Al Capone Does My Homework

  “When was the last time you remember seeing it?” I ask.

  “I don’t know. My pixies like to travel,” Janet explains. “I’ve taken them everywhere on this island.”

  “How about Moose’s apartment?” Theresa asks.

  “We’re not supposed to go in there,” Janet answers.

  “We’re talking about before the fire,” Theresa says.

  Janet looks at Theresa. “We’ve played there before, you know that.”

  Theresa blushes, then glances nervously at me.

  Janet pulls at one of her braids. “Why are you asking me all these questions?”

  “No reason,” Theresa chirps.

  Janet scowls. “There is so a reason.”

  “No reason I’m going to tell you,” Theresa corrects.

  Janet bugs her eyes at Theresa. “You have to tell.”

  “No I don’t,” Theresa says.

  “Do so.”

  “Do not.”

  Janet’s hands fly to her hips. “Do you want me to tell my mommy?”

  “Go ahead, because we have evidence,” Theresa announces. She has written EVEDENSE in big letters on her pad.

  “Evidence? What kind of evidence?” Janet demands.

  Oh great. I should have known this would get out of hand. “Theresa, calm down.”

  Theresa nods obediently. “Never mind about that,” she says.

  Janet frowns. Her lips are large and rubbery like a grown man’s lips on a seven-year-old girl’s face. When she frowns, they take over. “I know . . . you want me to have set that fire instead of Natalie.”

  “Nat didn’t start the fire,” Theresa says.

  “Did so.”

  “Did not.”

  “Did so. Mommy said.”

  “She doesn’t know everything,” Theresa says.

  “She knows more than you do,” Janet says.

  “All right, let’s drop this, okay? We found your pixie house burned in our kitchen. That’s all.”

  “It’s okay,” Janet says. “The pixies weren’t in it.”

  “But what was it doing there?” Theresa asks.

  “Hey wait a minute . . . . if it was burned, how did you know what it was?” Janet demands.

  “It was only partway burned,” I explain.

  “I’m not allowed to use matches and neither are the pixies,” Janet says.

  “You have, though. I’ve seen you,” Theresa announces.

  “I tried that once but they bended, remember?” Janet again.

  “Were you in our kitchen when you tried?” I ask.

  “No!” both Janet and Theresa say.

  “Okay, we were just asking. We don’t think you did it,” I say.

  “Yes we do,” Theresa says.

  Janet jumps off the bed. “I want my pixie house back!”

  Theresa shakes her head in a hard wide-swinging no. “It’s evidence.”

  “I’m going to tell my dad, then. He’ll fix your wagon.”

  “What’s that mean?” Theresa asks.

  “It means you’re going to get paddled.”

  “I am not!”

  “Theresa, give her back the pixie house,” I tell her.

  Theresa’s lip sticks out. Her face gets all squinched up. She stomps into her closet and comes out with the burned hatbox. Only one side of it is left. You can still see a circus lion and the black-and-white bars Janet drew. Janet’s pixies are always either in jail or in the circus.

  “This is a bad day for pixie people,” Janet whispers. She walks out, but then she comes back. “Don’t talk to my parents about the pixies. They don’t believe in them,” she says.

  “Okay,” I say.

  “But you believe in them?” She stares me down.

  “Of course,” I say.

  She nods solemnly, then heads for the door.

  Theresa listens to this, but she doesn’t say a word. Her shoulders are in a monumental slump. “We didn’t find out anything. There is nothing here.” She waves her EVEDENSE pad at me. “What are we going to do now, Moose?”

  “Do I have to know everything?”

  Theresa nods her head.

  “I guess we’ll put Jimmy’s cockroach messengers to the test.”

  Theresa sighs. “I’ve never depended on a cockroach before.”

  “No,” I say, “me neither.”

  11. The Best Pitching Arm

  Tuesday, January 21, 1936

  If the first day my dad starts his job, they burn our apartment down, I don’t want to consider what’s next. Luckily I was so tired last night, I couldn’t think about anything.

