Everyone in the gym looked up at the show on the screen.
They saw Mr. Biddle attempting to teach the people of Springfield about squat thrusts.
“But no one was squatting in Springfield,” said the narrator of the show. “No one was thrusting. A lot of people were starting to walk away, grumbling as they headed home.”
“Well, Lincoln has always been a bit odd,” one man said.
“Sure, but tonight he really cracked,” another guy said.
“Must be the pressure of becoming president at a time like this.”
“Oh, well. There goes the country.”
“Come back!” Mr. Biddle shouted. “I know they’re hard! That’s why they’re good for you!”
Abraham Lincoln stood in the wrestling ring, a look of horror on his face.
“That’s not how it’s supposed to happen,” Lincoln said.
“And are you just going to let that happen?” Mary Lincoln asked.
“Well, I—” Lincoln noticed Abby on the stage. “This was all your doing, I suppose.”
“And Doc,” Abby said. “You can thank us later.” Walking to the front of the stage, she shouted, “You see what would happen without Abraham Lincoln? We really do need Lincoln! The real one!”
“That’s nice of you,” Lincoln said. “But I don’t know …”
“What do you guys say?” Abby asked the crowd. “Who thinks Abraham Lincoln would make a good president?”
“Better president than wrestler!” someone shouted.
The crowd laughed.
“You may be right, sir,” Lincoln said, rubbing his lower back.
“A lot of you guys saw him in school today,” Abby said. “He’s great, right? Awesome stories and jokes! Okay, forget the jokes, but we were totally wrong to call him boring. It’s not just that he did important stuff—that’s true—but the thing is, he’s actually a fun guy to hang around with!”
“Thank you, Abby,” Lincoln said. “That means a lot to me.”
Abby smiled at Lincoln, then turned back to the crowd. “And we’re going to pay attention to him from now on, right? We want to see what he does next!”
The students cheered.
“That’s all I ever asked,” Lincoln said.
He looked up to the screen. Mr. Biddle was being interviewed by a newspaper editor.
The editor asked, “Do you think there is any way to prevent war between the North and the South?”
“I certainly do,” Mr. Biddle said.
“And how can that be done?”
“Simple,” said Mr. Biddle. “We’ll settle our differences with one giant game of dodgeball.”
Abraham Lincoln took his wife’s arm. “Let’s go, Mrs. Lincoln,” he said. “We have work to do.”
“People here aren’t very nice,” Mr. Biddle said.
“I guess not,” Doc said.
He and Mr. Biddle were walking down a dark street in Springfield.
“Why were they getting so angry at me?” Mr. Biddle asked.
Doc wasn’t sure how to explain.
They were almost back to the Lincoln house when Doc heard Abby’s voice.
“Doc! There you are!”
Abby ran up. Abraham and Mary Lincoln were right behind her.
“You’re back!” Doc said to Abe.
“I’m back,” he said.
“Yes, thanks to the two of you,” Mary said to Doc and Abby.
“You might want to go down there,” Doc said to Abe, pointing toward the center of town. “People really want to hear from you. The real you, I mean.”
“Of course, right away,” Lincoln said. “But I want to thank you for all that you’ve done.”
“The whole school-visit idea didn’t go exactly as planned,” Abby said.
Lincoln laughed. “Perhaps not.”
“But we did it,” Doc said. “We fixed history!”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” Lincoln said.
Doc and Abby looked at him, surprised.
“But you’re back,” Abby said. “You’re going to be president.”
“I am, I am. But, you see … I can’t speak for the others.”
“Others?”
Lincoln seemed a little embarrassed. “It’s my fault as much as yours,” he said. “I was trying to teach you a lesson. And it worked, I suppose … but, they all saw. They don’t have to do the same old thing anymore. They realize that now.”
“They?” Abby asked. “You mean other historical characters?”
“We’re not characters, we’re people,” Lincoln said. “What I’m saying is that history might start to get a little mixed up. If Abigail Adams wants to become, oh, I don’t know, a pirate—what’s to stop her?”
“Who’s Abigail Adams?” Doc asked.
“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that,” Lincoln said. “But she did, you can bet. Look, I’m going to talk to them, all of them. I’ll do my best to keep things moving along as they should. But I can’t promise anything. You’re going to want to keep an eye on that history book of yours.”
“We will,” Abby said.
“And can I count on you?” Lincoln asked. “If I need your help to set things right?”
“Anytime,” Doc said. “You know where to find us.”
“Good.”
Lincoln shook hands with Abby and Doc.
Then he said to Mr. Biddle, “If you hurry, you can catch the last few wrestling matches.”