Part 11 (2/2)
Annie blushes all the way down to the roots of her yellow-moon-colored hair.
I look around to see who they're talking about. Theresa skips over to the girls to find out what's going on.
Annie's still-pink face appears. ”Moose. These are my friends Dolores”-she points to the one with buckteeth-”and Peggy.” She nods to the short girl.
I raise my hand in a wooden wave and drop it again.
Dolores and Peggy smile at Annie like they're all in on a secret.
”We better get going,” I tell Annie.
”Have fun, Annie,” Peggy giggles.
”Yeah, Annie,” Dolores, the one with the buckteeth, chimes in.
Now wouldn't it be nice if Annie decided to go off with them. I can't imagine how I'll get Theresa to help me with Annie around.
No such luck. Annie stays.
How am I going to do this? I could leave the roses for Mae in the visitors' section of the boat, but with Mae Capone on board, won't there be extra officers on the c.o.xe c.o.xe? There always are on visitors' day, and I'll bet there will be twice as many when the visitor is Scarface's wife. Trixle will be there for certain. He'd never miss this. I can just imagine what would happen if he found the roses.
Theresa skips ahead. I walk with Annie.
”Where do you guys play exactly?” Annie asks, looking down the long expanse of gra.s.s at the Marina Green.
”On a back street a few minutes from here,” I tell her.
”You know, Moose, I've been thinking . . . are you sure Al Capone got her in that school? It doesn't look like a gangland operation to me,” Annie says.
”Which would look how?” I ask, stepping off the curb to avoid the man selling apples. This is what men do when they can't get work. If I get caught, will this happen to my father?
”More silk and whiskey. Glamorous stuff . . . you know. No way Capone had anything to do with that place.”
”Maybe not. I don't know if I like the place, anyway. I don't like it when they put words in her mouth,” I confess.
”You just didn't like what Natalie had to say. The place is good for her, Moose. Trust me,” Annie says.
Trust her, right right. Everybody thinks they know what's best for Natalie: religion, leafy green vegetables, stricter discipline, ice compresses, voodoo. I've heard it all. But wait a minute, if Annie thinks the Esther P. Marinoff School is the right place for Natalie, maybe she'll have changed her mind about telling.
”So you don't want to wreck it for Natalie?” My voice squeaks hopefully.
”It was a mistake is all. That's what I think,” Annie declares. ”I heard my dad talking to my uncle Tony when we drove down to San Mateo yesterday. I was in the rumble seat. They thought I was asleep. My dad said he played chess with Buddy Boy when Buddy was in the hospital. Buddy's a great chess player and so is my dad.”
Guards aren't supposed to play chess with inmates. That I know for sure.
”They had to be quiet, so they pa.s.sed notes to let each other know stuff. Done. Your turn. Done. Your turn. Doesn't that sound like the kind of notes you pa.s.s in a game? They must have gotten in your laundry by mistake.” Doesn't that sound like the kind of notes you pa.s.s in a game? They must have gotten in your laundry by mistake.”
”Maybe,” I reply, scratching a hive on my elbow. I would have totally believed it was possible if I hadn't received the note about Mae and the roses. There's no way that that was about a chess game, but I'm not about to tell Annie this. ”Who won?” I ask. was about a chess game, but I'm not about to tell Annie this. ”Who won?” I ask.
”Buddy.” Annie's eyes are hopeful. ”I think it was all an accident,” she confides.
I look up from where I've been clawing my elbow. ”So you'll play baseball with me on Alcatraz?”
Annie squints at me. ”You haven't gotten any other notes, have you?”
I can't lie about this. Not to Annie. I look down the quiet backstreet. A ragman calls in the distance. A milkman knocks on a door. A cl.u.s.ter of girls plays jacks on the street. ”This is where we play,” I announce.
”Here?” Annie is incredulous.
”I told you he wouldn't be here today,” I say, hoping Annie won't notice I didn't answer her question about the notes.
Theresa bounces back to us. ”If he's not here, we should go find him. Can we, Moose? Can we?”
”There's no time,” I tell Theresa. ”I gotta get back. I promised my mom. And I have to buy flowers.”
Theresa's mouth pulls to one side. ”But we woulda had time to play though. That would have taken time,” she reasons.
”Yeah, but Scout lives pretty far from here. We don't have time to go get him and then play.” I'm pleased with how this comes out. It sounds like I know what I'm talking about.
”You're going to buy flowers? For Piper?” Annie asks.
I'd planned to say my mom, but suddenly Piper sounds like a better idea, mostly because I have never in my life bought my mom flowers. Not that I'd buy them for Piper, but it does seem more likely.
This lying business is a lot more complicated than it looks.
”Yeah,” I say.
”Ohhhhh!” Theresa's eyes seek Annie's.
”It's a good idea,” Annie tells me. ”She's mad at you, you know.”
”Tell me about it,” I say.
”Don't worry. She's mad at the world right now. My mom says it's because she's been the apple of her dad's eye and now all he ever talks about is how much he wants a son. Piper won't do well as second fiddle.” The corners of Annie's mouth sneak up a little.
”So where are we getting the flowers?” Theresa wants to know.
”Let's walk down Union. Probably a flower stand there.”
We walk about six blocks and don't find anything. So Annie goes into a butcher shop and asks. The butcher directs us to a small stand, no bigger than an outhouse. They have roses: red, yellow, and pink. My gut pinches when I see how expensive they are. How can something you can just pick cost so much? I don't have enough for a dozen, but I can buy a half dozen. Will that be enough?
”What color?” Annie asks.
”Yellow,” I tell the man behind the counter.
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