Ben Franklin’s Fame

  Contents

  PROLOGUE: TIME TRAVEL

  1. MONDAY

  2. THE GREEN HOLE

  3. 1776

  4. THE DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE

  5. 1752

  6. SEARCHING

  7. BOSTON

  8. TOO LATE

  9. JAMES FRANKLIN

  10. HOME

  A LETTER TO OUR READERS

  #7 WASHINGTON’S WAR EXCERPT

  ABOUT STACIA DEUTSCH AND RHODY COHON

  With love to Carol Kantor, aunt and business builder.

  Special thanks to Nathan Sigars for the conversation and the muscles.

  —Stacia

  To my gal pals:

  Allison, Liz, and Claire

  —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 hanging out and watching TV. Better than swimming. Even better than eating double chocolate chip ice cream.

  On Mondays after school, 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.”

  But, there is this evil woman named Babs Magee. She used to be Mr. C’s assistant. Then one day, she 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 just steal other people’s inventions or ideas. She figures if she can get a historic person to quit their dreams, she can do whatever that person was meant to do. She wants to get into our American history books and have everyone talk about “the Amazing Babs Magee.”

  It’s a lame way to get famous.

  When Mr. C discovered that people on his list of American historic figures were quitting, he knew he needed to set history straight. But since he is too busy working on a new invention, he asked Bo, Jacob, Zack, and me to help him out. It is 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 hand-held 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. We’ve never asked what happens after the time limit is up. I hope we never find out.

  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

  “We are going to learn about one of the most famous people in American history.” Mr. Caruthers, the most amazing teacher on planet Earth, leaned back on the edge of his desk and folded his arms across his chest.

  It was 8:05 and Mr. C had just arrived in class. Every Monday Mr. C is late. And totally messy. Today his hair was sticking up. His suit was a crumpled disaster. And his glasses were falling off his nose.

  Mr. C didn’t seem to notice his appearance. Or maybe he didn’t care. It is part of what made him so cool. Mr. C is super smart and also a little absent-minded.

  We didn’t used to know why he was late and a mess, but now we do. . . .

  Every Monday morning, just before school, Mr. C creates a time-travel cartridge for our History Club meeting. When he seals the lid on the cartridge, there is always a huge explosion. He says the time-travel cartridge doesn’t work without the explosion.

  Why Mr. C doesn’t make the cartridges on a different day, or get up early enough to shower and change clothes afterward, I’ll never know. Maybe, like doughnuts, time-travel cartridges are better fresh.

  “This American is so famous, everyone recognizes his name,” Mr. C said as he pushed up his glasses. “We’ll be studying his accomplishments all week.”

  Usually, whoever Mr. C talks about in class is the same person we visit after school. Of all the kids in the third grade, Mr. C chose just Jacob, Zack, Bo, and me for History Club. The four of us are table partners and we take the responsibility very seriously.

  “Who do you think we’ll meet today?” I leaned over and whispered to Zack while Mr. C paused to straighten his tie and run his fingers through his hair.

  “Hmm,” Zack wondered aloud. “Someone so famous, we can talk about him all week . . . Maybe Elvis Presley?” He played a little air guitar and wiggled his knee under the table. “Wouldn’t it be rockin’ to visit the King?”

  “Groovy,” I said with a laugh. Zack is the funniest guy I know. And, yeah, it would be cool to visit Elvis, but I didn’t think that’s who we were studying today.

  I looked past Zack to his twin brother Jacob.

  Jacob and Zack might look the same, but their personalities are totally opposite. Jacob is neat and clean and organized, whereas Zack is always a wreck.

  Today Zack was wearing jeans and a T-shirt, with parts of his breakfast on the front. I could easily recognize syrup and chocolate milk.

  “Who do you think Mr. C’s talking about?” I asked Jacob.

  “Bill Gates would be my guess,” Jacob replied. “He’s ‘the father of modern computing,’ you know.” Jacob was wearing khaki pants and a T-shirt with a computer on the front. He really likes computers.

  It was a good idea, but usually we only visit people who have been dead a long time. As far as I know, Bill Gates lives in Seattle.

  Bo was sitting the farthest away from me at our table. He was wearing sweatpants and a long-sleeved gray sweatshirt. Bo’s real name is Roberto, but we call him Bo for short. I would have asked him who he thought it was, but Mr. C had cleaned himself up and was now pacing in front of the room, lecturing as he walked.

  “The man we will be learning about was an inventor, politician, soldier, statesman, poet, ambassador, shopkeeper, bookseller, printer.” Mr. C stopped to catch his breath before adding, “Cartoonist, scientist, journalist, chess player, weight lifter, and he loved to read, too.”

  Now I was certain it wasn’t Elvis or Bill Gates.

  “Please get your textbooks,” Mr. C instructed. There was a rustling of papers as we all rushed to pull our books out from the little shelves under our desks.

  When we were ready, Mr. C said, “Turn to page one-forty-four.” He paused, giving us just enough time to find the page number. “There, in the middle of the page, is a picture of an American legend: our famous forefather, Benjamin Franklin.”