  We slept at the Chudleys’, and from the ragged way my dad looks this morning, I can tell Natalie didn’t sleep. Which means my parents took turns staying up with her, because you never know with Natalie if she’ll decide to take a midnight swim in the bay or flush the toilet until it overflows or take a walk and never come back.

  “Hey, Dad,” I say as my father boosts himself up onto the counter and starts rummaging through the shelves looking for coffee.

  “Do you need help with Natalie today?” I’m angling to stay home. I want to figure out how the fire started while the “crime scene” is still fresh.

  “Yes, but it’s more important that you go to school,” he answers. He jumps off the counter, no coffee in hand.

  “My homework was due yesterday and now it’s gone. That paper I spent so much time on, remember? The one on President Roosevelt.”

  “Our apartment burned down, Moose. Your teacher will understand.”

  “What if she makes me do it over again?”

  “Then you’ll do it over again. If that’s the only bad thing that comes of this, we should consider ourselves lucky.”

  “Are you sure you don’t need help with Natalie?” I ask as he slides his arm into his jacket.

  “Moose.” He rubs his chin, and makes a face like he’s surprised to feel whiskers there.

  “Okay, okay,” I sigh, then grab my glove. May as well head for the dock now. It’s early, but I’m ready to leave, and there’s usually a few guys playing ball on South field before the first bell rings.

  The air is damp and the sky is so packed with fog, you can’t even see Angel Island. Only a few patches of blue sky peek through overhead. When I get to the dock, Theresa is hopping down the 64 building stairs, banging her lunch pail against her legs.

  “You’re taking the early boat?” I ask.

  “Piper needs her messenger.” She nods toward Piper, who is just coming through the sally port.

  “Why are you on the early boat?” I ask when she’s in hearing range.

  “Leadership,” she answers with a smug smile.

  “Leadership, huh? You teaching them the Al Capone model for influencing people?”

  “Very funny.”

  “No really . . . maybe you could write a book.”

  “Donny!” Theresa says the name like it’s everybody’s favorite song.

  “Hey Moose.” He tips his hat at me as the foghorn booms so loud, you can feel the vibrations in your feet. “How are you doing this morning, buddy?”

  “Okay,” I say.

  He nods. “Early for school, isn’t it?”

  “I’m gonna play a little ball before the bell,” I say.

  “I heard you play first base.” Donny speaks just to me.

  How did he know?

  “So are you good?” he asks.

  The blood rises to my face. “I’m decent.”

  He nods like he’s a judge deciding on this, then smiles, his dimples deepening. “Thought you might be able to give me a few pointers.”

  Donny Caconi wants pointers from me. I know h
e’s trying to pump me up after my place burned down and everything, but still.

  “Sure,” I say.

  He and Piper and Theresa are all watching me now.

  Donny puts his hand in his pants pocket, then takes it out again. When his fingers open, I’m expecting something dazzling and miraculous, but all he has are bottle caps.

  He jingles them in his hand. “Think you could throw one of these puppies past that barrel?” He points at a red drum barrel halfway across the dock.

  “Course, but could we use a baseball?” I’m itching to show him how well I throw. Nobody can throw a bottle cap as well as a baseball.

  “You have one?” he asks.

  “Sure. Oh. No. All I have is my glove.”

  “Baseball in your old place?”

  I nod.

  “Too bad, buddy. For now let’s just use these.” He jingles the bottle caps again. “They’ll do in a pinch. Okay with you?” He waits for my nod.

  The drum isn’t that far away. I don’t see how either of us could miss. “I got two bucks says I can throw one of these puppies past the barrel from right here.” His shiny toe taps the ground.

  “Two bucks?” I mumble. Who has that kind of money?

  “How much, then?” he asks.

  My face heats up. “Um, uhhh.”

  Piper moves in. She’s dressed in her best Leadership clothes. A white blouse and dark bow that matches her skirt. “I can chip in.”

