Al Capone Shines My Shoes (11 page)

“Who are you addressing, Natalie?” Sadie barks. “When I have . . . ”

Nat doesn’t respond.

Sadie motions for us to be silent. We wait a painfully long time and then suddenly Nat offers: “When I have a Sadie nice day, I get a new button.”

“Good, Natalie!” Sadie’s voice is buoyant.

Nat rubs her hand over one of her sewn-on buttons.

“Maybe you’ll get more buttons,” Annie offers. “When you come home next weekend, maybe you’ll have more.”

“More buttons, more,” Natalie repeats. “I am—”

“I am what?” Sadie pounces on this beginning. Her face is up close to Nat’s.

But Natalie lets it drop. Whatever she is right now, she isn’t going to say.

“What we’re working on here, Moose,” Sadie explains, “is keeping her engaged and a part of the conversation. We can’t let her float off into her own world.”

“She doesn’t float off in her own world
with me
,” Theresa says proudly.

Sadie smiles. “You’re the neighbor girl, right?”

Theresa beams. “Do you want to play button checkers?” she asks Natalie, laying out her hand-drawn checkerboard.

Natalie touches each button as Theresa sets it out. When she finishes, she starts again, following the exact same pattern of touching as before. When she’s done this time, she nods, almost to herself, and she and Theresa play.

After Natalie has won two games—even with our coaching, Theresa is no match for her—she begins twisting the buttons on her dress one way, then the other.

“I am—I am—” Nat’s voice is stiff with unnatural pauses. She drags her toe against the carpet and against the carpet again. Her eyes move back and forth in her head like she’s trying to make the room spin away.

Sadie looks up from her paperwork. “I am what?” she asks.

“I am . . . Natalie angry,” Nat says in the same mechanical way.

“She says she’s angry,” Theresa explains.

“I am angry,” Sadie corrects.

“I am angry,” Natalie repeats.

“Yes, you surely are,” Sadie says, her eyes keen and clear on Natalie. “Who are you angry with?”

Natalie’s head goes down again. She pinches the skin of her arm. “Angry at Mommy. Angry at Moose.”

“Me? What did I do?” I ask.

Nat doesn’t answer.

“You made her say that,” I tell Sadie before I can stop myself.

“I did nothing of the kind,” Sadie replies.

“Moose,” Annie warns in a low voice.

“Why is she angry?” I ask.

“You just left her in this place,” Annie murmurs.

“Yeah, but it’s for her own good,” I shoot back defensively.

“Doesn’t mean she won’t be angry,” Annie explains.

“Okay, okay,” I say. “But I don’t think she’s really mad
at me.
”

“I sure would be mad at you if you sent me away.” Theresa makes puppy dog eyes.

“You don’t understand,” I insist.

“We ask an awful lot of our students here, Moose.” Sadie neatens her stack of paperwork. “When you’ve spent your whole life one way, it isn’t easy to change. We are proud of how well Natalie is doing with us. She’s made a remarkable start.”

“Yeah,” Annie whispers, “she has.”

“She’s trying. I hope you see that. Part of what we’re striving for here is to give Natalie a way to control herself. Because once those blades inside her get to spinning, it’s just too hard for her to stop herself.”

“Why is she mad at
me
though?” I demand. “Natalie never gets mad at me. Natalie, you never get mad at me,” I tell her.

“Natalie never gets mad at me,” Natalie echoes.

“Use your words, Natalie.
Your
words, not someone else’s. I . . . I . . .” Sadie opens her mouth and enunciates in a way that makes me want to slap her face.

“Moose . . .” Nat dips her chin down before Sadie can stop her. “Moose, I missed Moose,” she says in a voice so low I almost don’t hear it.

15.

MAE CAPONE IS A LOOKER

 

 

 

 

We’re almost to the field where Scout plays. Actually, we’re almost to the field where Scout doesn’t play. My plan is to see that Scout isn’t there, get some roses, and somehow manage to convince Theresa to give them to Mae without Annie knowing. I try to focus on this and not on Natalie. But Nat’s words have crawled inside my head:
Moose, I missed Moose.

What was so disturbing about seeing her today was I suddenly realized how hard she was trying. I thought she didn’t try. But it’s much more upsetting to realize she actually does try. She tries very hard for what seems like such a small result.

