Al Capone Does My Shirts by Gennifer Choldenko Page A

buttons to feathers to stones like this is her assignment.
    “Natalie,” Piper calls.
    Deep in button mode, Natalie doesn’t answer.
    “Natalie,” Piper tries again.
    “What do you want with her?” I ask, sticking my face in Piper’s face.
    “Simmer down, buster. I’m just asking her to help me count.”
    “I don’t think she’s—” I start to say.
    “Numbers Nat, we need you!” Theresa interrupts.
    Natalie looks up.
    Piper hands Nat the money, rolled up in a handkerchief. “Three dollars and twenty cents split four—excuse me.” Piper looks at me. “Three ways.”
    “One dollar six cents, two cents left over.” Natalie rocks with pleasure.
    “Extra two cents goes to me,” Piper says as Natalie counts out each share.
    Annie and Jimmy discuss what they’ll do with the money. A dollar and six cents buys a whole Italian dinner in North Beach plus a double feature at the movies or a month of swims at Fleishhaker’s Pool or a bunch of rides on the streetcars—the dinkies, as Annie calls them.
    I’m just wondering how much they get for Seals tickets when Mr. Trixle appears out of nowhere. Everyone freezes. Piper’s money is put away. Annie’s and Jimmy’s piles are still out.
    “Piper, Moose, Jimmy and Annie,” he barks, “the warden wants to see you in his library.”
    Me? I didn’t do anything. I form the words with my lips, but keep the sound inside.
    Theresa takes off her roller skates, but then begins to cry because she can’t find her shoes. Jimmy starts hollering at Theresa to shut up. A group of moms and toddlers who have overheard Mr. Trixle’s command stare at us, their mouths hanging open. Annie clutches her homework against her chest. She looks even paler than usual.
    “You don’t have to come,” I tell Theresa. “He didn’t call you.”
    “I have to come. Who’s going to get you out of trouble?” Theresa says, walking in her two sock feet.
    “I’m not in trouble. I didn’t do anything,” I say.
    “He called your name,” Theresa says, her whole face scrunched up. “Come on, Nat.” She stoops down to Nat’s level. “Moose’s in trouble. We gotta go.”
    Natalie in the warden’s office. My mom is going to love this!
    “Leave your buttons,” I tell Nat. She has most of them out now. If I wait for her to put them back, it will take hours.
    “Yeah, Nat, we need you,” Theresa says.
    “Natalie help. One dollar, six cents. Two cents left.” Nat nods to herself, following us. I shake my head in wonder. It’s almost as if Nat’s a part of our group.
    We hike up the steep switchback road in silence. The wind blows the eucalyptus trees, a buoy clangs, a boat horn toots, Natalie drags her toes.
    We climb the steps in Piper’s house and file into the warden’s library. The warden stares at each of us as we sit down. He says nothing for the longest time. The silence presses down on me. I didn’t do anything. It wasn’t me, I want to yell.
    When he finally speaks, his voice is very low. “I am so disappointed. I can’t even begin to tell you how disappointed I am.”
    Outside, the gulls are arguing. They sound loud, even through the window. I glance down at Natalie, who is sitting on the floor, running her hand over the spines of the books.
    The warden looks at each of us. He takes a pair of small gold spectacles out of his shirt pocket and flicks them open. Out of his pants pocket, he removes an envelope. All of his motions are slow and deliberate. He unfolds the letter and begins to read.
     
    Dear Warden Williams,
    My son, Del Junior, goes to school with your daughter, Piper Williams. On Tuesday, Del came home from school without his shirt.
    When I asked him where it was, he said his shirt was to be laundered by the notorious gangster inmate Al Capone. Of course, I thought his imagination had the best of him. But when he explained the details of the operation, I began to see that the idea was simply too preposterous to have been made up.
    It’s bad enough that