.”
Chapter 22
HOMECOMING
P aris returned to the welcome routine of school. She slipped into her seat beside Ashley as Miss Broadnax began taking the roll.
“Patti Anderson.”
“Here.”
“Matt Brooks.”
“Here.”
“Where were you all weekend?” Ashley whispered. “Ashley Corbett.”
“Shh,” said Paris. “I’ll tell you later.”
“Ashley Corbett!”
“Oh! Here. Mostly.”
Paris grinned.
That girl’ll say anything.
• • •
Come lunchtime, Paris had made up her mind to tell Ashley straight out. She might as well. Ashley would probably bug her to death until Paris told her, anyway.
“I went to see my mother—my real mother—in the city.”
“Oh!” said Ashley, between bites of her sandwich. “So? How was it?”
Paris considered the best word to use. “It was—weird. At first, I didn’t want to see her at all. Then, I was kinda glad to see her again. Then, by the time I left, I was sad to go, but also happy to be coming back here. It’s all mixed up in my head.”
Ashley nodded as if she understood. Paris knew that she didn’t but she could see that her friend was trying, and that counted for something.
“Want some oatmeal cookies?” asked Ashley, after a time. “My mom packed a bunch of extras today.”
“Sure,” said Paris, happy to return to safer ground. “Hand them over. Mmm, mmm, mmm! Your mom makes the best cookies!” said Paris, licking the crumbs from her fingers.
“My daddy says she’s the best cook in seven states!”
“Where is your daddy, anyway?” asked Paris. “I never see him.”
“He’s a salesman,” said Ashley. “Always on the road. You’ll meet him, one of these days.”
Paris shrugged. It seemed like most of the daddies she knew were ghosts. Why should Ashley’s daddy be any different?
“I’m starving, here,” said Paris. “I need another cookie. Hurry, or I’ll have to call 911!”
Ashley shook her head, and broke the last cookie in half.
Chapter 23
CHOIR PRACTICE
P aris’ math workbook was one colossal smudge.
That’s what you get for rushing
, thought Paris. But she couldn’t help herself. According to house rules, unless she finished her homework on time, she couldn’t go to choir, and if she didn’t get to go to choir, she’d die. No
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