Al Capone Does My Shirts Read online

  I look up at the blue sky and pray for a sudden storm or a big earthquake.

  “Did your old team have uniforms? Hey, wouldn’t that be something? Uniforms and everything, but how do we pay for them?”

  I open my mouth to tell him, then I close it again. All day long I try, but the words won’t come out. By the time the last bell rings, I still haven’t managed to say anything. Maybe I just won’t show up. Tell Scout I came down with a sudden case of the chicken pox. But that’s a rotten thing to do. I’m not a liar and I’m not a rat.

  Now Scout’s outside of his French class, talking to Piper. Since when does he talk to Piper?

  “Hey, Moose,” Piper says. “Scout here has just been telling me you’re quite the baseball player. He says you’re a lot more coordinated than you look.”

  “That’s not what I said,” Scout says.

  “That’s what you meant, though.” Piper’s long hair hangs in her slanty eyes. Her sweater is buttoned at the top and she has her gloves on.

  “What do you want?” I ask.

  “What do I want? Nothing. We were just chatting. Right, Scout?”

  Scout nods. He smiles at her, then looks at me, then back at Piper. He shrugs. “She was telling me about those convict baseballs.”

  “Exactly.” Piper smiles, pleased with herself. “By the way”—she lowers her voice—“we’re divvying up the earnings at the dock tomorrow and you are getting exactly nothing.”

  “ ’Bout time you gave Jimmy and Annie their cut. What you been doing with the money, anyway . . . laundering it?”

  “Very funny,” she says.

  “I gotta go,” Scout says. “Bye, Piper. Meet you there, Moose.” He starts running, which is how he gets everywhere. I don’t think he knows how to walk.

  “Actually, I can’t come today,” I finally blurt out, my voice barely breaking a whisper.

  Scout stops. He turns around. “What?” he asks.

  “I can’t exactly come today,” I mutter.

  Scout stares at me. Piper does too.

  “Why not?”

  “I gotta look after my sister.”

  “So? Get someone else to watch her. That’s what I did.”

  I shake my head.

  “Piper,” Scout says, “will you watch Moose’s little sister?”

  Piper snorts. “Not hardly.”

  “Why not?”

  Piper looks at me. She seems to be thinking what to say. “Because.” She answers as if this explains it.

  “Well, get somebody. I changed all of this for you, you know.”

  “I know,” I squeak.

  Scout makes a sound like he’s in pain. “What about next Tuesday?”

  “Can’t then either.” I stare out at the field where a line of girls are practicing archery in their white blouses and long plaid skirts.

  “When can you play?”

  “Lunch.” The word croaks out of me. I can’t look him in the eye.

  “Lunch?” Scout shakes his head. He slams his book on the ground. Picks it up and slams it down again. “What am I supposed to tell everyone?”

  “That I’m sorry.”

  “That you’re sorry?” His mouth hangs open. He waits for me to say something.

  There’s nothing to say.

  He picks up his book. “Fine. But don’t expect to play on my team again.”

  I go home like I’m supposed to, but the second my mom leaves, I let Natalie get her buttons and I give her as much lemon cake as she wants. I’m not sorry about it either.

  19. Daddy’s Little Miss

  Wednesday, January 16, 1935

  The next day at school Scout treats me like a post made of cement. At lunch I don’t even bother going to the cafeteria. I head for the library and eat by myself. Scout’s the only real friend I’ve made so far and apparently I’ve lost him already.

  When I get home, I write a letter to Pete. I’m searching for an envelope when Theresa knocks on the door. “Come on,” she says, “Piper’s giving out the money!”

  “I’m not getting any,” I tell her.

  “Yeah, but we’ll get candy.”

  “Candy?” Natalie asks.

  “Annie will buy some at the store. And for sure she’ll give us some. Now, come on. You can bring your buttons, Nat,” Theresa says.

  What else am I going to do . . . sit inside with Natalie all afternoon?

  When we get down to the dock, Jimmy, Annie and Piper are already there. Nat gets right to work matching buttons to feathers to stones like this is her assignment.

