The next morning, as always, Doc and Abby got to school early with their mom. She went right to her classroom, and Doc and Abby walked to the cafeteria for breakfast.
“So should we say something?” Abby asked.
“You mean about Lincoln?”
“Yeah,” Abby said. “About what he said. Warn the class or something?”
“Like what?” Doc said. “Like, ‘Oh, hi, class, I just wanted to let you know that yesterday, after school, Abraham Lincoln appeared in a cardboard box and told me and Abby to tell you guys not to make fun of history.’”
“That does sound kind of weird.”
They slid their trays toward the cash register. Mr. Biddle, the gym teacher, was ahead of them in line.
“Morning, guys,” he said.
“Good morning, Mr. Biddle,” they both said.
They carried their food to a table and started to eat.
“Anyway, there’s no way it was really Lincoln,” Doc said with a mouthful of toast. “I mean, he lived in the eighteen, you know, somethings.”
“So who do you think it was?”
“I don’t know,” Doc said. He looked at Mr. Biddle, who was standing nearby, joking around with a few kids. “Maybe it was him.”
“Mr. Biddle?” Abby asked.
“Looked sort of like him.”
“A tiny bit,” Abby said. “But why would he do that? He mostly likes dodgeball. And how did he just disappear into the box like that?”
Doc sipped his chocolate milk. “Couldn’t tell you.”
“Okay, you lucky ducks,” Ms. Maybee told the class later that morning. “It’s that time again. That special time you’ve all been waiting for, hoping for, praying for …”
Abby turned and looked at Doc.
“That’s right,” chirped Ms. Maybee. “Time to get out those history textbooks!”
Groans, grumbles, sighs, snores.
Abby looked up at the picture of Abe Lincoln on the wall. He seemed to be staring right at her.
But what could she do?
Ms. Maybee laughed. “You big babies, today’s going to be better. We’ll read about how Lincoln became president of the United States and faced the Civil War, the greatest crisis in American history.”
Then came the usual cracks:
“Do we have to?”
“Can’t we just watch glue dry instead?”
“Let’s do another math worksheet!”
Everyone was laughing—except Abby, Doc, and the teacher. Normally Doc would have jumped in with a joke of his own. Everyone was expecting him to.
Instead, he said, “Let’s give it a chance.”
The other kids were in shock.
“I like history,” Doc said.
“No you don’t!” someone shouted.
“Well,” Doc said, “it could be, you know, not too terrible.”
“Thank you, Doc,” Ms. Maybee said. “Louis, get us started. Page one twenty-six.”
Louis read out loud: “Abraham Lincoln sat in a rocking chair in the living room of his house. He was wearing a robe and slippers. He was reading a newspaper.”
Louis looked up from the book. “It’s the same as yesterday. He’s not doing anything.”
Ms. Maybee looked worried. But she said, “Keep going, please.”
“Lincoln sat in the chair, reading, for about an hour. Then he got up. He folded the newspaper and tucked it under his arm. He walked out the back door to a tiny white building behind the house. It was the family outhouse, a three-holer. Lincoln opened the door and—”
“Okay, let’s stop there,” Ms. Maybee cut in. She looked down at her own copy of the book and read a little more. “Oh, gross,” she said.
And she shut the book. History was over for the day.
Possibly forever.