  “Me too! I have money! Me!” Theresa raises her arm and swings it wildly. She hands Donny a dime.

  “Will you look at that.” Donny includes everyone in his dimpled smile. “You got fans.”

  I wiggle my hand in my pocket and find the nickel I’ve had there since Piper first told me she needed flowers.

  “Come on, Moose, don’t be a chicken.” Piper gives Donny a dollar. A dollar? That’s a lot, even for her.

  “I guess your girlfriend here thinks you can do it.” Donny nods toward Piper.

  Piper’s cheeks get pink as cotton candy. “I’m not his girlfriend,” she mutters.

  Donny laughs. “She’s not your girlfriend,” he whispers to me, eyeing her all the while.

  “I only have a nickel,” I say.

  “No problem, we’ll work with what you got. I’ll match your bet.” Donny raises his hands in surrender. “Got two bucks, thirty cents says you can get this cap past the barrel and I can’t.”

  “What if we both make it?” I ask.

  “You’ll get the whole kitty: two bucks, thirty cents.”

  “So wait. I get all the money if we both get it past? That doesn’t seem fair.”

  Donny nods. “Be worth it to see how you do things. Your arm in action. Be an education.”

  Theresa frowns. “Moose could show you without a bet.”

  “Sure,” I say, the pressure in my chest easing.

  Donny shakes his head. “You should be paid for your time. Make it worth your while,” he tells me like he’s my coach.

  “Hey, thanks,” I say, standing up a little straighter. He’s probably just doing this on account of he feels bad for me, but I like it anyway.

  “It’s not that far,” Piper adds, eyeing the drum. “Even I could make it.”

  “I don’t think so, boss,” Theresa tells her.

  Donny nods to Piper, talking to her as if she’s somebody too. “You want to bet on Moose or on yourself?”

  “Moose,” Theresa answers for her.

  Donny’s eyes don’t leave Piper’s face. “I asked Piper.”

  “Moose,” Piper says.

  “Looks like she’s your girlfriend to me,” Donny whispers. “All right then.” He takes a small piece of white chalk out of his pocket and marks an X on the dock boards. “You go first.”

  Donny sinks back on his heels. “Call me a fool. I mean, you guys play all the time, but I’m gonna give it a shot.” He smiles. “You first, Moose. Got to see what I’m up against.”

  I put my feet on the X, take a bottle cap from his cool palm, and pitch it hard and fast in a direct line. It hits the wood, bounces once, then stops next to the drum. Not a bad throw. Not bad at all.

  “Made it,” I say.

  “Nice,” Donny says. “But it didn’t go past.”

  “It’s even with it. Not past it,” Theresa agrees.

  My stomach sinks. First I fall asleep when I’m supposed to be babysitting, then I can’t execute a simple throw. What’s the matter with me? A warden’s kid is supposed to be better than this. Still, if I can’t do it, I doubt Donny will be able to either.

  Donny takes his hat off, smoothes his hair back. “Might as well face the music here.” He fingers the bottle cap.

  Donny looks carefully at the drum, winds up, but doesn’t let go, winds up again and lets it fly. I’m pretty sure from the way his arm moves, I’ve got him beat, but the bottle cap cuts through the air like a skipping stone. It arcs higher than mine and lands a good five feet farther. Clearly beyond the drum.

  “Would you look at that? You really are a good teacher! Then again, probably just dumb luck,” Donny says. “What say we try again? Double or nothing.”

  I shake my head a firm no.

  “You sure?” Donny asks. “You almost had me. I got lucky is all. Bottle caps threw you off your game. Takes a time or two to get used to them is all. We’ll try your baseball next time.” He shoves his hand in his pocket and jingles the change in there. “I’m not going to keep your money. We’ll chalk it up to practice.”

  “It’s only fair. We had a bet. Moose lost,” Piper says.

  I wish she would keep her mouth shut. Maybe she’s got money to burn, but the rest of us don’t.

