me. It’s something I’ve been working on for a while, for all of us, honey.”
“What is it?” asked Paris, becoming impatient.
“I’ve gotten married again! His name is Marcus, and he can’t wait to meet you. And Malcolm, of course.”
“That’s nice,” said Paris, “but what’s that got to do with—”
Viola cut her off. “We’ve got a great big apartment in Brooklyn, and I’ve been working hard to get your rooms ready for you. Isn’t that great?” Her words ran together.
“We can all be a family again, honey! You and Malcolm can move back to the city, and live with Marcus and me. For good this time. No more foster homes, I promise! Prospect Park is right up the street, and there’s a school nearby, I’ve checked, and I’m sure you’ll like it, and the apartment is huge! Did I say that already? I probably did, I’m so excited. The thing is, now that I’ve straightened myself out, I really want you kids home with me. All you have to do is say yes, honey. If you want.”
Viola finally ran out of breath. She fell silent on the other end of the phone.
Paris was stunned.
After all this time
, thought Paris.
After all this time.
I’m just supposed to drop everything and leave Ossining? Leave David, Jordan, and Earletta? Give up my choir, my friends? Give up Mom and Dad Lincoln?
I guess Earletta was right, after all. She’s the one kid who gets to stay.
Paris slid to the floor, leaning her full weight against the kitchen cabinet.
The phone cord swung out from the wall and sent the handset banging loudly against the doorjamb.
“Hello? Hello? Are you still there?” said the tinny voice on the phone.
“Paris, what’s the matter?” asked Mr. Lincoln.
“Oh, Lord, what did that woman say to her? James, help her up,” Mrs. Lincoln said to Mr. Lincoln.
“Hey, Sis. Stop fooling around and get up,” said Jordan.
“Yeah,” said David.
Paris looked over at her foster family. They were all speaking at once. She could tell because she saw their mouths moving. But for some reason, her ears weren’t working. Paris couldn’t hear a thing.
For Paris, the rest of the evening was a blur. In a way, that was a special kind of blessing.
Chapter 36
THE GAMBLE
T he next morning, for the first time ever, a grown-up asked Paris what she thought.
“The decision is up to you,” said Mrs. Lincoln. “If you want to move back to the city and live with your mother, we’ll understand. But you know, you’ll always have a home here, if you want it, Paris. This time, you choose,” she said. Then she left Paris sitting on the edge of her bed, alone.
Choose what?
thought Paris.
How? The caseworker says I’m lucky, that most kids don’t have a mother who wants them back. Plus, I’d get to live with Malcolm again. But how can I feel lucky? If I go back to the city, that means leaving here. And this is home, now.
And what about this new stepdad? What if she didn’tlike him? What if he didn’t like her? And what if she did turn her mother’s offer down—what would that mean? Would Viola be out of her life for good? Did she want that? And what if it meant never seeing Malcolm again? Could she risk that?
Paris fell back on the bed and curled up into a ball. She stayed that way for a long time, rocking herself and thinking.
Jet padded into the room and lay at the foot of her bed. Somehow, he knew she needed the company.
The light in the room shifted as noon approached. Paris sat up and looked around. She eyed the wardrobe, the small desk and chair, as well as the night-light on the wall near the door, and she sighed.
“Come here, Jet,” she called to the collie. He barked and clambered onto the bed beside her. Paris stroked his back, and let him lick her face.
“Oof!” she said. “You need a bath!” But she didn’t push the dog away. Instead, she laid her head against his hairy body and snuggled.
• • •
Somehow, Paris made it through that day, and the next, and the
“What is it?” asked Paris, becoming impatient.
“I’ve gotten married again! His name is Marcus, and he can’t wait to meet you. And Malcolm, of course.”
“That’s nice,” said Paris, “but what’s that got to do with—”
Viola cut her off. “We’ve got a great big apartment in Brooklyn, and I’ve been working hard to get your rooms ready for you. Isn’t that great?” Her words ran together.
“We can all be a family again, honey! You and Malcolm can move back to the city, and live with Marcus and me. For good this time. No more foster homes, I promise! Prospect Park is right up the street, and there’s a school nearby, I’ve checked, and I’m sure you’ll like it, and the apartment is huge! Did I say that already? I probably did, I’m so excited. The thing is, now that I’ve straightened myself out, I really want you kids home with me. All you have to do is say yes, honey. If you want.”
Viola finally ran out of breath. She fell silent on the other end of the phone.
Paris was stunned.
After all this time
, thought Paris.
After all this time.
I’m just supposed to drop everything and leave Ossining? Leave David, Jordan, and Earletta? Give up my choir, my friends? Give up Mom and Dad Lincoln?
I guess Earletta was right, after all. She’s the one kid who gets to stay.
Paris slid to the floor, leaning her full weight against the kitchen cabinet.
The phone cord swung out from the wall and sent the handset banging loudly against the doorjamb.
“Hello? Hello? Are you still there?” said the tinny voice on the phone.
“Paris, what’s the matter?” asked Mr. Lincoln.
“Oh, Lord, what did that woman say to her? James, help her up,” Mrs. Lincoln said to Mr. Lincoln.
“Hey, Sis. Stop fooling around and get up,” said Jordan.
“Yeah,” said David.
Paris looked over at her foster family. They were all speaking at once. She could tell because she saw their mouths moving. But for some reason, her ears weren’t working. Paris couldn’t hear a thing.
For Paris, the rest of the evening was a blur. In a way, that was a special kind of blessing.
Chapter 36
THE GAMBLE
T he next morning, for the first time ever, a grown-up asked Paris what she thought.
“The decision is up to you,” said Mrs. Lincoln. “If you want to move back to the city and live with your mother, we’ll understand. But you know, you’ll always have a home here, if you want it, Paris. This time, you choose,” she said. Then she left Paris sitting on the edge of her bed, alone.
Choose what?
thought Paris.
How? The caseworker says I’m lucky, that most kids don’t have a mother who wants them back. Plus, I’d get to live with Malcolm again. But how can I feel lucky? If I go back to the city, that means leaving here. And this is home, now.
And what about this new stepdad? What if she didn’tlike him? What if he didn’t like her? And what if she did turn her mother’s offer down—what would that mean? Would Viola be out of her life for good? Did she want that? And what if it meant never seeing Malcolm again? Could she risk that?
Paris fell back on the bed and curled up into a ball. She stayed that way for a long time, rocking herself and thinking.
Jet padded into the room and lay at the foot of her bed. Somehow, he knew she needed the company.
The light in the room shifted as noon approached. Paris sat up and looked around. She eyed the wardrobe, the small desk and chair, as well as the night-light on the wall near the door, and she sighed.
“Come here, Jet,” she called to the collie. He barked and clambered onto the bed beside her. Paris stroked his back, and let him lick her face.
“Oof!” she said. “You need a bath!” But she didn’t push the dog away. Instead, she laid her head against his hairy body and snuggled.
• • •
Somehow, Paris made it through that day, and the next, and the
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