Contents
PROLOGUE: TIME TRAVEL
1. MONDAY
2. WHO?
3. VALLEY FORGE
4. MW
5. GW
6. THE FUTURE
7. ARMY, NAVY
8. AIR FORCE
9. MARINES
10. FEBRUARY 16, 1778
A LETTER TO OUR READERS
BETSY ROSS’S STAR EXCERPT
ABOUT STACIA DEUTSCH & RHODY COHON
To my friends who held my hands: Robin Abrams, Erika Frady, Yanina Feinerman, and Annie Zeigon. With special love to Leah Hochman, who made me eat fish. And as always, to Rhody, who wouldn’t let me quit.
—Stacia
To Mom and Dad. Thank you.
—Rhody
Prologue
Time Travel
If you said to me, “Hey, Abigail! What’s your favorite thing in the whole world?” I would have to answer, “History Club.”
History Club is way better than playing video games. Better than riding my bike. Even better than eating pizza with pineapple and olives.
After school on Mondays, our third-grade teacher, Mr. Caruthers, sends three of my friends and me on a mission back in time. Jacob, his twin brother Zack, Bo, and I call our top secret time-travel adventures History Club.
And our teacher, Mr. Caruthers, is so super cool, we call him Mr. C.
One day, a woman named Babs Magee stole a time-travel computer that Mr. C invented in his laboratory under the school gym. Now she’s popping around history, visiting important people on a list of names that Mr. C made.
Babs Magee wants to be famous. But she doesn’t want to work for it. She’d rather steal other people’s inventions or ideas.
It’s a lame way to get famous.
When Mr. C discovered what Babs Magee was doing, he knew he needed to keep history straight. Since he is too busy working on a new invention, he asked Bo, Jacob, Zack, and me to help him out. It’s our job to go back in time and convince those famous Americans not to give up their dreams.
Mr. C gave us a brand-new time-travel computer. It looks like a handheld video game with a larger screen and extra buttons. When we put a special cartridge in the back, a glowing green hole opens and we jump through time. Taking the cartridge out brings us home again.
We have two hours to get the task done. So far, we’ve been really lucky. On all our adventures, Jacob, Zack, Bo, and I have managed to keep history on track. We’ve foiled Babs Magee’s schemes, and landed back at school with seconds to spare.
Today is Monday. I can hardly wait for school to end and History Club to begin.
Monday
When I entered the classroom, Maxine Wilson was already sitting at her table.
“Hey, Abigail,” she greeted me, like always. I’ve been friends with Maxine since kindergarten. She’s an awesome person and she has a really awesome stopwatch.
“Are you ready?” I asked her.
“Ready, Freddy,” Maxine replied. She held up her stopwatch and winked at me.
The school bell was the signal.
Brrring.
Maxine pressed the little black button on her watch. We all rushed to our seats and turned to stare at the classroom door. No one dared look away, not even for a second.
Maxine kept track of the time. “Five minutes.” She began the countdown. “Four minutes and thirty seconds.”
Maxine announced the time until there were only ten seconds left. The whole class always chanted the last ten seconds out loud together: “Ten. Nine. Eigh—”
The door swung open. Was it our favorite teacher, Mr. C? Could he be early for the first time all year? Nope.
“I had to make a pit stop on the way to class,” Zack explained to everyone as he walked into the classroom.
“Sit down! Quick!” I told him. “Mr. C will be here in a few seconds.”
“I’ve got plenty of time.” Zack yawned as he dragged himself over to our table. Zack and I sat with Jacob and our new friend Bo. Bo’s real name is Roberto Rodriguez.
“Four seconds,” Maxine warned. Zack plopped into his chair and turned to face the door. “Three. Two. One. Zero.” Just as Maxine clicked off her stopwatch, the classroom door swung open. This time, it really was our teacher.
