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Authors: Gennifer Choldenko
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about the fire. The
trouble is, nobody believes it was an accident. Every kid is sure it was Al Capone
who burned our place down. We didn’t do what he said. We didn’t treat him right. We
didn’t buy him cigars or silk underwear or cannolis and he got mad.
The rumors are out of hand. By the end of the day, Piper has everyone believing the
fire consumed all of Alcatraz, and the prisoners are on a boat floating in the bay—waiting
to attack the city.
Even Mrs. Twiggs is impressed. But when I tell her what really happened, she lets
me know how sorry she is, then tells me I will need to redo my paper and turn it in
next week. Piper, on the other hand, gets a free ride and her house was nowhere near
the fire. “Every student is different. Some are more fragile than others. Piper is
quite sensitive,” Mrs. Twiggs explains when I take it up with her.
Piper . . . sensitive? I think I’m going to be sick.
On the ferry home, I tell Jimmy all about what happened with school and then about
Donny and the bottle caps.
“So he outthrew you?” Jimmy asks.
“Pretty much,” I say.
“With bottle caps?”
“I wanted to use a ball, but I didn’t have one.”
“And he kept the money?”
I look out at the water, green as seaweed today. “I’m sure he’ll give it back next
time we see him. He’s not going to take money from us.”
Jimmy nods uncertainly. “I’ve seen you throw a million times. I can’t imagine he can
throw better than you can.”
It’s true. Donny’s throw wasn’t that great, but I’m not going to say this out loud.
Even to Jimmy. It makes me sound like I’m full of myself.
Instead, I change the subject. “When are we going to try the cockroaches?” I ask.
“I got Saturday off. We can do it then.” Jimmy works really hard. He doesn’t get money,
either, just credit for the Mattamans’ groceries. Even so, the Mattamans seem to have
less money than anyone else.
I’m not wild about waiting until Saturday, and I’m concerned about pinning all of
my hopes on a few scummy bugs. “Could you get a day off before then?”
“Did you forget who I work for?” he asks.
I can’t even imagine having Bea Trixle for a boss. She’s almost as bad as Darby. Bea
and Darby Trixle deserve each other.
Once the boat docks, I say goodbye to Jimmy and head up the switchback. I’d like to
work a bit more on the Janet angle. I know Janet is a good kid, she would never have
started a fire on purpose; but it could have happened accidentally.
It won’t be so easy to run into Janet now, though. I’m not going to knock on her door
and risk coming face-to-face with Bea or Darby. When we lived in 64 building, I saw
Janet more, but now that we’re parked at the Chudleys’ I probably won’t.
I don’t like living at the Chudley house. When I want to play ball, I have to walk
all the way down to 64 to get Annie, then back up to the parade grounds to play. Plus,
it’s lonely up there. We have the same mournful gulls, the same lonely foghorn, but
it all seems creepier when you’re catawampus to the cell house.
My father says the task force is still inspecting #2E. He says it will be at least
two weeks until we can move back even with the crew of convict carpenters working
overtime. I don’t like to think about felons pawing through my stuff, but I’ll deal
with it if that’s how we’ll get back home.
The big question is will Nat ever be able to sleep up here. With no sleep, she gets
touchy—almost explosive, and everybody treats her like she’s made of cut paper. Then
my parents start dragging around like they haven’t slept since last Thanksgiving.
It doesn’t help that we don’t have our stuff at the Chudleys’. Our whole kitchen was
lost in the fire. Any time we need something, it’ll mean another trip down to 64 building
to borrow pans, spatulas, colanders, and serving spoons. And guess who’s going to
make all those
trouble is, nobody believes it was an accident. Every kid is sure it was Al Capone
who burned our place down. We didn’t do what he said. We didn’t treat him right. We
didn’t buy him cigars or silk underwear or cannolis and he got mad.
The rumors are out of hand. By the end of the day, Piper has everyone believing the
fire consumed all of Alcatraz, and the prisoners are on a boat floating in the bay—waiting
to attack the city.
Even Mrs. Twiggs is impressed. But when I tell her what really happened, she lets
me know how sorry she is, then tells me I will need to redo my paper and turn it in
next week. Piper, on the other hand, gets a free ride and her house was nowhere near
the fire. “Every student is different. Some are more fragile than others. Piper is
quite sensitive,” Mrs. Twiggs explains when I take it up with her.
Piper . . . sensitive? I think I’m going to be sick.
On the ferry home, I tell Jimmy all about what happened with school and then about
Donny and the bottle caps.
“So he outthrew you?” Jimmy asks.
“Pretty much,” I say.
“With bottle caps?”
“I wanted to use a ball, but I didn’t have one.”
“And he kept the money?”
I look out at the water, green as seaweed today. “I’m sure he’ll give it back next
time we see him. He’s not going to take money from us.”
Jimmy nods uncertainly. “I’ve seen you throw a million times. I can’t imagine he can
throw better than you can.”
It’s true. Donny’s throw wasn’t that great, but I’m not going to say this out loud.
Even to Jimmy. It makes me sound like I’m full of myself.
Instead, I change the subject. “When are we going to try the cockroaches?” I ask.
“I got Saturday off. We can do it then.” Jimmy works really hard. He doesn’t get money,
either, just credit for the Mattamans’ groceries. Even so, the Mattamans seem to have
less money than anyone else.
I’m not wild about waiting until Saturday, and I’m concerned about pinning all of
my hopes on a few scummy bugs. “Could you get a day off before then?”
“Did you forget who I work for?” he asks.
I can’t even imagine having Bea Trixle for a boss. She’s almost as bad as Darby. Bea
and Darby Trixle deserve each other.
Once the boat docks, I say goodbye to Jimmy and head up the switchback. I’d like to
work a bit more on the Janet angle. I know Janet is a good kid, she would never have
started a fire on purpose; but it could have happened accidentally.
It won’t be so easy to run into Janet now, though. I’m not going to knock on her door
and risk coming face-to-face with Bea or Darby. When we lived in 64 building, I saw
Janet more, but now that we’re parked at the Chudleys’ I probably won’t.
I don’t like living at the Chudley house. When I want to play ball, I have to walk
all the way down to 64 to get Annie, then back up to the parade grounds to play. Plus,
it’s lonely up there. We have the same mournful gulls, the same lonely foghorn, but
it all seems creepier when you’re catawampus to the cell house.
My father says the task force is still inspecting #2E. He says it will be at least
two weeks until we can move back even with the crew of convict carpenters working
overtime. I don’t like to think about felons pawing through my stuff, but I’ll deal
with it if that’s how we’ll get back home.
The big question is will Nat ever be able to sleep up here. With no sleep, she gets
touchy—almost explosive, and everybody treats her like she’s made of cut paper. Then
my parents start dragging around like they haven’t slept since last Thanksgiving.
It doesn’t help that we don’t have our stuff at the Chudleys’. Our whole kitchen was
lost in the fire. Any time we need something, it’ll mean another trip down to 64 building
to borrow pans, spatulas, colanders, and serving spoons. And guess who’s going to
make all those
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