The Road to Paris by Nikki Grimes Read Free Book Online Page A

you like that? I feel like I’m starting to forget. I’m sorry, Malcolm.
    There’s a girl here called Earletta. But I don’t see her much. She’s real old like in high school and doesn’t want to hang around with a kid my age. Which I don’t mind. I like to stay to myself, anyway. I get to do that a lot cause—surprise!—I have my own room. Would you believe it? Its a teeny room, tho. I don’t want you thinking I’m in some palace. Still, I wish you were here to share it.
    Where are you? I’m writing this stupid letter and I don’t even know where to send it. I had to talk to you, tho, even if its only on paper.
    I better go. Its my turn to set the table. (I have chores now,like you used to have at home before Mom—never mind. I don’t think about her anymore, or grandma who I’m still mad at.)
    Oh! I almost forgot. I have a new friend. Her name is Ashley. She lives down the street.
    Bye for now.
    Paris.

Chapter 16
MARCHING TO ZION
    P aris decided it was time to try out the family church. Mrs. Lincoln didn’t make Paris go when she first got to Ossining. Paris was left to decide when she was ready. “God won’t force you to visit his house,” said Mrs. Lincoln, “and I won’t, either.” That was fine with Paris because there was already so much new to get used to.
    One Sunday morning, Paris woke up feeling ready to go.
    Star of Bethlehem Baptist Church was lovely inside, with its beautiful stained-glass windows and rich wood accents, but it felt like somebody had forgotten to turn the heat on. The wooden pews were cold against Paris’ thighs. She couldn’t understand for the life of her why she couldn’t wear pants to church. She didn’t see David and Jordanfreezing their legs off. Who made the rule that girls had to wear dresses to church, anyway?
    Paris tried to express this point over breakfast, but Mrs. Lincoln stopped her with one of those deadpan stares, and said, “Paris Richmond, who told you life was fair?” And that was the end of the discussion.
    Paris sat swinging her legs, pouting—until she heard the first chords of the organ. The sound sent an electric spark up one pew and down the next, and Paris forgot all about being cold. The melody flowed into her body like liquid sunshine, warming her as it traveled from the tips of her ears to the tips of her toes. Paris never knew that such a sound existed.
    “Are you okay?” asked Mr. Lincoln. Paris, her lips slightly parted, nodded and went on listening. She didn’t know how to explain it, but as the music played, she felt herself waking up inside.
    “All rise,” said a voice up front. The organist switched music and began to play “Marching to Zion.” The choir marched in from the back of the sanctuary, stepping in time to the music. When the choir loft was filled, the organist changed the melody once more. “Nothing but the Blood,” then “What a Friend We Have in Jesus,” and “Give Me Jesus on the Line.” He played one song after another, and the choir rode the sturdy waves of the organ music, theirvoices piercing the rafters and raising the temperature of everyone in the room.
    The music was all Paris heard that first morning at Star of Bethlehem. The prayers and sermon in between were merely interruptions. It was the music that spoke to Paris, the music she couldn’t wait to hear next. Mr. Lincoln couldn’t help but notice.
    At the end of the service, he leaned down to Paris. “You know,” he said, very casually, “we have a youth choir here. Think you might like to join it?”
    Paris all but leapt off the pew seat in response.
    “Could I?”
    Mr. Lincoln smiled. “Of course. Brother Wilson?” he called to the choir director. “I need to see you for a moment. I’ve got a new choir member here for you.”
    Paris couldn’t stop grinning. The idea of singing in the choir put a sparkle in her eyes that lasted for days.

Chapter 17
JINGLE BELLS
    C hristmas, Christmas, Christmas. That was all anybody talked about