Contents
1. MONDAYS
2. T.T.
3. BOSTON, MASSACHUSETTS
4. TRICKED
5. ALEXANDER GRAHAM BELL
6. FIRE
7. THE FUTURE
8. 9-1-1
9. TINKERING
10. HOME AGAIN
A LETTER TO OUR READERS
ABOUT STACIA DEUTSCH AND RHODY COHON
To those who showed me the writer’s path: the women of Ohio Valley, especially Jan Scarbrough and Toni Blake. Kathy Flake, writer, reader, and promoter extraordinaire. And Hilary Sare, who gave me my first break. And to my husband, who supported me throughout my journey.
Thank you.
—S. D.
Thanks to my family for their love and support.
—R. C.
Mondays
“Hello, Abigail,” Mr. Caruthers said when I opened the classroom door.
I blinked twice.
“Mr. Caruthers?” I was surprised to see my teacher sitting at his desk. Our teacher was always late to class on Mondays. And he usually sat on his desk, never behind it.
I popped my head back into the hallway. The sign on the door read ROOM 305.
There was no mistake. I was definitely in the right place.
Something weird was going on.
“Good morning, Zack and Jacob,” Mr. Caruthers greeted the twins as they entered behind me.
“Huh?” Zack said, staring blankly at our teacher. He was confused too.
We hurried to our table. Zack, Jacob, and I sit with a new kid named Roberto Rodriguez. Maybe he knew what was up.
“Hey, Bo,” Jacob whispered. “What’s Mr. C doing here?” Our teacher was so cool, we always called him Mr. C.
Bo answered in a voice so soft, I could barely hear him. “I was the first one to class. When I saw him at his desk, I thought I was in the wrong room. I almost left.” Bo was so quiet and shy, it wasn’t hard to imagine him leaving the classroom and running away. He doesn’t like talking to grown-ups. I was actually kind of surprised he stayed. He must really like social studies. Or Mr. C.
“I did the same thing,” I said. I pulled out my chair and sat down.
It was totally strange.
Every Monday, Mr. Caruthers was five minutes late to class.
Every Monday, his clothes were wrinkled and messy.
Every Monday, his glasses sat way down on his nose. And his hair stuck up, way up to the sky.
But today, he was on time. His suit was neat. His tie was tied. His glasses were where they were supposed to be. Even his hair was combed.
And he was sitting in his chair!
“Is it really Monday?” I asked Zack.
“I think so,” Zack answered. “Do you think this has something to do with T.T.?”
“T.T.?” I questioned. “What’s T.T.?”
Zack leaned over and put his hand around my ear. “Time travel,” he whispered.
I didn’t say anything. I just winked one eye and nodded.
Bo, Jacob, Zack, and I knew the secret reason why Mr. C was messy and late on Mondays.
Mr. C was an inventor. In his private, hidden laboratory under the school, Mr. C had created a time-travel computer. It looked like a handheld video game, but when he put a special cartridge in the back, a smoky, green, glowing time-travel hole opened in the floor.
He was always messy because when he made the cartridge there was a wicked explosion. The time-travel cartridge didn’t work without the explosion.
We thought the reason he was always late to class was because he was time traveling, but we were wrong. Mr. C told us he was always late because he was working on another, brand-new, hush-hush invention. He barely slept, and never had time to change clothes or shower. On Monday mornings he’d rush to class after the bell had already rung.
We knew his secrets because Jacob, Zack, Bo, and I were Mr. C’s helpers.
Mr. C wanted more time to focus on his new invention, so he asked us to time-travel for him. He explained to us that American history was in danger. He showed us a little black book full of names. For some mysterious reason, all the famous Americans on Mr. C’s list were quitting. They weren’t inventing, or speaking out, or fighting for what was right. They were giving up on their dreams!
Our mission was to save history from changing forever!
We time-traveled on Mondays during the after-school club time.