“See?” Zack said, leaning over and whispering in my ear. “I told you I had plenty of time. I saw Mr. C in the hallway when I was headed to class. I rushed ahead to get here first and—”
“Be quiet.” Jacob cut Zack off. “Mr. C’s about to begin.”
Zack snorted at his brother and challenged, “Make me.”
Even though the boys were twins, they were as different as night and day.
Today Zack was wearing long pants that were torn in a hundred places. Different-colored patches covered the rips. He had a sweatshirt on that looked like it was older than my great-grandma. Breakfast stains were all over the sleeve. When it came to personality, Zack complained a lot and quit everything he tried. But he was totally funny and always came through when we needed him most.
Jacob, on the other hand, was neat and clean and focused on just one thing: computers. Today he was wearing a Hawaiian shirt, khaki pants, a leather belt, and a button that read, “West Hudson Elementary School Computer Club.” Jacob was the Computer Club president.
Looking at the twins’ snarly faces, I was afraid they might start to fight, but they both turned toward Mr. C as soon as he started talking.
“My apologies for being late,” Mr. C said with a slight bow.
Every Monday was the same. Every Monday Mr. Caruthers was five minutes late. Every Monday he was wrinkled and messy. Only Jacob, Zack, Bo, and I knew the real reason why.
Mr. C never gave himself enough time on Mondays to make a time-travel cartridge for our History Club adventure and get to class on time, too. There was also a secret explosion that screwed up Mr. C’s clothes and hair. It happened when he put the lid on the cartridge. Even though we’ve asked, Mr. C won’t tell us why he doesn’t just make the cartridge on Sundays. It sure would be easier. And he’d definitely be neater.
While Mr. Caruthers straightened his crumpled suit jacket, retied his bow tie, and combed his hair, Zack softly said to me, “Did you hear the joke about George—”
“Not now,” I whispered back to Zack. “Mr. C is about to ask his ‘what-if’ question.”
Mr. C finished straightening his clothes and leaned back on the edge of his desk. He was too cool to sit in a chair like other teachers.
“What if,” he began, then paused. I sat up a little straighter.
Every Monday Mr. Caruthers asked us a new “what-if” question. He’d ask us to think about what the world would be like if someone famous gave up his or her dreams and quit. The discussion in class was always interesting and fun. But the best part was that whoever we talked about in class was the same person Zack, Jacob, Bo, and I would visit during History Club later.
I couldn’t wait to hear who we’d be visiting today.
Mr. C leaned back farther on his desk. “What if—”
“Hey, Abigail,” Zack poked me in the arm. “It’s a really good joke. Perfect for today! I heard it from two kids during my pit stop in the bathroom.”
“Shhh,” I hissed at Zack, and turned my attention back to Mr. C.
Zack poked me in the arm again. “Where did George Washington buy his ax?”
“I don’t care,” I replied, trying to hear what Mr. C was saying. I leaned forward, but all I could hear was Zack’s soft giggling.
“At the chopping mall,” Zack snickered. “That’s a good one, eh?”
“No,” I said, trying to keep my voice down. I usually think Zack is really funny, but the joke stank. And his timing s
tank too.
All around me hands were popping up in the air.
I couldn’t believe it; Zack made me miss the “what-if” question! I always have good suggestions for the discussion. But now I had no idea who was going to quit. Or who we were visiting after school. Drat Zack and his stupid chopping joke.
Mr. C called on Ryota Yoshida. “Well,” Ryota said confidently, “if he quit, there wouldn’t be thirty-one counties, seventeen cities, and one state named after him. That’s for sure.”
Anna Ramos didn’t really answer the question. Instead she shared a few facts. Anna said he was married but never had children of his own. She also knew that he had lived in Virginia, New York, and Philadelphia, but never in the nation’s capital.
I glanced over at Zack. Even though he’d ruined the question for me, maybe he knew who we were talking about. Besides, he was sitting closest to me at our table.
“Zack,” I whispered, “do you know who we—,” I began.