I force myself to stop thinking about this. Right now I’ve got to figure out how to keep Al Capone from hunting me down. I can’t allow myself to think about anything else.

I’m just turning my plan around in my head when two girls in white gloves and hats start waving wildly to Annie.

“Dolores! Peggy!” Annie hurries to catch up with them. The girls’ heads cluster together like three birds with one cracker. They peek up at me and duck down again for more whispering.

“Is it? Is it him?” I hear one ask.

Annie blushes all the way down to the roots of her yellow-moon-colored hair.

I look around to see who they’re talking about. Theresa skips over to the girls to find out what’s going on.

Annie’s still-pink face appears. “Moose. These are my friends Dolores”—she points to the one with buckteeth—“and Peggy.” She nods to the short girl.

I raise my hand in a wooden wave and drop it again.

Dolores and Peggy smile at Annie like they’re all in on a secret.

“We better get going,” I tell Annie.

“Have fun, Annie,” Peggy giggles.

“Yeah, Annie,” Dolores, the one with the buckteeth, chimes in.

Now wouldn’t it be nice if Annie decided to go off with them. I can’t imagine how I’ll get Theresa to help me with Annie around.

No such luck. Annie stays.

How am I going to do this? I could leave the roses for Mae in the visitors’ section of the boat, but with Mae Capone on board, won’t there be extra officers on the
Coxe
? There always are on visitors’ day, and I’ll bet there will be twice as many when the visitor is Scarface’s wife. Trixle will be there for certain. He’d never miss this. I can just imagine what would happen if he found the roses.

Theresa skips ahead. I walk with Annie.

“Where do you guys play exactly?” Annie asks, looking down the long expanse of grass at the Marina Green.

“On a back street a few minutes from here,” I tell her.

“You know, Moose, I’ve been thinking . . . are you sure Al Capone got her in that school? It doesn’t look like a gangland operation to me,” Annie says.

“Which would look how?” I ask, stepping off the curb to avoid the man selling apples. This is what men do when they can’t get work. If I get caught, will this happen to my father?

“More silk and whiskey. Glamorous stuff . . . you know. No way Capone had anything to do with that place.”

“Maybe not. I don’t know if I like the place, anyway. I don’t like it when they put words in her mouth,” I confess.

“You just didn’t like what Natalie had to say. The place is good for her, Moose. Trust me,” Annie says.

Trust her,
right
. Everybody thinks they know what’s best for Natalie: religion, leafy green vegetables, stricter discipline, ice compresses, voodoo. I’ve heard it all. But wait a minute, if Annie thinks the Esther P. Marinoff School is the right place for Natalie, maybe she’ll have changed her mind about telling.

“So you don’t want to wreck it for Natalie?” My voice squeaks hopefully.

“It was a mistake is all. That’s what I think,” Annie declares. “I heard my dad talking to my uncle Tony when we drove down to San Mateo yesterday. I was in the rumble seat. They thought I was asleep. My dad said he played chess with Buddy Boy when Buddy was in the hospital. Buddy’s a great chess player and so is my dad.”

Guards aren’t supposed to play chess with inmates. That I know for sure.

“They had to be quiet, so they passed notes to let each other know stuff.
Done. Your turn.
Doesn’t that sound like the kind of notes you pass in a game? They must have gotten in your laundry by mistake.”

“Maybe,” I reply, scratching a hive on my elbow. I would have totally believed it was possible if I hadn’t received the note about Mae and the roses. There’s no way
that
was about a chess game, but I’m not about to tell Annie this. “Who won?” I ask.

“Buddy.” Annie’s eyes are hopeful. “I think it was all an accident,” she confides.

I look up from where I’ve been clawing my elbow. “So you’ll play baseball with me on Alcatraz?”

Annie squints at me. “You haven’t gotten any other notes, have you?”

I can’t lie about this. Not to Annie. I look down the quiet backstreet. A ragman calls in the distance. A milkman knocks on a door. A cluster of girls plays jacks on the street. “This is where we play,” I announce.

“
Here?
” Annie is incredulous.

“I told you he wouldn’t be here today,” I say, hoping Annie won’t notice I didn’t answer her question about the notes.

Theresa bounces back to us. “If he’s not here, we should go find him. Can we, Moose? Can we?”

“There’s no time,” I tell Theresa. “I gotta get back. I promised my mom. And I have to buy flowers.”