It was weird. We would leave on a Monday, but it wasn’t always a Monday when we arrived in the past. We would leave at three o’clock, but it wasn’t always three o’clock when we got to the past. And yet, the clock ticks at the same speed in the past as it does in our time. Time travel is crazy like that!
So far, we’d been very successful in our adventures. We’d managed to keep history on track—no small thing, since the computer only gives us two hours to get the job done.
We didn’t know what would happen if we went over the two-hour limit. And we didn’t want to know. The time-travel computer might have a freak-out. And if we weren’t home by the end of club time, so would our parents. That is why we had to hustle and be careful about how much time we spent in the past.
Every Monday, we crossed our fingers and hoped that Mr. Caruthers would send us on another adventure. But lately, instead of T.T., Mr. C kept sending us to the library! The past two Monday afternoons, we’d been sitting around, reading boring books about Alexander Graham Bell.
Brrring.
The bell rang. It was time for class to start.
Mr. Caruthers stood up from his chair. He cleared his throat and asked, “What if Alexander Graham Bell had quit and never invented the telephone?” Our whole class loved Mr. C’s “what if?” questions. He asked them every Monday.
Could today’s “what if?” question be a clue? Could it be our day to go on a T.T. adventure? Mr. C had made us read about Alexander Graham Bell in the library. Now he was asking about Alexander Graham Bell in class. I didn’t want to get too excited, just in case I was wrong.
I looked over at the boys. I wanted to ask them if they thought the Alexander Graham Bell question might be a sign. I stared at Jacob. He didn’t look at me. Then I stared at Bo. He wasn’t looking at me either. So I tried staring at the side of Zack’s head until my eyes hurt.
It was useless.
Bo, Jacob, and Zack each had his hand raised. They weren’t thinking about T.T. anymore. They were thinking about the question.
I decided to forget about T.T. for a little while too. I raised my hand because I knew what my life would be like if Alexander Graham Bell had never invented the telephone.
I wanted to tell Mr. C how horrible it would be if there were no telephones. The world would feel so big and disconnected.
I’d have to walk to my friends’ houses and wait for them to get home. I’d have to write letters to my relatives who lived far away. And wait for them to write back. I’d have to wait to see my parents just so I could ask them a question.
Without telephones, my whole life would be spent waiting around. I’m definitely not good at waiting. In fact, I am probably the most impatient person in the whole entire universe.
I wanted to tell Mr. C what I thought, so I raised my hand higher and waved it in the air. I bounced in my seat, trying to get Mr. C’s attention. I wiggled so much, I nearly fell off my chair.
Mr. C called on Gitma. She said that Alexander Graham Bell’s invention of the telephone had made a whole bunch of other things possible, like voice mail, call-waiting, cell phones, text messaging, the Internet, and e-mail.
Mr. C called on Rishad. He said that without the phone, there’d be no fax machines. Rishad had never sent a fax. But his dad sent them every day
at work.
Mr. C had called on every kid in the room. Except me.
When class was over, I felt like I’d been kicked in the stomach. Mr. C always called on me! I didn’t understand what had happened.
I’m a good student. I have good ideas. I was angry with Mr. Caruthers for ignoring me. So I marched up to Mr. C to ask him why he hadn’t called on me. “What’s going on?” I asked boldly. “You never called—”
Mr. C put up one hand and stopped me. “Abigail,” he said in a low, clipped voice, “I’ll see you after school, right?”
“But—,” I began again.
“Abigail,” Mr. C repeated. “Three o’clock in the library.”
I sighed. I didn’t feel like wasting another stupid Monday in the library, reading about Alexander Graham Bell. But if I ever wanted to time-travel again, I didn’t have a choice. “Yes, Mr. Caruthers,” I mumbled. “I’ll be there.”
Then, to make a strange Monday even stranger, Mr. Caruthers winked.
T.T.
Jacob was waiting for me by the door to the library.
“What was the deal with Mr. C today?” Jacob asked in a whispered voice. We walked past the librarian’s desk and headed to our regular meeting place.
