Doc paced back and forth. Abby rested her chin in her hands.
Five minutes passed.
“Any great ideas?” Doc asked.
“Not yet,” Abby said.
Through the door, they could hear Ms. Ventura and Mr. Biddle talking and laughing.
“What’re they laughing about?” Doc said. “This is all their fault!”
Doc flung the door open.
Mr. Biddle was handing Ms. Ventura books from a little cart, and she was shelving them. The gym teacher was still in his Lincoln outfit, but with the beard dangling on his chest like a hairy bow tie.
“Thanks for nothing, Abe!” Doc shouted.
Mr. Biddle looked over. “Huh?”
“And you, too, Ms. Ventura, with your very special guest,” Doc said, making air quotes around the last three words. “Now the real Abraham Lincoln is quitting history to become a pro wrestler. I hope you’re happy!”
“What on earth is he talking about?” Ms. Ventura asked.
“Sorry, Doc,” Mr. Biddle said. “I can’t help it if I’m a better Lincoln than that guy.”
“That’s a lie!” Doc said. “Right, Abby?”
But Abby had stopped listening. Her eyes were huge. If lightbulbs really appeared above people’s heads when they had great ideas, you’d have seen one up there.
“You okay?” Doc asked.
Abby nodded. She walked up to Doc and whispered in his ear. “Mr. Biddle thinks he’s such a great Abraham Lincoln. Let’s let him prove it.”
“How?” Doc asked.
“You know,” she said. “The cardboard box.”
“I don’t get—” he started to say. But then he said, “Ohhhhhhhhhh. Clever.”
And then he said, “Mr. Biddle, could you come in here? We just found something really cool.”
Mr. Biddle walked into the storage room. “What’s up, guys?”
“It’s, um, it’s this big box,” Doc said.
“What about it?”
Abby pushed a chair up against the side of the cardboard box.
“It’s just …” she started. “We found something really interesting in there.”
“Yeah,” Doc said. “Dodgeballs.”
“Dodgeballs?” Mr. Biddle asked.
“Tons of them,” Doc said.
“Those should be in the gym,” Mr. Biddle said. “Let me see.”
He stepped onto the chair and opened the flaps of the box. He leaned over to look in. “I don’t see any dodgeballs. It’s just a bunch of—hey, let go of me!”
“Sorry!” Doc yelled.
And he and Abby lifted the gym teacher’s legs off the chair.
“Seriously, guys, I’m gonna fall in!”
“It’s for a good cause!” Abby yelled.
Grunting with effort, they lifted Mr. Biddle higher. He tilted forward and fell, screaming, into the box.
Then the room went quiet.
“I better go with him,” Doc said.
Abby agreed. “Just make sure he messes up history.”
“Shouldn’t be hard.”
“And I’ll make sure Lincoln sees it.”
“Think that’ll get him to go back?” Doc asked.
“Worth a try,” Abby said.
“Okay. Good luck.”
“Good luck.”
Doc stepped onto the chair and dove into the box.