“Yep.”
Janet’s shoulders sag.
“Nat’s not around very much anymore. Maybe Theresa will play with you now?” I offer.
Janet sighs. “I don’t think so. Theresa stays mad a long time.”
“Theresa never told me you weren’t allowed to play with Nat.”
Janet’s finger beckons me closer. “She’s afraid it will hurt your feelings,” she whispers, glancing down at the paper she’s cutting. “Hey, look what I’m doing.” She perks up. “Making bullhorns. I made a new rule. All my pixie jailers gots to have one.”
“Of course. Bullhorns would be essential equipment for pixie jailers.”
She nods vigorously, like she’s relieved somebody finally appreciates this important concept.
“Would you do me a favor here and look at my paperwork. I’ve got a friend coming over. I want to make sure it’s right.”
“Me? You want me to look at it?” She stands up extra straight, puts her scissors down, brushes her skirt off, and tosses her braids behind her shoulders. Then she takes the card.
Normally I wouldn’t trust this kind of thing to a seven-year-old, but seeing as how rules are Janet Trixle’s specialty… Course I don’t actually know if she can read. Her finger moves along the page, her lips moving silently, forming the words.
I guess that’s my answer. She can read, but not very well. Still, she’ll probably tell her dad I consulted her. That can’t hurt either.
She nods. “Looks fine. When Scout comes, is Theresa going to play with you?”
“I dunno. Maybe.”
Janet’s lips are pressed together. She gets her scissors again and resumes cutting. I notice now what’s written on the paper bullhorn: Theresa Pixie Guard #1.
Thanks to Janet, Scout arrives without a hitch, and Jimmy comes down to the dock to meet him. We’re all headed up the switchback to Piper’s house to get Annie, when Jimmy suggests a detour through 64. “I’ve got something to show you, Scout.” Jimmy smiles in an un-Jimmy-like way.
“Don’t tell me… a new species of fly, right?” Scout tries to catch my eye. He thinks this is funny and he wants to share a laugh with me, but I ignore him. I want to be very careful not to hurt Jimmy’s feelings.
“No,” Jimmy tells him. He leans in to whisper in Scout’s ear.
“Really?” Scout answers, craning his neck in my direction, a question in his eyes.
Jimmy’s head moves in a bunch of jerky little nods. “I figured you’d want to know.”
“Jimmy, where are you going?” I ask as he leads us back around 64 building headed for Chinatown. I grab Jimmy’s arm, but he shakes me off. He takes off running to outpace Scout, who is the world’s fastest walker. They head down the cement stairway, into the shady cool of Chinatown.
When they get to the secret passageway, Jimmy takes his screwdriver out of his pocket.
“Jimmy!” I groan, but it’s too late. He is already unscrewing the hardware that holds the hinge on the door. Jimmy’s eyes avoid mine. He opens the door and a cloud of dust swirls into the air. Scout crawls inside.
“Wow,” Scout says, his voice dull and distant. “Can you really hear people taking a crap and stuff?”
“Shhh!” Jimmy warns as he climbs in behind Scout.
I don’t go in after them. I stand outside fuming. What is Jimmy’s problem? How could he tell Scout about this? What kind of a friend is he, anyway?
They stay in there for a long time. I wait, watching Mrs. Caconi’s big aprons blow on the clothesline she hung back here. She won’t let her clothes near the convicts. She washes them all herself.
When they finally come out, Jimmy is apologizing for not being able to play ball with Scout today. The way he does this, it sounds convincing, but I know it’s a lie. Jimmy doesn’t want Scout to make fun of him again. That’s why he won’t play.
“S’okay.” Scout brushes the dust from his pants as Jimmy secures the hinges back in place. “Moose was gonna show me this place, right, Moose?” Scout asks.
Jimmy’s screwdriver freezes in his hand. He’s clearly waiting to hear what I have to say.
But I have nothing to say.
“Sure you were,” Jimmy insists, drilling down so hard that his fingers turn white.
Scout’s thick eyebrows rise. He looks from Jimmy to me and back again.
“I told Annie about this place too. Seeing as how she’s another of your best friends,” Jimmy mumbles. “And Piper.”
“Piper knows?” I croak.
“Sure. Isn’t she your best friend?” Jimmy swings the screwdriver as he walks up the stairs out of Chinatown. Scout and I watch him go.
“He’s a good guy,” Scout tells me. “You shouldn’t make him mad like that.”
“I shouldn’t? You’re the one said he throws like a dead girl.”
Scout shrugs as if he doesn’t even remember this.
Typical Scout. He’s the guy who brings the eggs, but he’s never the one with egg on his face. If he wasn’t so much fun, I’d hate him.
“Are we gonna play ball or what? Let’s go find Annie,” Scout suggests, as if playing ball with Annie is the most natural thing in the world.
Annie and Piper are supposed to be singing a song for when J. Edgar Hoover, the head of the FBI, and Eliot Ness, the guy who brought Capone down, come to Alcatraz. Apparently there is going to be a big shindig for them with gold foil invitations and everything.
My mom was supposed to help Annie and Piper practice. She offered to teach Alcatraz kids for half off, but the warden didn’t take her up on it. Buddy Boy is helping Annie and Piper with their performance instead.
Buddy Boy’s lessons are, of course, free.
When we knock on the warden’s door this time, it’s Willy One Arm who answers, with the brown mouse, Molly, riding on his shoulder.
“Where’s Mrs. Williams?” I ask.
“Not feeling so good,” Willy One Arm squeaks. Molly nuzzles his neck, her nose twitching like she’s searching for something to eat. We follow Willy and Molly into the living room, where Annie and Piper are both seated on the piano bench.
“Hi, doll.” Scout beams his peepers at Piper.
I grind my teeth. Does he have to call her doll?
“Hi.” Piper smiles back shyly, her eyes softening for Scout.
Piper looks at my baseball bat and her face clouds up. “Annie’s busy,” she snaps.
Buddy Boy offers me his most inviting smile. “Gonna play a little ball are you, buddy?” he asks, concentrating his magnified gray eyes on me.
“Yeah.” I motion my head toward Annie. “When are you gonna be done?”
“She has no idea,” Piper answers for Annie.
Scout smiles his old bachelor-guy smile at Piper. “You got a glove, doll? You could play too.”
Piper shrugs this off. “You should see this,” she tells Scout. “Buddy, do your Shirley Temple.”
“Oh now, missy,” Buddy says. He can’t keep the smile off his face. It seems permanently attached to his lips.
“Come on,” Piper wheedles.
“Shirley who?” Scout asks.
“You never heard of Shirley Temple?”
Scout shakes his head.
“She’s a kid movie star,” Annie explains. “They show her movies in the cell house and everywhere else too.”
“In the cell house…” Scout nods appreciatively.
“Movie night is twice a month,” Piper explains. “Go ahead, Buddy. You gotta hear this,” she tells us.
Buddy clearly lives for this. You can see it in his eyes. He takes off his tortoiseshell glasses and plumps up his curly yellow hair so that it looks more like the six-year-old Shirley’s mop head.
Annie riffles through the music until she finds what she’s looking for and begins playing.
Buddy Boy walks across the room, swinging his arms at his sides and scrunching his shoulders up like he is an adorable roly-poly mop-headed little girl. His arms soar like an airplane while he sings in a high-pitched voice: “On the good ship Lollipop. It’s a sweet trip to a candy shop.” He rubs his belly and puffs his cheeks out.