Theresa is always seeing things and imbuing them with great meaning.

“For your book?” Annie asks politely.

“No, Annie. This really happened! Mae Capone dropped her hanky and I saw!” Theresa whispers.

“Yeah, so?” Annie says.

“She didn’t pick it up again.” Theresa’s whisper is throaty. “It was off the boat… way off. I’ll show you.” She tugs on Annie’s arm.

“Didn’t you hear Trixle? We’re supposed to stay put,” Annie snaps at Theresa.

“Oh.” Theresa’s shoulders sink. “It was a pretty one with a hummingbird on it,” she says.

“And you could see this from here?” Annie asks.

“I have sharp eyes. My daddy said so.”

Bea Trixle is back with the lady in the blue hat. “Earrings,” she calls to Darby, jangling a handful of jingling metal.

Darby trots over to the warden and gives this information to him. The warden motions to the woman to come through the snitch box again. This time no alarm. Then comes Mae-I can tell by the sudden buzz of interest from the cons. They aren’t the only ones craning their necks to see her either. Half the folks in 64 building are out on the balcony watching.

We’re stuck on the boat until Mr. Mattaman comes on board to escort us off. By the time our feet hit the wooden dock planking, the warden, Mae Capone, and Darby Trixle are long gone. Even the cons are back to their sweeping. Theresa skirts around to the spot on the other side of the boat to collect Mae’s hummingbird hanky.

It isn’t there, of course. We help her hunt for a good twenty minutes, but we don’t find anything.

Theresa has her hands on her hips, glaring at us. “You don’t believe me, do you?” she says.

“Of course we believe you,” I say.

Theresa stamps her foot. “It really happened!”

“I just said we believe you, Theresa,” I tell her.

“And you know what else? I touched her! With my hand! When she was talking to Moose. I have so many things to write down. Don’t talk to me.” She puts her hand over her ears. “I got to go record everything before I forget!”

Tuesday, August 27, 1935

One laundry cycle has passed since I gave Mae her yellow rose, and I haven’t heard any more about it. I don’t think I’m going to either. I’m square with Al now. He’s going to leave me alone. My hives are practically gone too; no more wild scratching in the middle of the night. And not even Darby seems to have noticed Mae’s yellow rose, burnt up as he was about me giving one to Bea. Thank goodness for Bea and her pineapple upside-down cake, that’s all I can say.

Not that I’ve exactly stopped searching my laundry. I’m like a gold digger the way I check everything: every pocket, every cuff, every sleeve, every pant leg. I pay close attention to the plumbing too because I don’t want Seven Fingers coming to my place again. Finding a note in the pocket of my shirt was bad enough. Messing with my pillow… that’s something else again. A guy’s pillow is personal, you know?

Still, all in all I’m feeling pretty good. I don’t even mind that school is starting soon, mostly because that means baseball will be beginning too. Annie is going to join us after school. She’ll be the only girl, of course. Her mom is pretty proud about this. She’s started a new needlepoint pillow to honor the occasion: Home Run Gal, it says. So long as she doesn’t make one that says Needlepoint Guy I guess I’m safe.

Natalie is even doing well. She’ll be home for a visit next week. And Scout is coming to the island this afternoon to play ball. I ran this by Jimmy and he seemed fine about it. He said he was glad Scout was coming, so even that little mess has worked out!

This time I decide to run the paperwork for Scout’s visit by Darby before turning it in. I’m not taking any chances. I knock on the Trixles’ door, but Darby’s not there and only Janet is available. “Hi,” she says. Her hair is in its usual braids and she has scissors in her hand. “Theresa with you?” she asks hopefully.

“No,” I say.

She nods. “Theresa won’t play with me. She’d rather play with your sister. And I’m not allowed to play with Natalie. Did Theresa really touch Mae Capone?”

“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.