“Shut up, Theresa. Let’s just find Natalie,” Piper tells her.
“Where would Natalie go?” I try to think, but my mind is jammed with fear.
“The secret passageway?” Piper whispers.
“She doesn’t know about it.” Then it comes to me, what I told her yesterday: tomorrow. We can see Molly tomorrow. “Your house,” I tell Piper.
Theresa’s head is like a little nodding machine. “She kept talking about that mouse, Molly.”
“Why didn’t you tell me that before?” Jimmy shouts at her.
Theresa takes a big wobbly breath. “Don’t yell at me. I didn’t think of it.”
I’m already running up the steps with Piper right behind me. Mattaman can see us here too, only not as easily or as clearly. But right now I don’t care about Mattaman. I just want to find Natalie.
We tear up out of the tower guard’s sight lines and take the shortcut to Piper’s house. At least the passmen won’t be at the warden’s house. Thank God they don’t work at night.
When we get to Piper’s doorstep, heaving from the uphill run, Piper pulls open the door, slips inside, and slams the door in my face. “Wait here,” her muffled voice barks from inside the house.
“Hey.” I shove open the door.
“No!” She squeezes it shut again and turns the lock.
I pound on the door. “Piper!” I yell. Then I run around to the back door and shove myself against it. This door opens easily and I almost fall into the kitchen.
A bed has been moved inside the large kitchen along with bags of fluids and containers of pills. Mrs. Williams is lying on the bed, a thin cover over her enormous stomach, her skin as gray as dead fish, and a smell like overripe peaches is hanging in the air. Doc Ollie’s sister is running a washcloth across Piper’s mom’s forehead.
“Moose?” Doc Ollie’s sister looks up in surprise.
“I found her! She’s here!” Piper yells from another part of the house. Relief shoots through my system.
I duck out the back door, but not fast enough. Piper has run around the house looking for me. She sees me come out the back door.
“I told you not to go in.” Piper’s voice drops suddenly as Natalie comes around the house.
“Natalie,” I say, so glad to see her, my insides ache with relief.
“I told you!” Piper shouts.
“Yeah but—” I mumble, staring at Piper, whose face is half lit by the glow of the big yellow moon.
“Stop looking like that!” She shoves me.
“Like what?” I mutter, wondering how I’m supposed to look.
“Stop!” Piper’s nails are ready to scratch my eyes out. “My mom is fine. Buddy said so.” Her voice breaks.
“Okay,” I whisper.
It’s quiet up here—a world away from the party below. Only the sound of the night crickets and a distant boat horn. Piper looks as if she might burst. “Hey, I believe you,” I whisper in my most soothing voice.
Piper lunges at me again. “She is.”
“Okay, all right.” I lift my arms in the cool night air.
Tears stream down Piper’s face. “I told you to stop looking that way! She’s fine!” Piper sobs. “She’s just going to have a baby. That’s all.” Piper is crumpled over like an empty dress. “Say it!” she cries, her voice choked with sobs.
“She’s fine, Piper,” I tell her. Natalie is rocking from one foot to another, her eyes scanning Piper and then the ground, Piper and then the ground.
Piper’s eyes spit like bacon on the griddle. “You think you know everything. But you don’t. Everyone hates you, Moose.”
“Everyone hates you, Moose,” Nat repeats. “Not Natalie. Not me,” Nat mutters, touching her chest.
Piper ignores Natalie. “Jimmy does. You treat him like an imbecile because he doesn’t like baseball.”
“I don’t treat him like a—”
“Why do you think he’s trying so hard to learn to play?”
I grind my teeth.
“Yeah. Annie’s teaching him. And Annie . . . you only like her because she has a great throwing arm.”
“There are lots of things I like about Annie,” I whisper. “Piper, you’re just upset. Don’t take it out on me.”
“Yeah, name one. Name one thing you like about Annie.”
“She’s nice. She’s smart. I can trust her.”
“If she couldn’t play baseball, you wouldn’t be her friend.”
“That’s not true.”
“Yeah, it is, and Scout hates you because you’re always sure he’s after me.”
“Well, he is after you.”
