Free Al Capone Shines My Shoes by Gennifer Choldenko

me, boss.”
    My father frowns. “Say hello, Moose.”
    “Hello,” I parrot like I’m Natalie.
    Capone angles his chin in the direction of Doc Ollie’s office. “I heard you brought the Mattaman baby in. He doin’ okay?”
    “Looks that way.” My father points his toothpick toward the shoes. “Who you doin’ those for?”
    “Officer Trixle,” Capone says. “Got me a special touch. You know that.”
    My father snorts his disapproval.
    “They like to tell people their shoes been shined up all nice by me. Looks like yours need some shining there, boss. Could do your boy’s too.” Capone winks at me.
    “No thanks,” my father answers.
    Capone seems to take this in. “They gonna give me a roommate in here, boss?”
    “Wouldn’t know ’bout that.”
    “Just as soon be on my own. One or two guys don’t like me too much.”
    “Like I said, I don’t know. Depends on who’s sick,” my father says.
    “Is that so?” Capone stares hard at my dad. “Seems to me a man’s got as much power as he can wrap his mind around.”
    “Is that how it seems to you?”
    “You bet. And I’ve done good for myself. I don’t mind saying.”
    “Until now.”
    Capone chuckles. “Minor setback. Now your boy here . . . he don’t know his own strength, but he sure can keep his head on straight when the pressure is on.” He points at me with his big beefy hand. “When I get out, you look me up. I got a job waiting for you.”
    “He will do no such thing,” my father snarls.
    Al laughs a good long laugh, deep down in his belly. “Don’t you worry, boss. You got yourself a good boy there. Kinda person keeps up his end of a deal.” Al leans in so close the bars press against his face. “I’d be mighty proud if you were my boy,” he says.
    “Say goodbye, Moose,” my father barks, stepping between Capone and me.
    “Goodbye, Mr. Capone,” I say to Al’s big beaming face. I turn and follow my father down the hallway, the smell of shoe polish strong in my nose.
    I’m almost out of Capone’s sight when I hear it. The words drift to me in a whispery voice. “Bye, son,” he says.

10.
    A DANGEROUS GAME
    Same day—Thursday, August 15, 1935
     
     
     
     
    It isn’t until I’m heading down the cell house hospital stairs into the fresh air that it really hits me. I just met Al Capone, the most powerful gangster ever to live. He called me son !
    My skin tingles as my mind replays his words. Seems to me a man’s got as much power as he can wrap his mind around. He was talking about my dad. He thought my dad had the power to make sure he didn’t have a cellmate.
    And that other bit about a person who keeps up his end of things? That was a message for me. He expects me to get his wife flowers. No doubt about that.
    My father looks at me. “It’s a shame he went bad. Could have used somebody like that on our side. Who knows, he might have been mayor, president even.”
    “He’d a got my vote,” I admit.
    “I noticed that.” My dad motions with his head toward the cell house. “You gotta watch the cons like him—the ones with brains. Starts innocent enough. He shines your shoes. Pretty soon, he wants something for his efforts. A stick of gum maybe. You gonna give it to him? Well, you owe him now . . .” He sucks his cheek in, watches a pelican fly over our heads. “Maybe you say no and he tells you, get the gum or he’ll make certain the warden finds out he’s been shining your shoes. So you get him his gum. Now he has two things on you. What does he do then? He ups the ante . . . that’s what.”
    I’m shrinking. I have lost eight inches in height and begun to sweat so much my skin is slippery clear down to my shoes. My father has nailed me and he doesn’t even know it.
    “Moral of the story?” my father continues. “Shine your own shoes, you don’t have to worry about any of that.” He smiles at me.
    “What about Trixle?” I ask in a wobbly voice.
    My father cracks his neck. “Doesn’t mean