Free Al Capone Does My Shirts by Gennifer Choldenko Page B

She said we are so lucky to live here because Alcatraz is a lot safer than any neighborhood in San Francisco. She says she never locks her door. She never has to. Our bad guys are all locked up. You know how your dad’s always saying the ratio of inmate to guard is three to one here compared to ten to one at San Quentin, which makes Alcatraz a much safer prison. And in the city . . .”
    “Oh, great,” I mutter as I make a cup with my hands and run water into it, then rinse the tooth powder out of my mouth. “It’s safer than San Quentin, the second worst prison in the state.”
    “And in the city”—my mother says this louder, as if to drown out my comment—“Bea Trixle says those same criminals are out free.”
    “Does the warden even know Natalie’s here, or does he still think she’s at the Esther P. Marinoff?”
    “Of course he knows, Moose. But that doesn’t mean I want you to parade her around in front of him. I won’t lie to you. He isn’t wild about the idea of her living here.”
    “Then she should stay inside.”
    “Don’t be silly. You don’t need to hide. Go about your business like you would if Nat wasn’t with you. Just don’t go looking for the warden, all right?”
    “Natalie doesn’t know how to swim, Mom. What if she falls in?”
    “Well, we do have to be careful of that. But I don’t want you near the water either. Anything that’s not safe for Natalie is not safe for you. So if you really think it’s so dangerous here, Moose, then we should move back home.”
    “Good idea,” I say, my voice low and hard.
    “Moose!” My mother’s eyes are like the lit end of a cigarette burning into me.
    Then I remember. Baseball. “You don’t really mean every day. . . .”
    “Yes, I do.”
    “Well, I can’t Monday. I’m playing ball after school.”
    She sighs. “I have lessons scheduled for Monday, Moose. But I have nothing for Tuesday. What do you say I try to keep that day free for you. . . .”
    “Monday is when they play, Mom. Not Tuesday. Scout said.”
    “Well, ask this Scout person to play on Tuesday.”
    “I hardly know the guy. How am I supposed to get him to put together a whole game just for me?”
    “Ask him. That’s how,” my mother says, and then softens. “Look, I know this isn’t easy for you. I know you’d rather not have any responsibilities. But the fact is, you do. If you play baseball on Alcatraz, you can play every day.”
    “Almost no one plays here.”
    “Gram doesn’t live down the street anymore, honey.” My mom sighs. “We can’t do this without you. Being around kids is good for Natalie. Mrs. Kelly says so. And if she’s to get accepted in the Esther P. Marinoff . . .”
    My mom is like a one-woman commando unit. She could win land battles, air battles, water battles, outer space battles too, probably. I wonder if there would be time to get Natalie and then get back to school in time to play ball with the guys. It would be embarrassing to have her there, but at least I could play.
    “Could I take her to San Francisco?” I ask.
    “No.”
    “Why not? You just said . . .”
    “I just said it isn’t safe there.”
    “It isn’t safe there, but it’s safe here, crammed right up close with America’s worst criminals?”
    “We’ve been through this already, Moose.”
    “How long will you be gone?” I ask.
    “Even when I’m here, you’ll need to take her outside with you, Moose. What kind of a kid experience is she going to have following me around?”
    She can’t mean this. Please someone tell me she didn’t say this.
    “Moose.” My mother reaches for my chin again and tips my face toward her. “I need you. Your dad needs you and Natalie needs you most of all. Let’s give this a try, shall we? Let’s just see how it goes.”
    I pull my head away and walk toward my room. “What if I don’t want to see how it goes? What if I’ve been seeing how it goes my whole life?” I whisper.
    “Tuesday. See if Scout can play on