  “He’s going to be a man about it too. Honor his bets. Moose is a stand-up guy.” Donny smiles at me.

  “Don’t you want some more tips from him?” Theresa asks.

  “Sure thing.” Donny pulls the brim of his hat down low. “But we got to get on the boat here, missy,” he says.

  We all look out to where the bow of the Coxe is cutting through the fog toward us.

  This was all just a distraction to make me feel better and we both know it. He’ll return our money. Course he will. But when the ferry puts down the gangplank, he gets on without looking back.

  12. Just Plain Mean

  Tuesday, January 21, 1936

  By the time I get to school, Piper has told every last person about the fire. The trouble is, nobody believes it was an accident. Every kid is sure it was Al Capone who burned our place down. We didn’t do what he said. We didn’t treat him right. We didn’t buy him cigars or silk underwear or cannolis and he got mad.

  The rumors are out of hand. By the end of the day, Piper has everyone believing the fire consumed all of Alcatraz, and the prisoners are on a boat floating in the bay—waiting to attack the city.

  Even Mrs. Twiggs is impressed. But when I tell her what really happened, she lets me know how sorry she is, then tells me I will need to redo my paper and turn it in next week. Piper, on the other hand, gets a free ride and her house was nowhere near the fire. “Every student is different. Some are more fragile than others. Piper is quite sensitive,” Mrs. Twiggs explains when I take it up with her.

  Piper . . . sensitive? I think I’m going to be sick.

  On the ferry home, I tell Jimmy all about what happened with school and then about Donny and the bottle caps.

  “So he outthrew you?” Jimmy asks.

  “Pretty much,” I say.

  “With bottle caps?”

  “I wanted to use a ball, but I didn’t have one.”

  “And he kept the money?”

  I look out at the water, green as seaweed today. “I’m sure he’ll give it back next time we see him. He’s not going to take mone
y from us.”

  Jimmy nods uncertainly. “I’ve seen you throw a million times. I can’t imagine he can throw better than you can.”

  It’s true. Donny’s throw wasn’t that great, but I’m not going to say this out loud. Even to Jimmy. It makes me sound like I’m full of myself.

  Instead, I change the subject. “When are we going to try the cockroaches?” I ask.

  “I got Saturday off. We can do it then.” Jimmy works really hard. He doesn’t get money, either, just credit for the Mattamans’ groceries. Even so, the Mattamans seem to have less money than anyone else.

  I’m not wild about waiting until Saturday, and I’m concerned about pinning all of my hopes on a few scummy bugs. “Could you get a day off before then?”

  “Did you forget who I work for?” he asks.

  I can’t even imagine having Bea Trixle for a boss. She’s almost as bad as Darby. Bea and Darby Trixle deserve each other.

  Once the boat docks, I say goodbye to Jimmy and head up the switchback. I’d like to work a bit more on the Janet angle. I know Janet is a good kid, she would never have started a fire on purpose; but it could have happened accidentally.

  It won’t be so easy to run into Janet now, though. I’m not going to knock on her door and risk coming face-to-face with Bea or Darby. When we lived in 64 building, I saw Janet more, but now that we’re parked at the Chudleys’ I probably won’t.

  I don’t like living at the Chudley house. When I want to play ball, I have to walk all the way down to 64 to get Annie, then back up to the parade grounds to play. Plus, it’s lonely up there. We have the same mournful gulls, the same lonely foghorn, but it all seems creepier when you’re catawampus to the cell house.

  My father says the task force is still inspecting #2E. He says it will be at least two weeks until we can move back even with the crew of convict carpenters working overtime. I don’t like to think about felons pawing through my stuff, but I’ll deal with it if that’s how we’ll get back home.

  The big question is will Nat ever be able to sleep up here. With no sleep, she gets touchy—almost explosive, and everybody treats her like she’s made of cut paper. Then my parents start dragging around like they haven’t slept since last Thanksgiving.