Theresa’s mouth pulls to one side. “But we woulda had time to play though. That would have taken time,” she reasons.

“Yeah, but Scout lives pretty far from here. We don’t have time to go get him and then play.” I’m pleased with how this comes out. It sounds like I know what I’m talking about.

“You’re going to buy flowers? For Piper?” Annie asks.

I’d planned to say my mom, but suddenly Piper sounds like a better idea, mostly because I have never in my life bought my mom flowers. Not that I’d buy them for Piper, but it does seem more likely.

This lying business is a lot more complicated than it looks.

“Yeah,” I say.

“Ohhhhh!” Theresa’s eyes seek Annie’s.

“It’s a good idea,” Annie tells me. “She’s mad at you, you know.”

“Tell me about it,” I say.

“Don’t worry. She’s mad at the world right now. My mom says it’s because she’s been the apple of her dad’s eye and now all he ever talks about is how much he wants a son. Piper won’t do well as second fiddle.” The corners of Annie’s mouth sneak up a little.

“So where are we getting the flowers?” Theresa wants to know.

“Let’s walk down Union. Probably a flower stand there.”

We walk about six blocks and don’t find anything. So Annie goes into a butcher shop and asks. The butcher directs us to a small stand, no bigger than an outhouse. They have roses: red, yellow, and pink. My gut pinches when I see how expensive they are. How can something you can just pick cost so much? I don’t have enough for a dozen, but I can buy a half dozen. Will that be enough?

“What color?” Annie asks.

“Yellow,” I tell the man behind the counter.

“I’d go with red. Yellow is friendship. Red is,
you know
. . .” Annie moves her almost-white eyebrows up and down.

“That’s why I want yellow,” I insist.

Carefully I take my bat, ball, and glove out of the bag and set the yellow roses inside. I don’t want Darby Trixle or any of the other officers to see I’m carrying them. I wonder if Annie will comment about this, but she doesn’t say a word.

The closer we get to the water, the worse my hives itch. This Annie notices. “What are you scratching so much for? You allergic to flowers?”

“Hey look.” Theresa points to the dock at Fort Mason where we catch the boat back to Alcatraz. Maybe fifty or a hundred people are milling around like ants in a sugar bowl. A man standing on a barrel waves his arms and calls out, “Mae Capone, the wife of public enemy number one. She’s right here, folks. Don’t miss this. Gonna visit her hubby on the Rock. She’s quite the beauty too. C’mon, folks, Mae Capone right here.”

Theresa grabs my arm. “Did you hear that? Mae Capone! C’mon!”

But I’m not thinking about Mae. I’m thinking about Al. The man is stark raving mad. How am I supposed to give his wife flowers with all these people around? The place is swarming with reporters. They’d probably snap my picture as I give them to her. Then I’ll be in the morning papers. That’s just what I need. The warden would fire my father in a heartbeat.

I can’t get Theresa to hand Mae the roses either. If her picture gets in the paper, she’ll get in trouble, same as I would. Didn’t Scarface know Mae would be mobbed like this?

A reporter in a gray suit leans toward us. He hands out business cards like he’s dealing from a deck. “You kids live on Alcatraz? What’s the word on Capone? We heard he’s got his own furniture up there, Oriental rugs and the whole nine yards.”

“Capone gonna bust right outta there. You heard it from me,” the man on the barrel shouts.

A man with a puffy nose waves his big hand in my face. “You live on the Rock?” He shoves a slip of paper at me as a guy stinking of cigarettes hurries past.

“A hot tip’s worth cash money to me.” A guy with hairy wrists folds my hand around his card.

“We can’t, sir. The warden won’t let us talk to reporters—” Annie tells him as the crowd presses in.

“She’s coming!” Theresa shouts. My pulse is growing louder like my own heart is getting closer to me.

A man scrambles over the back of another. A large woman picks a reporter up and moves him out of her way. A guy with a hat two sizes too small is shooting photos in a mad rush. Another man in a dark suit elbows in front of me.

“This is crazy. Let’s get on the boat.” Annie pulls Theresa and me past the buck sergeant, who checks us off on his clipboard. We scoot up the ramp and out of the fray. Back onto the boat, settling against the railing, we see the tops of everyone’s heads as they rush Mae Capone.