  Mr. C started searching for the correct page in his teacher’s guide, when Maxine Wilson’s hand flew up in the air. “Excuse me, Mr. C,” she interrupted. “There’s no picture of Ben Franklin in my book.”

  Hands were popping up all over the classroom. Everyone was reporting the same thing: Ben Franklin was not in our textbooks.

  Mr. C looked down at his teacher’s guide. He had a confused look on his face. I could tell that Ben Franklin wasn’t in there either.

  Khoi Nguyen raised his hand and then informed him, “There’s a painting of some woman in the middle of page one-forty-four.”

  “That’s odd,” Mr. C said as he stood tall and slowly wandered toward Khoi’s desk. “Just yesterday I reviewed my notes for this morning’s class.” Mr. C scratched his head, then pushed up his glasses. H
e glanced down at Khoi’s book. “I am certain that Ben Franklin is on page one-forty-four.”

  I looked at my own page 144. I checked the number. And then double-checked.

  It was true. Ben Franklin wasn’t there. I studied the painting of the woman. The small sketch was blurry.

  In the drawing, the lady’s face was half covered by a floppy hat. She was standing next to an old-fashioned printing press, showing a printed document to two men. The woman looked sort of familiar, but I didn’t know from where.

  I gave up trying to place the woman’s face. I turned a few pages in the book to see if Ben Franklin was on page 145 or 244. Knowing Mr. C, it was possible that he wasn’t remembering correctly.

  Bo, Zack, and Jacob flipped through their books also. We were all looking for Ben Franklin.

  Bo loves to read. He’s the newest member of our class. The first thing I found out about him was that he reads everything and remembers everything he’s ever read.

  “Something isn’t right,” Bo said, rubbing his chin. The second thing I learned about him was that Bo always rubs his chin when he’s thinking hard.

  Turning to the index in the back of the book, Bo ran one finger down the names, then reported to us, “There’s no Ben Franklin in our American history books at all.”

  One more thing about Bo is that he is shy. Especially around adults. There was no way he was going to announce his discovery to our teacher. But I’m bold and never shy. So I decided to tell Mr. C myself.

  I raised my hand and held it there for a second. But when Mr. C didn’t call on me immediately, I lowered it again. A thought was trying to break through into my brain.

  An important thought.

  I looked again at page 144. This time I studied the picture. I read the words under the drawing. When I realized the truth, I raised my hand so fast, the motion shot me up and out of my chair.

  “Mr. C!” I called across the room. He’d given up trying to find Ben Franklin in Khoi’s book and for some reason was flipping through the pages of Cindy Cho’s history book. I guess he thought the two books were different.

  “Be patient, Abigail,” he said as he licked his finger and sped through the pages.

  I heard Zack laugh and say, “That’s like telling an elephant to tiptoe.” Zack was being goofy, but he was right. I’m never patient. I try, but it’s just too hard.

  I was standing near my desk, bouncing on my toes, holding one hand up above my head, waiting for Mr. C to call on me.

  While I waited, I happened to look down at Bo. He was carefully reading page 144. His eyes went big like a UFO when he also realized what was going on.

  Jacob and Zack were still skimming through their own books searching for Ben Franklin.

  “He’s not in there,” I told them, dropping my hand and coming around the table. I turned Zack’s book back to page 144 and placed the textbook between them so they could view the page together.

  “Stop looking at the picture. Just read the page instead. It says right here”—I pointed to the exact words—“ ‘She’s the most famous statesman, inventor, and printer in American history!’ ” I skimmed down the long list of all the things she’d done. “She also enjoyed weight lifting and playing chess.”

  “Oh, no!” Jacob and Zack groaned at exactly the same time.

  “Oh, yes!” I replied in a loud, full voice. “Ben Franklin has been replaced by Babs Magee!”

  The Green Hole

  “Abigail”—Mr. C put his finger up to his lips—“Shhh. You are making too much noise.”

  “Sorry,” I apologized. “But Mr. C, did you read page one-forty-four?”

  “Not yet,” Mr. C admitted. “I was busy looking for the correct page for Ben Fran—” his voice broke off as he began to read the words from Cindy Cho’s book.

  Mr. C suddenly announced, “Class dismissed.”

  “What?” Khoi said, jaw hanging open. “We haven’t learned anything yet.”

  “Go outside for recess,” Mr. C told everyone. Then, a little impatiently, he waved his hands at us and added, “Now.”

  “But, Mr. C, it’s not time for recess,” Eliana Feinerman argued. She was staring at our teacher as if he had gone nutty.

  “Fine.” Mr. C swept the papers on his desk into a crumpled pile, preparing to run out of the room. “If you don’t want recess, you can go next door to Mrs. Hodgkin’s class for an extra period of math.”

  “No! Please. Not Mrs. Hodgkin. Anyone but Mrs. Hodgkin,” Zack whined. “Can’t we have more PE? Science? I’d even pick language arts over math.”

  I cut him off, whispering, “Mellow out, Zack. You, me, Jacob, and Bo aren’t going to math. We have to help Mr. C.” I pointed down to our history book. The picture that seemed fuzzy before was now staring very clearly up at me. Even in the small drawing, I could tell that Babs Magee was wearing her usual yellow hat and matching coat, smiling her sneaky smile.

