Abby, Doc, and Mr. Biddle watched Abraham and Mary Lincoln walk away. Moments later, a huge cheer erupted in the center of town.
Abby and Doc smiled at each other. Their work was done.
“So,” Mr. Biddle said, “how do we get out of here?”
“That’s a good question,” Doc said.
“You mean you don’t know?”
“Well, we’ve done it before,” Abby said.
“So do it again,” Mr. Biddle said.
“But we don’t know how,” Abby said. “Last time, it sort of just happened.”
“That’s not exactly right,” Doc said.
“What do you mean?”
“We were talking with Lincoln, remember?” Doc said. “And I was telling him how all the kids in our class think history is … I don’t know if I can say it.”
“Say what?” Abby asked.
“I don’t want Lincoln to hear,” Doc said. “Or that Adams lady, whoever she is.”
He looked toward town.
“Just try it,” Abby said.
“But I don’t believe it anymore,” Doc said.
“Just say it,” Abby said.
Doc looked around. No one was watching. He said, very quietly, “History is boring.”
And they were gone.
The big cardboard box in the library storage room rocked back and forth and tipped over. The top flaps opened and Abby, Doc, and Mr. Biddle crawled out.
Mr. Biddle stood up and looked around.
“I should probably report this whole thing to Principal Darling,” he said. “Tell her that you guys pushed me into this box and then, well …”
He was about to say more—but he was stopped by a huge burst of shouts and claps from the crowd in the gym.
“The wrestling!” Mr. Biddle shouted. “I’m not too late!”
He ran out the door. Doc and Abby got up.
“So …” Abby said.
“Yeah,” Doc said.
They set the box upright.
“We better find Mom,” Abby said. “She was asking where you’ve been.”
“What should we tell her?” Doc asked.
“I don’t know. Studying history?”
Doc laughed. “She’ll never believe it.”
“I know. Fixing history?”
“But did we?” Doc asked. “I can’t tell if we fixed history or broke it.”
“I guess we’ll find out,” Abby said.
“Guess so.”
Doc turned off the light as they left the storage room. Abby made sure to shut the door behind them.
The room was quiet and dark. A streetlamp in the parking lot cast a faint yellow glow on the tall cardboard box.
Ten hours later, the sun began to rise. The library storage room slowly filled with light.
The cardboard box began to shake.
