Read Online Al Capone Does My Shirts by Gennifer Choldenko - Free Book Online

says, her white-gloved fingers closed into a tight fist around the handle of her green pocketbook.
    “She gets up early?”
    “She likes to watch the sun rise,” I say.
    Mr. Purdy looks at me, then back at my mom. “As you can see, we are located in Presidio Heights. It’s a fine residential neighborhood, but perhaps not an ideal spot for someone like your daughter . . .” His voice trails off.
    My mother waits.
    “And though our neighbors are largely encouraging of what we’re trying to do here, we must be cautious about taking children who might strain the relationships we’ve worked so hard to build. Children who are, one might say, overly vocal.”
    “She screamed?” my mother asks.
    “Yes, she did. For the better part of an hour, I’m afraid. Your daughter’s voice is quite shrill, and coupled with her early-rising habits . . .”
    “But you think this is something that”—my mother holds up the folded slip of paper—“Mrs. Kelly can help us with.”
    “Indeed I do,” Mr. Purdy says, standing up again. He has his good-bye smile on and he’s looking at his watch.
    “And why is this different for boys?” she asks.
    “The boys’ cottage is located in the old maids’ quarters, which is farther from the neighbors.” Mr. Purdy sits down again. He sketches a quick map for us. It looks like a bad pirate’s map with X ’s marked for the treasure.
    “Did you take her buttons away?” I ask.
    My mom looks at me, then back at Mr. Purdy.
    “We can’t have a child who screams like a banshee at five-fifteen in the morning in a neighborhood like this. Now, if you’d like to spend some time working with Mrs. Kelly, there’s a good possibility she can help Natalie bring this problem under control. I can’t promise you, of course, but if Mrs. Kelly feels that Natalie is ready for our program, we’ll consider her application again in May.”
    My mother is up now, offering her hand to Mr. Purdy to shake. “Of course, my husband and I appreciate all the help you’ve given us.”
    In the waiting room Natalie’s legs are open, the way my mother always tells her not to sit. She is seated on a needlepoint brocade chair and I see by the way her finger is moving that she is counting the stitches in the seat.
    We wait until she finishes the last stitch at the bottom, before she starts again with the first stitch at the top. Our timing is perfect. We’ve had a lot of practice at this, my mother and I. I grab the old brown suitcase that says NATALIE FLANAGAN on all six sides and we hustle Natalie out the door. She is walking behind us now, a teenage girl acting as if she’s eight.

12. What about the Electric Chair?
    Tuesday, January 8, 1935
     
    The next morning seems just like normal, with Natalie watching the sun rise and then asking for lemon cake. And my mom telling her she’s a silly sweet pea and she can’t have it. My mom has the little slip of paper Mr. Purdy gave her taped to the icebox door. Twice now she’s asked my father how early he thinks she should call.
    I hurry past the Mattamans’ on the way down to the boat for school. The fog’s in and everything is gray. The foghorns bellow deep low notes. First one end of the island. Then the other.
    When I get to the Trixles’, Theresa Mattaman sticks her head out. “Moose! Can I come with you?”
    “To school?” I ask. “Don’t you have kindergarten at the Caconis’ apartment?”
    Theresa ducks her head back inside. “Janet, I’m sorry. I have to go to school with Moose today!” I hear her yell. Janet is Bea Trixle’s daughter. She is the same age as Theresa, but that is the one and only similarity they have.
    “Mommy!” Janet whines. “Theresa’s escaping again !”
    “Theresa. You can’t go out. I told your mommy I’d look after you, you know that!” I hear Bea Trixle call.
    “Uhhh,” Theresa groans. “When is my mom getting back from the hospital? Having a baby couldn’t possibly take this long. Do you think she went