“I have no idea,” I answered. I counted the weird-nesses on my fingers: “He was dressed neatly. He was on time. He sat at his desk. He didn’t call on me. And he winked at me when I was leaving.” I wiggled all five fingers. “Yep, it was a very weird morning.”
Jacob started to say something back, but we saw Bo waving at us. We stopped talking and walked faster instead.
Bo was sitting on a corner couch. There was a big stack of books on the table next to him. Bo loved to read. He was taking this extra assignment very seriously.
Bo picked up a book off the table. It was a copy of Mr. C’s favorite book: Famous People in American History. Bo flipped through the pages and handed the open book to me.
I read the title of the chapter out loud: “ ‘Alexander Graham Bell and His Many Inventions.’ ” I let out a long breath. It was definitely going to be another dull day in the library.
A minute later, Zack showed up. He put down his backpack and settled onto the couch. But before he leaned back, Zack noticed Jacob’s left foot. “Your shoelace is untied,” he told his brother.
“I know,” Jacob answered. “I like it that way.”
“You’re going to trip,” Zack warned. “You’ll break your leg. Or maybe you’ll slip and spill something.”
“I will not,” Jacob countered. “My shoes are always untied. Do you see me falling all over the place?”
“Just tie your shoe!” Zack demanded, but Jacob ignored him. Zack’s face turned a little red, as if he was ready to pick a fight. But he must have decided to forget it, because he slumped back onto the couch instead.
I looked down at the book in my hands. There were a lot of pictures on the page. “Look at all these other things Alexander Graham Bell invented,” I said, pointing to the pictures. “I thought he just made phones.” I gave Bo back the book.
“He was a tinkerer,” Bo explained. “Alexander Graham Bell worked on projects for a while until he got tired of them. Then he gave up and went to work on something else.”
“What else did he tinker with?” Jacob was curious. Jacob was a tinkerer too. He loved computers and was always taking them apart and rebuilding them. Sometimes he’d use old computer parts to make other cool stuff.
“Alexander Graham Bell invented tons of things,” Bo answered. “After the telephone, he worked on air-conditioning, a high-speed boat, a bullet detector, and a way to send information over rays of light. He even tried inventing the airplane.”
“I thought the Wright brothers invented the airplane,” I questioned.
“They did,” Bo said. “But Alexander Graham Bell was also working on an airplane around the same time. He did get his plane to fly, but it was after the Wright brothers had already made history with the first flight.”
“Cool,” I commented. “Alexander Graham Bell must have been one busy guy.”
“Yeah,” Bo agreed, then he turned the book toward Jacob. “Look. This is a photo of Bell’s drawing for the first telephone. But here it says that Alexander Graham Bell wasn’t trying to make a phone. He was working on inventing a multiple telegraph.”
“A what?” I asked.
“A multiple telegraph,” a deep voice said from behind me. I turned around to find Mr. Caruthers standing over my shoulder. He was holding a small box under his arm. “In eighteen seventy-five, Alexander Graham Bell was working on a way for people to send many telegrams at once,” Mr. Caruthers explained. He put the box down on the couch and took off the lid.
Inside, there was a small metal machine. It had short legs, springs, and a little lever to press.
“I read about telegrams last Monday,” Jacob said excitedly.
Mr. Caruthers handed Jacob the telegraph machine.
Jacob pushed the lever down and released it. The telegraph machine made a clicking sound. “In the olden days, if you wanted to send your friend a letter really quickly, you could send a telegram. It was sort of like old-fashioned e-mail.”
“I read the same book,” Zack said, taking the telegraph machine from his brother. “I even read it before Jacob.” He grinned, showing all his teeth.
Zack pressed the lever. He made a few long taps. Then he pressed the lever really quickly, making a click-clack sound.
“Short taps are called ‘dots,’ ” Zack said. “Long taps are called ‘dashes.’ In Morse code, dots and dashes stand for the letters of the alphabet. A person at the post office would type your letter in Morse code and send the code over a wire,” he explained. “At a different post office, a person would write down the alphabet letters as they came in. They would decipher the code. And there was your letter!” Zack handed the machine back to Mr. Caruthers.