He interrupted me, saying, “What would you get if you crossed George Washington with cattle feed?”
I shook my head. I didn’t care about the answer to Zack’s joke. I just wanted to know who we were talking about in class!
I totally refused to look at Zack anymore and leaned toward Jacob. He was listening to the other students and didn’t notice me trying to catch his attention.
That left Bo. Bo reads a ton and knows everything about everything. He would totally know what was going on. I waved my hands trying to catch his eye.
Instead of getting Bo to look over at me, a horrible thing happened! Mr. C thought I wanted to be called on. “Abigail?” he asked me. “Do you have an idea what the world would be like if he quit?”
“I,” I began, then stopped. I ran through the clues in my head. Nothing helped. I still didn’t have any idea who we were talking about. I had two choices. One, tell Mr. C that I didn’t know who we were discussing, or two, guess. I went for guessing.
“I suppose,” I said, pretending I knew exactly what was going on, “that America wouldn’t be the great country it is today.” I hoped I didn’t sound dumb.
“Very nice,” Mr. C told me. I breathed a huge sigh of relief.
Then Mr. C asked Bo what he thought. Bo is very shy, especially around adults. He never volunteers to answer Mr. C’s questions so Mr. C just calls on him.
“Well.” Bo rubbed his chin as he talked. He did that when he was thinking really hard. “I suppose if he quit, America would have lost the Revolutionary War. We’d still be part of Britain. We certainly wouldn’t have our own constitution since he helped write it. And—”
I knew I was so close to finding out who we were talking about. My heart began to beat faster. I scooted up to the very edge of my chair. My ears were prickling. I was ready to hear the rest of Bo’s answer and find out the name. . . .
“And”—Bo paused a second, rubbing his chin even harder—“if he quit, he’d never have been the very first—”
Tap. Tap. Tap.
“What?!” I spun around to find Zack tapping on my shoulder. “Leave me alone.” I quickly turned my head back to face Bo.
“But, Abigail,” Zack whined, “don’t you want to know the answer to the joke?”
I could see Bo’s mouth moving, but because Zack was talking at the same time, I couldn’t hear what Bo was saying.
Tap.
“WHAT?!” I snapped at Zack. Of course, I snapped in a whisper so we wouldn’t get into trouble.
“The fodder of our country.” Zack grinned widely. “That’s the answer to the riddle.” I stared at him blankly.
“Remember?” he said. “What do you get if you cross George Washington with animal feed?” He poked me in the arm. “The fodder of our country. Get it? Fodder is what farmers call hay and stuff like that.” Zack’s belly was shaking with silent giggles. He had to hold on to the edge of his desk to keep from falling off his seat.
I turned away, totally annoyed.
When I finally caught up with the class discussion again, Mr. C was saying, “Good job, Bo. You have an excellent understanding of American history.”
Just then, the bell rang. Class was over.
My favorite class was ruined.
I banged my head down on my desk with a crash.
Who?
I was mad at Zack. And I was embarrassed. I couldn’t tell anyone that I didn’t know who we’d talked about in social studies, especially since I’d answered a question about the mystery man, pretending I knew what was going on.
I would have to figure out who it was using detective skills. Good thing I am super curious and like to ask questions. If I nosed around, no one would think it was different from any other day.
The first chance I had was a couple of hours later during recess. I found Cindy Cho on the playground near the slide.
“So,” I said casually as I approached, “how’d you like Mr. C’s class today?”
Cindy climbed up the slide as she answered. “I loved talking about him. I had no idea that he didn’t wear a wig but put white powder in his hair instead.” She zoomed down the slide, adding, “I also didn’t know that his teeth were made of bone or ivory, not wood.”
More interesting facts I’d missed in class. Double drat that Zack Osborn and his dopey jokes.
“And what about Mr. C’s question?” I asked slyly. “What do you think the world would be like if he quit?” I hoped that Cindy hadn’t answered the question in class. I didn’t think Mr. C had called on her, but honestly, I was having a hard time remembering. I was going to have a serious talk with Zack when I got the chance.