  “Natalie,” Piper calls.

  Deep in button mode, Natalie doesn’t answer.

  “Natalie,” Piper tries again.

  “What do you want with her?” I ask, sticking my face in Piper’s face.

  “Simmer down, buster. I’m just asking her to help me count.”

  “I don’t think she’s—” I start to say.

  “Numbers Nat, we need you!” Theresa interrupts.

  Natalie looks up.

  Piper hands Nat the money, rolled up in a handkerchief. “Three dollars and twenty cents split four—excuse me.” Piper looks at me. “Three ways.”

  “One dollar six cents, two cents left over.” Natalie rocks with pleasure.

  “Extra two cents goes to me,” Piper says as Natalie counts out each share.

  Annie and Jimmy discuss what they’ll do with the money. A dollar and six cents buys a whole Italian dinner in North Beach plus a double feature at the movies or a month of swims at Fleishhaker’s Pool or a bunch of rides on the streetcars—the dinkies, as Annie calls them.

  I’m just wondering how much they get for Seals tickets when Mr. Trixle appears out of nowhere. Everyone freezes. Piper’s money is put away. Annie’s and Jimmy’s piles are still out.

  “Piper, Moose, Jimmy and Annie,” he barks, “the warden wants to see you in his library.”

  Me? I didn’t do anything. I form the words with my lips, but keep the sound inside.

  Theresa takes off her roller skates, but then begins to cry because she can’t find her shoes. Jimmy starts hollering at Theresa to shut up. A group of moms and toddlers who have overheard Mr. Trixle’s command stare at us, their mouths hanging open. Annie clutches her homework against her chest. She looks even paler than usual.

  “You don’t have to come,” I tell Theresa. “He didn’t call you.”

  “I have to come. Who’s going to get you out of trouble?” Theresa says, walking in her two sock feet.

  “I’m not in trouble. I didn’t do anything,” I say.

  “He called your name,” Theresa says, her whole face scrunched up. “Come on, Nat.” She stoops down to Nat’s level. “Moose’s in trouble. We gotta go.”

  Natalie in the warden’s office. My mom is going to love this!

  “Leave your buttons,” I tell Nat. She has most of them out now. If I wait for her to put them back, it will take hours.

  “Yeah, Nat, we need you,” Theresa says.

  “Natalie help. One dollar, six cents. Two cents left.” Nat nods to herself, following us. I shake my head in wonder. It’s almost as if Nat’s a part of our group.

  We hike up the steep switchback road in silence. The wind blows the eucalyptus trees, a buoy clangs, a boat horn toots, Natalie drags her toes.

  We climb the steps in Piper’s house and file into the warden’s library. The warden stares at each of us as we sit down. He says nothing for the longest time. The silence presses down on me. I didn’t do anything. It wasn’t me, I want to yell.

  When he finally speaks, his voice is very low. “I am so disappointed. I can’t even begin to tell you how disappointed I am.”

  Outside, the gulls are arguing. They sound loud, even through the window. I glance down at Natalie, who is sitting on the floor, running her hand over the spines of the books.

  The warden looks at each of us. He takes a pair of small gold spectacles out of his shirt pocket and flicks them open. Out of his pants pocket, he removes a
n envelope. All of his motions are slow and deliberate. He unfolds the letter and begins to read.

  Dear Warden Williams,

  My son, Del Junior, goes to school with your daughter, Piper Williams. On Tuesday, Del came home from school without his shirt.

  When I asked him where it was, he said his shirt was to be laundered by the notorious gangster inmate Al Capone. Of course, I thought his imagination had the best of him. But when he explained the details of the operation, I began to see that the idea was simply too preposterous to have been made up.

  It’s bad enough that the great city of San Francisco should suffer the indignity of a maximum security federal penitentiary in its midst without being subject to these sorts of sick and dangerous shenanigans. I am appalled by the extremely poor taste and unseemly behavior of your daughter and her friends. I certainly hope you take greater care in monitoring the activities of your prisoners than you do in watching your own flesh and blood.