  “Obviously,” I said softly to the boys, “Babs Magee won this time. She finally convinced someone to quit. She convinced Ben Franklin!” I reviewed the list of stuff our book said Babs had been: Politician. Inventor. Visionary. The list went on and on.

  She’d taken credit for everything Ben Franklin had done, and now she was known as one of the world’s most famous Americans. She finally got the fame she wanted. By stealing Benjamin Franklin’s life!

  What happened to poor Ben Franklin? I wondered. Where had he gone?

  I looked over at Mr. C. His glasses had slipped back down his nose, but he didn’t push them up. “Don’t move,” he told the class, motioning like a traffic cop for everyone to stop. “I’ll be right back.” Mr. C rushed out of the room.

  I heard the door to Mrs. Hodgkin’s classroom open. Mr. C’s voice echoed in the hallway.

  A few seconds later, he came back. “It’s all been arranged,” Mr. C announced. “A sudden emergency has come up. Today, the entire class will go next door for a double math period.” Everyone groaned, even Zack.

  I was going to poke Zack, but Jacob did it first. “I don’t think Mr. C means us,” Jacob said.

  Suddenly I was full of doubt. Mr. C would want us to help him put Ben Franklin back into history, wouldn’t he? We were going to time-travel, weren’t we? Maybe he planned to do it himself. I just assumed he’d want Bo, Zack, Jacob, and me to go. We’d done so well on all our other adventures. Then again, my mom says never assume.

  “Abigail, Jacob, Zack, and Bo,” Mr. C interrupted my rambling thoughts. He came close to us and whispered, “Stay here while I lead the rest of the class next door.”

  When the door closed and we were alone in the classroom, I turned to the boys and said confidently, “I knew he’d want our help.”

  Mr. C stuck his head back in the classroom and told us to hurry. We practically had to jog to keep up as we followed him to the back of the school gym and down the stairs.

  “I knew Babs Magee would try to convince Ben Franklin to quit today. He’s next on my list of names. I just didn’t realize that she’d get this far, this fast.” Mr. C took a key from his pocket and opened the wooden door to his laboratory. “I made the time-travel cartridge for you this morning.”

  I thought about saying, “Duh.” I mean, looking at his suit and hair, it was pretty obvious he’d already made the cartridge. It was hard, but I held my tongue.

  Mr. C went on. “I was going to give it to you after school, but now we can’t waste any time.” Mr. C didn’t say anything else as he crossed the room. He bent down next to a locked safe and began to press the buttons for the combination.

  He took our time-travel computer and a small cartridge from the safe.

  “Babs Magee has made a terrible mess of history. Find Ben Franklin and put things back.” He held out the computer and cartridge toward Jacob.

  Jacob reached out, but suddenly, Mr. C snatched back his own hand. “Maybe I should do this myself,” he said, with a distant look in his eyes. “History has already been altered. Fixing it is a huge respo
nsibility. We can only hope Babs hasn’t already created mass confusion and that when history is saved, people will immediately forget about her.”

  Mr. C looked down at the black cartridge in his hand. “I am also concerned about the danger you might face when you run into Babs Magee.”

  “Danger?” Zack repeated softly. “What does he mean by danger?” This time Zack wasn’t joking. For all his silliness, Zack also has a healthy heaping of worry. “Today is not a good day to die,” he said, tapping his foot wildly. “I have big plans for tomorrow. I’m going to join the Pottery Club.”

  “That’ll only last a few days,” Jacob said, and gave his brother an elbow in the ribs. “I mean, last week you were in Musical Theater for two days. And you didn’t even make it ten minutes into Chemistry Club before you asked to go to the bathroom and never came back.”

  “Chemistry Club wasn’t my thing,” Zack said with a grimace. “All I’m saying is that I can’t go around getting killed today. I have things to do tomorrow!”

  “No one’s getting killed,” I reassured Zack.

  “Yeah,” Jacob said to his brother. “Zack, stop being such a ninny.”

  “I’m not a ninny,” Zack countered. “You are.”

  Bo must have seen Zack’s hand ball into a fist before I did. He jumped between them, saying softly, “It’s not about pottery. It’s about history. Do you want Babs Magee to finally win her place by stealing Ben Franklin’s fame?”

  Zack’s fist relaxed. Jacob took a step back. And I turned to Mr. C, saying, “We’re ready. We can do this.”

  “Yeah,” Jacob added. “We can handle it.”

  “Are you sure?” Mr. C lowered his eyelids and looked suspiciously at Jacob and Zack. “There can be no fighting or arguing on this mission.” He then looked at each of us in turn. “It will take all of your skills. You’ll have to work together.”

  “We can do it,” I said again with confidence. The boys immediately agreed. Jacob and Zack even called an official truce.

  “All right,” Mr. C said with a nod. “You are searching for the moment when Babs Magee steered Ben Franklin off course.” Mr. C was very serious. “If you can get him back onto his life’s path, the rest will unfold properly.”