Free Al Capone Does My Shirts by Gennifer Choldenko Page A

some good news for you.” She’s smiling like she wants something. “Things are going to change around here.” My mom takes a lock of hair that’s supposed to be on one side of my part and puts it on the other.
    “Mom!” I raise my eyebrows. Sometimes she needs reminding that I’m not five anymore.
    She smiles and nods her head as if she understands she’s made a mistake, then gives me a once-over. “Have you grown out of your trousers?”
    I look down at my feet. A good four inches of sock are showing.
    “Go put your other ones on. The brown ones,” my mother says.
    I go in my room, happy to have an excuse to put a door between us.
    “I met with Carrie Kelly yesterday,” my mother calls through the door.
    “Oh.”
    “She says we need to do a clean sweep. Throw away Nat’s button box. They’ll be no more counting for her. No more obsessions.”
    My gut tightens. I come out with the brown corduroys on. “Mom.” I squeeze the word out of my throat.
    “Mrs. Kelly said we can’t let ourselves get in Natalie’s way. She said we’re the stumbling block. If Natalie’s going to change, we have to change first.”
    I blow air out of my mouth like I’m whistling with no sound. “So now it’s our fault?”
    “Moose,” my mother insists. “You know what I mean.”
    “You only met with her once, Mom. Did she even meet Natalie?”
    “Of course. She spent all afternoon with her,” my mom says, and then natters on about how Nat’s not supposed to count. Not supposed to rock. Not supposed to play with her buttons. Not supposed to do anything she actually likes to do.
    “Yes, ma’am,” I say, searching the medicine cabinet for my toothbrush. Then I figure out where it is . . . Natalie.
    My mother follows me as I march into Natalie’s room. Nat isn’t here. My father has taken her out to the parade grounds to give my mom a break.
    Yep, here’s the toothbrush. Natalie has stacks of buttons in perfect lines all around it, like little soldiers guarding something precious. I reach for my toothbrush, but I can’t make myself disturb her perfect button world.
    “Well, actually . . .” My mother’s voice has softened. There’s a wheedle in it now. I freeze, my hand on Nat’s door.
    “This involves you. I’ve lined up some piano lessons to teach in the city. The warden is very well connected and he was kind enough to introduce me to a number of families who were looking for a piano teacher. We need the money, Moose. Carrie Kelly costs a small fortune and so does the Esther P. Marinoff, so . . . I’ll need you to come straight home from school. I have to be on the four o’clock boat and that is probably cutting it too close. . . .” She shakes her head and bites her bottom lip.
    “I’m supposed to watch Natalie?”
    “Mrs. Kelly says you can take her with you wherever you go, just like any other sister.”
    This stops me. I face my mom. “Mom, nobody takes his sister with him everywhere he goes.”
    My mom’s shoulders hunch down and a little excitement drains out of her face. “Well, they could,” she says.
    I stare at her. Suspicious now. “What do you mean, wherever I go?” I ask, waving the tooth powder at her.
    “Wherever you go.”
    “Mom, it’s dangerous. You’re the one who’s always telling me how—”
    “That’s what I mean.” My mother is all excited again. I am back in the bathroom mixing the tooth powder and water in the palm of my hand. My mom has followed me. Her eyes are shining and she’s smiling at the end of every sentence. “That’s what’s changing. Mrs. Kelly says this is just what Natalie needs. We need to help Natalie join the human race.”
    “Mom”—I brush my teeth with my finger—“we live on an island with 278 murderers, kidnappers, thieves . . . maybe this isn’t the exact part of the human race we want her to join. . . .”
    “Funny you should mention this, because I was talking to Bea Trixle about this yesterday, and you know what she said?