  Out of courtesy to you and your long and distinguished association with my brother, Judge Thomas Thornboy, and the San Francisco Rotary Club, I am addressing this letter to you in confidence. But if I should hear anything of this nature again, my next letter will go directly to the San Francisco Chronicle and the mayor’s office, respectively.

  Thank you for your prompt attention to this matter.

  Sincerely,

  Mrs. Del S. Peabody III.

  It’s so silent in the room, I can hear the air go in and out of people’s noses. Warden Williams folds his glasses and returns them to his jacket pocket.

  “Let’s start with some explanations. Annie Bomini?”

  Annie’s face is so red, it makes her eyebrows look almost white. Her shoulders are slumped and her leg is twitching. Her homework is still clutched against her chest like her arm is permanently stuck that way. “I didn’t sell the shirts. I put them through with our laundry. It was Piper’s idea.”

  The warden’s eyebrows wag. He rolls his tongue over his teeth. “The one thing I’ve never had patience for is a person who blames someone else to lessen her own culpability. I can’t tell you how disappointed I am to see you behave this way, young lady.” The warden stares Annie down. “Piper speaks so highly of you.”

  “She’s not usually like this, Daddy.” Piper lowers her voice and steps closer to her father.

  “Like what?” I ask. “She said the truth.”

  Jimmy stands up. “Yep,” he says, and sits down again.

  The warden looks like someone has poked a pick in his side. His hand shakes. He steadies himself on the bookshelf and then his eyes go cold and hard like something sealed in ice.

  “Apparently I can’t trust you children any more than I can hardened criminals. Well, fine. I’ll handle this like I would an uprising in the cell house. All of you will be punished without exception.”

  “Even me?” Theresa’s voice is quavering.

  “Theresa didn’t do anything, sir,” Jimmy mumbles.

  “Neither did Moose,” Theresa says.

  “One dollar and six cents. One dollar and six cents. Two pennies left over,” Natalie says.

  “What?” The warden looks from Jimmy to Theresa to Natalie.

  “Shh, Nat,” I say.

  “Two pennies left over. Two pennies left over,” Natalie says like someone is arguing with her math.

  “What is she talking about?” the warden roars.

  “That’s the amount left over,” I say.

  “Left over from what?”

  “From what they earned,” Theresa says in a tiny voice.

  “EARNED?” the warden barks. “Don’t tell me this is about money! Money changed hands in this shenanigan?”

  No one says anything, but the quiet is clearly an answer. The warden looks at each of us. “Let’s have it. Right here.” He pounds his desk. “Every last cent.”

  Annie reaches in her pocket and pulls out her coins. Then Jimmy. Piper doesn’t move.

  Warden Williams looks at me.

  “I didn’t earn any money, sir,” I say.

  He glances at the pile of coins, mostly nickels.

  “Why do you think they’re locked up?” He cocks his head in the direction of the cell house. “Why do you suppose, Mr. Flanagan?”

  “They, uh . . .” I swallow hard. “Broke the laws.”

  The warden ignores me. He waits. “That’s right. Money motivated most of ’em. Is that how you want to end up?”

  “No, sir,” Annie and I say in unison.

  “I wasn’t born yesterday, you aren’t the first kids to break rules, but you will be the last children on this island to ever do anything like this again. There is nothing about this to be proud of.” He waves the letter in the air. “There may come a time in your life when you feel it’s your moral authority to challenge a rule. But that’s not what this is about. This is about greed and silliness and incredibly poor judgment. Do you have anything to say for yourself? Moose?”

  “Sir, I didn’t do anything. That’s what I’ve been trying—”

  “NO EXCUSES!” the warden roars so loud, even Natalie looks up.

  “How about you, Annie?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Jimmy?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Theresa?”

  “No, sir.”

  “If anything like this occurs again, all of your fathers will be dismissed without severance. Anybody know what severance is? Annie?”

  “Fired without pay,” Annie whispers.