“You don’t know anything, do you?” she lashes out at me. “You’re a complete moron like your sister. It runs in your family.” She glares at Natalie, the tears streaming down her face.
“You’re a moron!” Piper screams at Natalie.
“Shut up!” I can’t help myself. Nobody says this to Natalie. Nobody. But then the scene in the kitchen flashes through my mind. The gray, sick, drawn face. The sickly sweet rotting smell.
“What’s wrong with your mom, Piper?” I whisper.
“Nothing!” she screams. “Nothing is wrong!”
But the louder she screams, the more she sees I don’t believe her. She shoves me away. “Can’t you see, you moron? Nothing is wrong!” She turns and runs into the house.
When Natalie and I get back down to 64 building, Mrs. Mattaman is waiting for us outside our apartment. I’m not sure what Mrs. Mattaman knows and what she doesn’t know, but from the way her eyes are squinting and her foot is tapping, she’s clearly hopping mad. “Go straight to bed, you two.” Her voice is cold and hard. “I will be back in half an hour to check on you, and you had better be in bed snoring, do you understand me? My kids have no school tomorrow. What about you, Moose?”
I shake my head. It’s peculiar we would all be off when it isn’t a holiday. Normally I’d be happy about this, but with Mrs. Mattaman so burnt up, I wish I did have school.
“When Mr. Mattaman gets off at eight tomorrow morning you, Moose, will report to our apartment. You and Theresa and Jimmy have a lot of explaining to do, you hear me? Pulling shenanigans on an important night like this . . . shame on you!” She waves her fancy jeweled purse at me.
“Mrs. Mattaman?” I ask as she turns to leave. “Is Piper’s mom okay?”
Mrs. Mattaman stops, her chest heaving. “I dunno, Moose,” she says without turning back. “I really don’t know.”
28.
PIG HALF IN THE POKE
Monday, September 9, 1935
The next morning when I wake up, Natalie is staring over me, peering into my eyes like she’s doing a wake-up spell.
“What is it?” I ask.
Natalie says nothing, but I can see by the way she’s digging her chin in her chest that she’s anxious.
I wonder what she made of what happened last night. Did she know she wasn’t supposed to go to the warden’s house? Did she understand why Piper was yelling at me? Does she know what the word moron means? It would be a lot easier to feel sad for Piper if she wasn’t so mean.
Natalie stays with me as if she is suddenly glued to my side. I have to go in the bathroom and close the door in her face to get changed. When I’m done, she’s waiting right outside.
In the kitchen, we hear my dad rattling around. What does he know about last night, I wonder. I’d rather he find out about it from me, but maybe he won’t have to hear about it at all. Maybe the Mattamans will want to keep this quiet. Mrs. Caconi too. I’m sure she’d prefer if my parents didn’t know Natalie disappeared on her watch.
“What’s your plan this morning?” Natalie asks when she sees our dad.
We both look at her as if the stove just spoke. This is what my father usually asks. Slowly, my father’s face changes from surprise to pleasure.
“Gonna make myself some breakfast,” he tells Natalie. “And you, sweet pea?”
“Moose,” she mutters. “Stay with Mo
ose.”
“Mrs. Mattaman invited us over,” I tell him.
“For breakfast?” He cocks his head and sets the coffeepot down.
“Uh-huh. Dad, what’s happening with Mrs. Williams?”
My dad shrugs. “It’s hard to know. The warden likes to play things close to the vest.”
My mother pokes her head in the kitchen.
“Piper’s mom . . . is she okay?” I ask her.
My mother rubs her eyes and tightens the cord on her bathrobe. “We’re all worried.” She sighs. “You hear something?”
I can’t tell her what I saw without explaining what in the heck I was doing up there. I wish I could, though. I really wish I could.
At the Mattamans’ the first person we see is Riv Mattaman. The whites of his eyes are shot through with pink and his legs are kicked over the arm of the chair, as if he’s too tired to sit the normal way. Mattaman did a shift and a half in the guard tower. No wonder he’s beat.
He groans when he sees me. I can’t meet his bloodshot eyes.
Nat sits right down to a game of button checkers already in progress from last night. She looks up at Theresa, her eyes full of longing, but Theresa has hold of her dad’s hand and won’t let it go. Natalie reluctantly settles in to play by herself.