“Oh,” Cindy said before running off to the swings, “I thought the same as you!” And with that, she hustled away. No luck there.
In the hall on the way to math, I caught up with Juan Garcia standing by his locker.
“So,” I said, leaning against the wall nearby, trying to look like I wasn’t up to anything, “were you surprised by Mr. C’s ‘what-if’ question in class today?”
“No way,” Juan replied. He took a few books out of his locker. “We were talking about the best military general in American history.”
I nodded, acting like I knew exactly who Juan was talking about. Juan fake punched me in the shoulder and went to get a drink of water before the next class.
I was gathering more clues, but so far, I still didn’t know who Jacob, Zack, Bo, and I were going to visit after school.
Before math class began, I took out a piece of blank paper and wrote down everything I knew: “Married.” “Never lived in nation’s capital.” In parentheses next to that I wrote “Washington, D.C.,” because that’s the nation’s capital. “There are a lot of cities named after him. A state, too.” “Powdered hair.” “Ivory teeth.” “Military general.” “Lived during Revolutionary War.” “Helped create the United States Constitution.”
One or two more good clues and I could definitely solve this mystery.
During math class I sat between Noah Linkon and his cousin Devon. The Linkons were in Mr. C’s social studies class too, but I didn’t know either of them very well. They were assigned to a table across the room from me.
While we were waiting for our teacher to pass out the homework assignment, I whispered, “Have either of you been thinking about Mr. C’s question from class today?”
“Nah,” Devon said. “I was busy doing other stuff.” He told me he’d played soccer at recess and his team had won against a group of fifth graders.
I wasn’t really interested in talking about soccer, so I decided to turn to Noah instead. I asked, “Do you think there was anything more that Mr. C could have said about—” How was I going to phrase this? I paused to think before saying, “About that guy we talked about?”
I am pretty sure Noah immediately caught on that I didn’t know who I was talking about, because he replied, “That guy changed the course of history.” He obviously wasn’t going to give up the name. “Did you know that when that guy began his s
econd term, he gave the shortest inaugural address in history? His first one was short too, but that second one, wow, it was only one hundred thirty-five words.” He stopped, then added with a grin, “No one mentioned that fact in class, did they?”
I smiled like I was totally clued in. “You sure know a lot about that guy.”
“Yep,” he said. “I bet I know almost as much about that guy as Bo.” We both laughed. No one on earth could possibly know as much about anything as Bo.
Our teacher finished handing out the homework and the final bell rang. Right before I left the room, Noah tugged on my sleeve. He winked and said, “Think about last names.” I thought about his: Linkon. We’d already visited Abraham Lincoln.
“Did you ask Devon who their recess soccer goalie was?” Noah asked me. It was such a weird question.
“Dude,” Devon chimed in as he gathered his books, “Shanika doesn’t let anything get by her. She rocks.”
“Your goalie is Shanika Washing—?” I began, then stopped midthought. “Thanks,” I said quickly, and rushed out of the room.
School was over. The Linkons had given me the last few clues I needed. I was pretty sure I’d solved the mystery but wanted to be certain.
I knew I had to get to our social studies classroom to meet the boys for History Club, but I wanted to check something out first. I hurried into the school library.
In the reference section, I grabbed a dictionary off the shelf. “Inaugural,” I muttered to myself. Noah had mentioned that guy’s “second inaugural address.” I was a pretty good actress, because I didn’t know what “inaugural” meant. I had just grinned and nodded.
“In.” “Inane.” “Inattentive.” “Inaugural.” I found it.
“Marking a beginning.” Under the definition, the word was used in a sentence:
The president gave his inaugural address before he took office.
An inaugural address was a president’s first speech, marking the beginning of his term. An inaugural address meant that guy was president of the United States. A second address meant he was president twice.
Washington’s War Page 1