  “That’s right, Annie,” the warden says. He watches her. Tries to pull her eyes to his eyes, but she will not look at him. She stares at her hands.

  “Shame on you,” he says in a velvet quiet tone. “Shame on all of you. Annie, how do you think your mother’s going to take this news? And for crying out loud, Jimmy, you think your family hasn’t had enough trouble. You really want your dad to be out of a job with that brand-spanking-new baby? Do you know how hard it is to feed five mouths in this world? Any of you?”

  Jimmy bites his lip. I can see the tears well up in him.

  “Moose, I expect more from you than this.”

  He expects more from me? I didn’t do anything.

  “I’ve seen how nice you are with your sister. But then you get involved with something like this.” He shakes his head. “I catch you doing anything . . . ANYTHING against the rules . . . I mean, you kids breathe wrong and you’ll be asked to leave.”

  “Yes, sir,” we all say.

  The warden straightens his coat. It is straight already, but he does it anyway, as if the discussion rumpled him. “I’ll be speaking to all of your parents about this. This money will be returned to your classmates. I will make those arrangements myself. Now get out of my sight, every one of you. And you, young lady.” He nods to Piper without looking at her. “I’m not finished with you yet.”

  As we file out of the office, I see Piper lean over and whisper to her father like she’s his buddy, not his daughter. The little slime. She’ll get out of this. She will.

  20. Warning

  Same day—Wednesday, January 16, 1935

  I feel bad for Jimmy and Annie. They’re going to really get it. I won’t, though. I’ll explain what happened to my dad. He’ll understand. He always does.

  We head to the parade grounds, but when we get to the turnoff, Natalie keeps plowing down toward the dock. Her buttons are there. How could I forget? Without any discussion, we follow her down.

  Theresa puts her skates on, but then just sits. Annie and I kick an old can around. Natalie picks up where she left off, matching buttons to feathers and stones. Jimmy begins building another machine. Every now and then he finds a rock he thinks Natalie might want and he puts it in a pile for her. Apparently he knows the kind she likes, because Natalie seems to give these stones a special place in her elaborate grid.

  I spin around and smack the can backward just for the heck of it. I turn back to see it sail ninety degrees the wrong direction and land right in the middle of
Nat’s button box, tipping it into her grid game.

  Natalie freezes.

  I race over there. “I’m sorry, Nat, I’m so sorry.” I kneel down, throw the can away and try to put the buttons back as fast as I can.

  But it’s too late. Nat sits motionless. No one can be still like Natalie. She’s still like not even her blood is moving inside her.

  “Nat, we can make them like they were. It will be fun! Come on.” I pick up a smooth gray stone and try to think what Nat would match with this.

  But Natalie doesn’t look. She curls up into a tight little ball on the cement. Buttons, stones and feathers all around.

  Annie and Jimmy are kneeling with me now.

  “Nat,” I say gently. “I’m sorry. We’ll help you put them back. We’ll make them just like before.” A fly lands on her cheek. Natalie doesn’t flinch. Annie shoos it away.

  “Come on, Natalie, it’s okay.” Annie tries too. She makes her voice soothing and sweet.

  But Natalie doesn’t move.

  “Nat, we’ll be careful. It won’t happen again. Look! Birds, nine birds!” I point to one lone gull pecking the ground.

  But she doesn’t look. And then Theresa skates over.

  “Natalie,” Theresa commands, “it’s okay. I’m here now.”

  But Natalie has gone away somewhere deep inside. Only her body is left, rolled up tight and completely still.

  Theresa and I put her buttons back as best we can, arguing over where they should go. Annie shoos flies from Natalie. Jimmy keeps on building his machine, though every few minutes he adds another stone to Natalie’s pile.

  We sit with her. Annie and Theresa, Jimmy and me. Keep her company wherever she’s gone.

  That is the way my mom finds us when she gets off the boat, her music bag over her shoulder.

  “Moose!” My mother looks at Natalie and then me. “What happened? What’s the matter?” She runs toward us.