“Piper’s not here, Dad.” Theresa pulls on his arm. “You can’t start till she gets here.”
“Mind your own business, missy,” he tells Theresa, then looks at all of us. “What the heck happened last night?”
Jimmy takes a step forward. “Piper got you and Moose’s dad in trouble because she was mad at Theresa.”
“I didn’t do anything! It wasn’t me,” Theresa cries.
“Was so.” Jimmy glares at her.
Mattaman pulls at his still crisply creased pant leg and rests his foot on the chair rung. “Come again?” he asks.
“She told the warden she saw you and Mr. Flanagan drinking just before you went on duty.”
In the kitchen, Mrs. Mattaman slams her rolling pin down, then yanks her apron off, wads it up, tosses it on the chair, and marches into the living room.
“She said she’d get you out of trouble if Moose would help her meet Capone,” Jimmy explains. “So she and Moose snuck back inside to watch.”
“That true?” Mr. Mattaman directs his question at me.
“Yes, sir. We saw Capone spit in Eliot Ness’s mashed potatoes. He hocked up a gob of phlegm, then he smoothed it over with his finger. Gave it a little swirl. I saw with my own eyes.”
Mr. Mattaman pulls at his mustache.
Theresa makes a face. “Eew,” she says.
“But Natalie didn’t go with you. It was just you and Piper in there?” Mr. Mattaman asks.
“While they were gone, we were watching Natalie with Mrs. Caconi,” Jimmy explains, “but Nat snuck out. She went to the warden’s house.”
“She wanted to see Molly, the mouse Willy One Arm has,” Theresa adds.
Mr. Mattaman points at her. “And you, missy? What did you do that annoyed Piper so much that started this whole thing?”
Theresa’s lower lip puckers up. “Nothing. Piper is the wrong one, not me.”
Jimmy snorts. “C’mon, Theresa.” He glares at his sister, then turns to his dad. “She spies on us, Dad. And she can’t stand that Moose likes Piper.”
The blood rushes to my face. “I do not like Piper.”
“Do so,” Theresa says.
“Theresa! Since when is that your business? You and I need to have a talk about this in private,” Mr. Mattaman tells her. Theresa’s mouth droops.
“And you two.” He points at me and Jimmy. “Why didn’t you tell me about this? For Pete’s sake—” He sighs, his brown eyes softening. “Since when do you think you run the place?”
“Can I ask one little tiny-teeny question?” Theresa’s hand is up by her face like she’s not sure whether to raise it all the way or not. “When are you going to talk to Piper?”
“Listen up, Theresa. I’m not going to say this twice. This . . . is . . . not . . . your . . . business.”
Her shoulders slump down. “If it was my business, would you tell me?”
“Theresa Maria Mattaman.” Her father’s voice gathers steam.
“Okay, okay.” She puts her hand down.
“All right then. I don’t want news of these shenanigans to go farther than this room, do you understand me?” He points to each of us and we nod.
“And if I ever hear of any of you taking matters into your own hands again, I will go straight to the warden. Is that understood?” Mr. Mattaman looks around the room again, checking in with each of us.
We all nod our heads. Even Theresa. Only Natalie continues to play checkers, one lone player against herself. In the silence of our head nodding, she looks up at us and down again.
On the way back from the Mattamans’, Nat walks even slower than normal, dragging her foot on the ground, running her hand along the wall and humming an empty tune.
“What’s the matter, Nat?” I ask her.
“Peoples are mad at Moose,” she says.
I hold the door of our place open waiting for her to come in. “Yeah, but it’s okay. We got off easy—practically scot-free.”
She touches her own chest. “No one is mad at Natalie. Natalie is a moron.”
“No, Nat, listen to me. Listen very closely. You’re not a moron. Piper is . . . She’s the moron. Not you.”
“Mr. Mattaman shakes his finger at Moose. Not Natalie. Natalie went away.”
“Yeah, and you shouldn’t do that, Nat. You shouldn’t go up to the warden’s house,” I tell her. “But could we discuss this inside?”
“Why?” she asks, suddenly looking directly at me.
