The Road to Paris by Nikki Grimes

Author:Nikki Grimes [Grimes, Nikki]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9781101658000
Publisher: Penguin Group US
Published: 2008-01-09T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 18

FORT FRIENDLY

The next day at church, Paris belted out the Christmas hymns with a secret joy. Singing in the choir was sweeter than hot chocolate with swirls of whipped cream. All too soon, the service was over and it was time to leave.

The drive home was treacherous. While Paris was in church, it was as if God had sunk his shovel into a mountain of snow and scattered it over the whole earth.

Snow continued to fall all day and through the night. When Paris woke up the next morning, the little house on the hill was an island surrounded by a silent sea of white.

Wow, thought Paris.

She had never seen so much snow.

Her bedroom door flew open, and David stuck his head inside.

“Snow day!” he said, grinning. “I’ll bet you anything!” Then he took off down the stairs.

Paris threw on her robe, jumped into her slippers, and went to investigate. She found the family sitting around the breakfast table, craning toward the kitchen radio, which was up full volume. Mr. Lincoln would have turned it down, had he been there. But he’d headed out the night before for a late shift at Con Edison. A short walk up the steep hill got him there, so his car was still in the driveway. The overnight snowfall had completely covered his tracks.

The radio crackled, catching Paris’ attention. “Ignatious Elementary: closed. McKinley Elementary: closed. Claremont Elementary: closed.”

“Wahoo!” sang David and Jordan in chorus. Mrs. Lincoln groaned. So did Earletta. Her school was also closed, and the thought of spending a day at home with her pesky little brothers wasn’t her idea of fun.

“All right, boys,” said Mrs. Lincoln. “Get your clothes on. You, too, Paris. I need you to clear the snow from the doorway, and clear a path down the front steps. Then you can play.”

“How come Earletta isn’t helping?” asked Paris.

“I am not climbing through anybody’s window,” said Earletta.

Paris was puzzled. “Window?”

• • •

A few minutes later, Paris opened the front door. That was as far as she got. The screen door was wedged shut by two and a half feet of snow. The only way out of the house was through a window.

“Climb on out, then make your way to the backyard,” said Mrs. Lincoln. “There are shovels in the shed. David knows where we keep them.”

The boys climbed out first to show her there was nothing to it. “Stuff your pant legs all the way inside your boots,” David instructed. “That’ll make it easier for you to walk.”

Paris did as she was told, then hoisted herself through the living room window. She sank into a mound of cold, then stood a long while transfixed by the alien landscape.

The entire street was smothered in snow, right up to the doorways of each house. Gone were streets and sidewalks. Driveways were invisible. Telephone wires hung heavy, looking every bit like clotheslines draped with wet, white laundry. Mailboxes and telephone poles were skinny islands in a sea of powder. The house across the street looked like a gingerbread house with powdered sugar on the rooftop.

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