Free Al Capone Does My Homework by Gennifer Choldenko

trips.
    Yours truly, pack animal.
    Before I even walk in the door, my mother hands me a grocery list: salt, sugar, tea,
     spaghetti, and tomato sauce. I’ve managed to steer clear of Bea since Sunday night.
     But when I get down to the canteen, there she is, shelving soup cans.
    I stall, peering in the window, wishing Jimmy would show up. I’m ready to hunt him
     down, when Annie and her mom arrive.
    “What are you doing?” Annie asks me as her mom opens the canteen door, the bell tinkling
     her arrival.
    “I have to get stuff for supper.”
    Annie looks through the window at Bea Trixle, then back at me. “Want me to?”
    I hand her the list. “Thanks,” I say.
    She pushes open the door. Bea is talking to Mrs. Bomini, but her eyes flash in my
     direction. “That Flanagan girl burns the place down and nobody does squat.”
    I should ignore this and wait outside for Annie, but I can’t stop myself from going
     in. “Natalie didn’t have anything to do with the fire, Mrs. Trixle, ma’am,” I say
     as politely as a person who wants to slug another person can possibly manage.
    “Apparently the fire started by its own self.” Bea’s voice is thick with sarcasm.
    Mrs. Bomini opens her mouth to say something, but I cut her off.
    “The task force hasn’t released their report.”
    “I don’t need a task force to know what I know,” she says, her face red as a rash.
     “What’s more, I don’t appreciate you accusing my Janet.”
    Annie has my arm. She’s trying to pull me out the door, but my stubborn feet won’t
     budge. “Moose, c’mon.”
    My voice shakes with the effort of keeping my temper in check. “It’s not fair to blame
     Natalie.”
    “Tell you what’s not fair,” Bea tells Mrs. Bomini. “Being stuck up there with no fire
     escape. And your husband burning his hand because of a girl who should be locked up.”
    “Now, now,” Mrs. Bomini says. “That was an accident.”
    “But it wouldn’t have happened if that Flanagan girl hadn’t started the blaze. That’s
     my point,” Bea says.
    “You have no proof it was Natalie,” I tell her.
    “You have no proof it wasn’t. Darby has told me all about it,” Bea counters. “We should
     go to the
newspapers
. That’s what we should do, and we ought to call that school of hers. I couldn’t live
     with myself if I thought those poor little children might be in danger because of
     her.”
    “Oh for heaven’s sake, Bea,” Mrs. Bomini says. “Is that really necessary?”
    “I’m suggesting what any upstanding citizen ought to do.”
    “Can’t you wait for the report?” I insist.
    She snorts. “No one has the guts to blame the associate warden’s daughter and that’s
     the truth.”
    “Ma’am.” My chest strains like it might pop.
    “Calm down,” Annie whispers.
    “She’s spreading lies,” I say.
    “
I’m
spreading lies?” Bea is fit to be tied.
    “She needs someone to blame,” Annie whispers, her mouth pressed tight against my ear.
     She takes my hand and pulls me out the door. The second we get outside, she drops
     my hand and shoves her hands in her pockets.
    “Natalie’s an easy target, that’s all. My dad says Bea’s scared. 64 doesn’t have fire
     escapes and it should. That’s one good thing that’s come out of this. They’re looking
     at building some now.” Annie’s face is flushed. She doesn’t look at me directly when
     she says this.
    “Annie, your parents don’t think Natalie . . .”
    Annie shakes her head. “Nope. Bea’s just plain mean. That’s all.”
    “The task force will clear Natalie.” I say this like I’m absolutely positive of it.
     But once the words are out, they seem flimsy, like I could knock them down with my
     finger.

13. Al Capone Is My English Teacher
    Tuesday, January 21, and Wednesday, January 22, 1936
    After I say goodbye to Annie, I head over to Doc Ollie’s yard. I may have lost my
     nickel, but Doc Ollie’s sister is a big gardener, and she’s not stingy