“Because it’s not safe to go to the warden’s house and I don’t want to talk about this out here on the balcony where people can hear.”
“Tomorrow, we can see Molly tomorrow. Moose said,” she whispers.
“Yeah, okay, I said that. But I was wrong. We can’t go up there whenever we want. There are things you can’t do. You can’t go up top and”—my voice drops down—“you can’t be friends with 105 either.”
“105,” she mutters.
“Does he visit you, Natalie?”
“Visitors, Natalie. Mommy is here,” she says the way Sadie would say it, only quieter.
“Yeah, Mom visits, but does 105 visit?” I whisper.
“Dad visits,” Nat says.
“Mom and Dad visit, but 105 doesn’t visit.”
“105 doesn’t visit,” she mimics.
She’s not just repeating what I said, right? “But how did you get the stuff in your suitcase?”
“Sadie packs my suitcase,” she says.
“Sadie packed the bar spreader?” I whisper, my throat suddenly too small for my words.
Natalie doesn’t answer. She’s busy counting the posts in the porch rail.
“C’mon, Nat!” Again, nothing.
“Nat, please. Let’s get inside,” I plead. “Mom! Dad!” I call in the door, but it’s silent—too silent—inside. Where did they go?
“Natalie.” I’m begging now. Something about the way she seems to have locked up in place is making me very nervous.
“Home Moose. Not home Natalie,” she says.
It’s Monday, but she’s not going back to the Esther P. Marinoff for another week. Some kind of teacher break before the fall semester.
“Moose go. Natalie stay,” she mutters, closing her eyes and spinning round and round like a merry-go-round, pushing herself faster and faster, until she falls in a clump on the balcony.
“Natalie, not here, okay? Just get inside.” But she doesn’t move. She is curled up in a ball frozen there.
“Moose!” a bullhorn bleats. But it isn’t Darby. It’s Janet.
“Leave us alone, Janet,” I call down to her, but as soon as I say this, Darby appears by the first-floor landing.
“What’s going on?” he bellows into his bullhorn.
It blasts loud enough for all of 64 to hear.
“Nothing, sir,” I say.
“Don’t look like nothin’ to me, son.”
Mrs. Chudley opens her window. Mrs. Caconi comes out, her hands on her big hips. She still looks exhausted from last night. Bea’s clickety-clackety high heels sound on the stairs.
“Sure ain’t normal what she’s doin’ now,” Darby bellows.
“C’mon, Nat. Let’s get you inside.” I try to scoop her up, but I can’t get her to move.
“Where are your folks?” Darby’s voice echoes in the bullhorn.
“Natalie,” I whisper, “we need to count the dishes. Come inside.” This is lame, but it’s all I can think of.
Nat doesn’t budge. Her eyes are shut tight.
“Natalie, we need you to come and check . . . Mom’s knitting something for the warden’s baby. You need to help,” I lie. My mother doesn’t know how to knit.
Still nothing.
Out of the corner of my eye I see Janet Trixle banging on the Mattamans’ door. “C’mon, Theresa! Jimmy! Moose needs help!” she bellows in her baby bullhorn.
“Janet! You come down here!” Darby shouts, but it’s too late. Janet has Theresa and Jimmy in tow. Jimmy takes one look at Natalie and understands exactly what’s going on.
“Let’s carry her in,” Jimmy says. He scoops up her arms, Theresa gets her feet, and I carry her middle. It’s awkward, but it’s not far, only a few feet really. We manage to lug her over the threshold of our apartment and close the door.
I can’t believe it’s Janet helping, but it is. “Thanks,” I tell all of them.
Janet’s face glows. “You want to play?” she whispers to Theresa.
Theresa looks at me. I nod.
“ ’Kay,” Theresa says as she, Jimmy, and Janet go out. I breathe a huge sigh of relief as I close the door after them.
“Jeez, Natalie. I wish you wouldn’t do that,” I tell my sister, who is curled up in a ball like a potato bug.
At least she’s quiet. It could be a lot worse, I’m thinking, when I hear a knock on the door.
“Moose, can I come in?” Darby Trixle wipes his feet on the mat and steps inside without waiting for my answer.
Al Capone Shines My Shoes Page 16
