Amelia Earhart’s red plane soared above a blue-green sea. The water glittered in bright sunlight and was dotted with small rocky islands. Far in the distance, small waves washed against a white beach.
Amelia leaned to her left and looked down.
“Not a part I’ve ever seen,” said Amelia. “Looks more like … the Mediterranean?”
“Uh-oh,” Abby said.
“Yeah,” agreed Doc.
Amelia turned to face them. “Do you two know what’s going on?”
“No,” Abby said. “But this is like what happened to the astronauts. Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin—they were going to the moon, but they suddenly landed in Texas.”
“In the 1800s,” Doc added. “There were angry cowboys.”
“How very inconvenient,” Amelia said.
“We wound up fixing everything,” Abby said. “Sort of.”
Amelia Earhart shook her head. “I really must get to Newfoundland tonight. I’m not the only woman who wants to be first across the Atlantic, you know. Another delay, and someone’s sure to beat me.”
“We’ll help you,” Doc said.
“And how do you propose to do that?” Amelia snapped. Then she sighed. “I’m sorry, children. I know this is not your fault.”
It wasn’t. Was it?
Amelia flew toward the land.
“First things first,” she said. “Let’s figure out where we are.”
They sailed over the coast, above rocky hills and forests of pine trees. A few minutes later they spotted a clearing, an area of flat land between green slopes. There were white marble buildings with tall columns and dirt paths between the buildings.
And two large fields. They looked like stadiums. One was empty, but the other was packed with thousands of people.
“It looks like Olympia,” Doc said. “I mean, I’ve only seen pictures.”
“Olympia?” Abby asked. “Where the Greek gods lived?”
“That’s Mount Olympus,” Doc explained. “Olympia is different. The site of the ancient Olympics.”
“Uh-oh,” Abby said again.
There really was some kind of competition going on in the stadium. Athletes stood at one end of the field. One of them ran forward with a long spear in his hand. He heaved it high into the air, and it sailed down the field and stuck point first into the reddish-brown dirt. A man in a purple robe ran out to mark the spot. The fans stood and cheered.
“The javelin throw,” Doc said.
“Excuse me,” Amelia Earhart said. “But are you telling me that’s the ancient Olympics down there?”
“Looks like it,” Doc said. He pressed his face against the window. “And the athletes do appear to be naked.”
Abby cringed. “Why was that a good idea?”
Doc laughed. “Supposedly they wore loincloths at first. But then this one guy tripped on his in a race, so he got rid of it. And he won!”
Amelia dove lower for a closer look.
Fans heard the buzz of the engine and looked up, pointing. The only person who didn’t notice the strange thing in the sky was the next javelin thrower—his eyes were closed, focused on the toss he was about to attempt.
With a grunt, he burst forward and threw his spear. The spear soared in a sky-high arc and—
“Look out!” Doc cried. “Javelin!”
—hit the side of the plane with a
Doc and Abby looked up.
The javelin had pierced the side of the plane, right above their heads. Doc touched the pointed tip with his finger.
Amelia turned to look. “Easily fixed,” she said calmly. “It’s just wood.”
“Wood?!” Doc asked. “This plane is made of wood?”
“They all were back then,” Abby said.
“You were going to cross the Atlantic in a wooden plane?”
“I still am, Doc. Hopefully,” Amelia said. “Right now, I better find somewhere to land.”
She circled a few hundred feet above Olympia. The grassy areas around the stadium were crowded with people and tents. The only open space was in the second arena—a huge dirt field surrounded by gently sloping hills.
“It’s the hippodrome,” Doc said. “The field for the chariot races.”
“That’s our spot!” Amelia said.