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Al Capone Does My Shirts by Gennifer Choldenko

Today I moved to a twelve-acre rock covered with cement, and surrounded by water. I’m not the only kid who lives here. There’s my sister, Natalie, except she doesn’t count. There are twenty-three other kids who live on the island because their dads work as guards or cook’s or doctors or electricians for the prison, like my dad does. Plus, there are a ton of murderers, hit men, con men, stickup men, embezzlers, connivers, burglars. You get to Alcatraz by being the worst of the worst. Unless you’re me. I came here because my mother said I had to.