I was surprised at how much the boys knew about telegraph machines and telegrams. Clearly, I’d been reading the wrong books. I knew a lot about Alexander Graham Bell’s life when he was a kid.
Mr. Caruthers put the telegraph machine back in the box and then explained, “Alexander Graham Bell was working on a multiple telegraph when he started to think about sending voices instead of dots and dashes. On March 10, 1876, he invented the telephone.”
“Bo told us he changed his mind a lot,” I said to Mr. Caruthers. “I guess he changed from inventing telegraphs to inventing telephones.”
Mr. Caruthers nodded. It was then that I noticed Mr. Caruthers had changed too. He’d changed clothes.
I looked at Mr. Caruthers more carefully. No, he hadn’t changed clothes. He was wearing the same suit. Only it was messy. Really messy!
I looked at him even more closely. His tie was untied. His glasses were crooked. And his hair—it looked like mine before I brushed it in the morning!
Now I knew it was really Monday! He must have made a brand-new cartridge. That’s why he was so messy.
“I need you to go on a time-travel mission,” Mr. Caruthers confirmed.
“Yippee!” I cheered. I turned to the boys. They were shouting and making up silly, happy handshakes.
“Shh,” Mr. Caruthers said, laughing. “I guess you were tired of reading in the library?”
“You know it!” I quietly cheered.
Suddenly, Mr. C’s face got still, and he became serious. “Alexander Graham Bell quit.”
My heart began to race. It was time.
We knew what we had to do. We had to convince Alexander Graham Bell to invent the telephone.
“I’m sorry I didn’t ask you kids to time-travel the last two weeks, but I wanted you to prepare for today’s mission,” Mr. C said, and ran a hand over his tangled hair. It flattened for a second, then popped right back up again.
“Yesterday, I got so caught up working on my new invention, I forgot to make the cartridge.” He shrugged apologetically. “I just finished it.”
Mr. C had
told us that whatever he was working on was top secret. I was just about to try to sneak in a question about the new invention when Mr. Caruthers handed Jacob the time-travel computer and a cartridge. The cartridge had a picture of a telephone on it.
When I saw the cartridge, my heart sped up another beat. We had two hours to convince Alexander Graham Bell to finish inventing the telephone.
I decided to ask about the new invention another time. We had to get started! I didn’t want to think about my life without telephones. “We’re ready,” I told Mr. Caruthers.
Jacob slipped the new cartridge into the back of the computer. A glowing green hole opened in the floor next to a tall shelf of books. There was thick smoke floating across the floor.
Bo didn’t hesitate. He jumped in first.
“How are we going to find Alexander Graham Bell?” Zack asked before jumping. Zack liked to time-travel, but he worried a lot. “We’re going to eighteen seventy-six and we don’t know where he is. And we can’t call him.” Zack was also very funny.
“We’ll find him,” I assured Zack.
With a big sigh, Zack followed Bo into the hole.
“Hey, Mr. Caruthers,” I said, turning back to our teacher. “Why didn’t you call on me in class today?”
“I didn’t mean to turn a deaf ear,” Mr. Caruthers said, as if that would make it all crystal clear.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“You’ll figure it out,” Mr. C replied. “It’s a clue to help you understand Alexander Graham Bell.” Our teacher was certainly one mysterious guy.
“But I don’t understand,” I said, stepping forward. “What do you mea—”
I never finished my question because I tripped over Jacob’s shoelace. As I fell into the hole, I grabbed Jacob’s arm and pulled him in with me.
Boston, Massachusetts
“Oof,” I said as I crash-landed on top of Jacob. I had no idea where we were. We were definitely inside a room, but it was so dark, I couldn’t even see my hands. I waved them around a bit to check. Nope. I couldn’t see anything.
Bell’s Breakthrough Page 1
