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see,” said the doctor, leaning back in his chair. “Well, that’s normal for little boys,” he said, sounding disappointed. “Anything else?”
    Paris shook her head. She knew if she opened her mouth, she’d laugh out loud.
    “So, basically, everything’s fine at the home,” said Dr. Stern. “Let’s move on, then.
    “Today, we’re going to play a few games that will tell me something about you. Would that be all right?”
    Paris nodded. She was looking forward to having a little fun.
    The afternoon flew by in a whirl of tests disguised as games. Paris liked the inkblots best. As the young doctor flashed each card, Paris was to identify what she saw. When he showed her an inkblot that clearly resembled a butterfly, Paris said, “Elephant.” When she saw a dragonfly, she said, “School bus.”
Let him figure that one out
, thought Paris.
    Next came a game of free association. That was even more fun. When the doctor said, “Black,” Paris said, “Ice cream.” When he said, “Mother,” she said, “Sneaker.” He scribbled notes furiously throughout, and Paris bit her lip to keep from laughing.
    In the end, Stern placed an anxious call to Mrs. Lincoln, asking that she come in right away to take Paris home.
    “Mrs. Lincoln,” said Dr. Stern when she arrived, “please give me a call tomorrow so we can discuss a few things.”
    Mrs. Lincoln agreed, giving Paris’ shoulder a squeeze.
    That evening, when Mrs. Lincoln came to say good night to Paris, she lingered in the doorway.
    “I bet I know why Dr. Stern wants to talk to me,” said Mrs. Lincoln. “You were pulling that doctor’s leg today, weren’t you?”
    Paris tensed up, wondering if she were in trouble. “Yes,” she whispered.
    Mrs. Lincoln shook her head, and laughed. “Exactly like Earletta,” she said, more to herself than to Paris. “You’ll do just fine, sugar,” she said. “You’ll do just fine.”
    Paris relaxed her shoulders, her heart beginning to thaw. “Thanks, Mom.”
    Paris’ new mom switched off the light, the music of her laughter still hanging in the air.

Chapter 14
THANKSGIVING
    E arly on Thanksgiving morning, Paris went downstairs for breakfast, and was surprised to find everyone else up already, and busy as ants on a hill of sugar.
    The sink held a mountain of yams. Earletta was chopping celery and onions. David was manning the toaster, putting in one slice of bread after another, then handing the toast to Jordan, who ripped them into smaller, bite-size pieces and piled them in a bowl for stuffing. Mrs. Lincoln sat at the table, snapping string beans, and Mr. Lincoln rubbed spices into the fat turkey.
    “Happy Thanksgiving,” Mrs. Lincoln said to Paris as she walked in.
    “Can I help?” asked Paris, not really wanting to. Thismany people in one space made her feel as if the walls were closing in.
    “No. Not this time,” said Mrs. Lincoln. “Why don’t you check on Jet’s food dish and make sure he has some fresh water.”
    Paris nodded and grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl on her way out.
    The challenge for the day was not to get in anybody’s way. Paris managed it by playing with and feeding Jet, taking care of David’s pet rabbit, and reading a chapter book. She even raked up leaves in the yard without being asked.
    At about noon, people started showing up at the door. Paris was introduced to each family member by Mr. Lincoln.
    Grandma Lincoln came first, then came Mrs. Lincoln’s sister Ida, and her two girls. Mr. Lincoln’s baby brother Raymond, who was single, came next. Finally, Mrs. Lincoln’s sister Jolene arrived with her nine-year-old son, Sheldon.
    “We call her ‘the mouth,’” Mr. Lincoln whispered to Paris.
    The dining room table was packed. Mrs. Lincoln had used every extra leaf to make it long enough to seat everyone.
    Packed or not, if anyone asked Paris, she would tell them that one person was missing from that table, and that person was Malcolm.
    Mr. Lincoln said grace, then