The crowd in the school gym gave a huge cheer.
In the wrestling ring, Gigantic Phil climbed onto the ropes and lifted his arms in air. His opponent, Al “The Alligator” Albertson, was lying facedown on
the mat.
“Now he’s going to jump on that poor fellow?” Lincoln asked Abby. They were sitting together a few rows from the ring.
“Of course,” Abby said. “That’s his big move.”
“But the man is injured!”
“It’s all fake,” Abby said. “They plan it out ahead of time.”
“This is not the kind of wrestling I’m used to,” Lincoln said.
Gigantic Phil leaped from the top rope, soared through the air, and slammed his elbow into the back of The Alligator’s head.
Or, it looked as if he did. Really, he missed by a few inches. Everyone but Lincoln knew this.
The Alligator rolled around in fake agony. Gigantic Phil dragged his opponent to the edge of the ring. He ducked between the ropes, jumped to the floor, grabbed The Alligator by his feet, and yanked him out of the ring and onto the gym floor.
Kids and adults leaped to their feet and roared.
“Stop the fight!” Lincoln shouted. “Someone stop it!”
No one heard him. The crowd was going crazy.
Gigantic Phil motioned for a girl in the front row to stand up. She did, and he grabbed her chair. He folded the chair and raised it high above The Alligator, who lay on the floor, holding up his hands, pleading, “No! Please!”
“This is too much!” Lincoln screamed. “Put that chair down, sir!”
He started pushing his way toward the ring.
Gigantic Phil looked to the crowd, grinning like a villain.
“Do it!” people shouted.
“Hit him!”
And he was about to. He started swinging—but Abraham Lincoln gripped a leg of the chair and yanked it from Gigantic Phil’s grasp.
Phil turned toward Lincoln.
“What are you doing?” Phil demanded.
“Can’t you see that man is beaten?” Lincoln asked.
“Yeah, so?”
“So this is no longer a fair fight,” Lincoln said.
Gigantic Phil and Abraham Lincoln glared at each other.
The crowd was loving it—they thought this was all part of the show.
“It’s that Lincoln guy from school!” someone shouted.
“Hit him, Phil!” people shouted.
“Go, Lincoln!”
“Go, Phil!”
“You want a fair fight?” Lincoln asked. “I will give you a fair fight!”
Abraham Lincoln climbed into the wrestling ring.
Gigantic Phil put down the folding chair. He looked around, waiting for someone to tell him what was happening.
Lincoln took off his hat and jacket. He started rolling up his sleeves.
In Springfield, a man stepped out of the telegraph office and held a piece of paper above his head.
“The results from the East are in!” he shouted.
The street went silent.
“Lincoln has won in Pennsylvania and New York!” the man bellowed. “Our own Abraham Lincoln will be the next president of the United States!”
The crowd roared, waving torches.
Doc and Mary nodded to each other. Doc guided Mr. Biddle to the front of the crowd.
“Here he is, folks!” Doc said. “Abraham Lincoln!”
People shouted:
“Our own Honest Abe!”
“Mr. President!”
The gym teacher stood on the sidewalk, looking out at hundreds of happy faces.
They were waiting for him to say something.
Anything.
“Um, okay, yeah,” Mr. Biddle said.
Anything but that.
“Tell us about your plans as president!” someone shouted.
“Right, plans …” Mr. Biddle said. “I have a lot of them. Big plans. Small plans. All kinds of plans.”
“Like what?”
“Hey, check this out,” Mr. Biddle said, flexing his arms. “You don’t get pipes like that from playing video games!”
Everyone stared.
“Guys, look,” he said, “I’m definitely going to say some wise things. But first, let’s get that blood flowing. Who knows how to do jumping jacks?”
No one did.