Abby raced through the library and down the hall to the cafeteria, which was also the gym. The lunch tables were gone, and in the middle of the room was a wrestling ring. Teachers and parent volunteers were setting up folding chairs. The smell of fresh popcorn floated out from the kitchen.
Abby looked around the big room. Think, Abby. Think.
On one side of the room was a stage, where they did concerts and plays. And sometimes they pulled down a screen and showed movies.
The screen! That’s it!
No one noticed as Abby climbed onto the stage and dashed into the corner where there was a laptop on a cart. She was pretty sure the computer was hooked up to the screen.
Abby opened the laptop and logged in using her mom’s password. She went online and searched for history shows about Lincoln. She found a website that had the exact same show she’d seen with her father the night before. She clicked Play and watched a little bit of it.
The screen showed a photo of a busy street in Springfield, Illinois.
The narrator was saying: “Election Day was finally here. All day, and into the evening, people streamed into Springfield to vote. Yet Abraham Lincoln was still missing. No one had seen—oh, wait, there he is.”
And the screen showed the outside of the Lincoln home. Mr. Biddle, with his beard still hanging loose, walked up the steps toward the front door. Doc was right beside him.
“Lincoln finally returned home,” the narrator said. “But who is that child?”
Abby smiled. “Nice work, Doc,” she said. She stopped the show.
All she’d have to do now was wait for just the right time to lower the screen and press Play.
“Another biscuit?” Mary Lincoln asked, holding out a tray.
“Thanks,” Doc said, taking a few.
Doc, Mary Lincoln, and Mr. Biddle were sitting in the parlor of the Lincoln home, having tea. Mrs. Lincoln held the plate of biscuits toward the gym teacher.
Mr. Biddle said. “What’s going on here? Where are we?”
Mary smiled. Yes, she was well aware that this man was not her husband. She could guess what Doc was up to and was doing her best to play along.
“Mr. Lincoln is a bit nervous, and understandably so,” Mary said to Doc. “There is a very good chance he will be elected president today.”
Doc looked out the window. It was getting dark, and the party was starting. Booming brass bands rolled by on wagons. Crowds were marching through the streets, holding torches, talking and shouting.
Mary checked the clock. “We’re to meet our friends and supporters in town. And if you win, Mr. Lincoln, you’ll be expected to say a few words to the crowd.”
Mr. Biddle said, “What about the wrestling?”
“Excuse me?” Mary asked.
“I don’t want to miss the wrestling,” Mr. Biddle said.
“Come on, you’ll be great,” Doc said. “You did such a good job as Lincoln today. People loved you!”
Mr. Biddle smiled. “They did, didn’t they?”
“Just do more of that kind of stuff,” Doc said.
Mary Lincoln stood up. “We’d best be going. Mr. Lincoln, would you please fix your beard?”
Mr. Biddle hooked the beard around his ears. He walked to the front door with Doc and Mrs. Lincoln.
The moment they stepped outside, the crowd in the street gave a huge cheer.