Amelia Earhart and the Flying Chariot

by Steve Sheinkin

  She yanked out the last loop in the knot. The rope fell to the ground. Kyniska whistled and the horses ran to her.

  Doc gave Amelia a thumbs-up.

  Amelia dropped into the seat of her plane. The engine coughed. Black smoke shot out. The propeller spun slowly, slowly—then burst into a whirl.

  The plane bounced down the field, picking up speed, and lifted into the air.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Abby and Doc dashed to the side of the track and leaped back into the stands.

  Panting like dogs, they watched Amelia’s plane climb above the hills near the hippodrome.

  “There she goes,” Abby said.

  “Why didn’t she take us?” Doc asked.

  “Don’t know,” Abby said, noticing the judges standing nearby. Several of them were glaring at her and Doc.

  Amelia’s plane turned back toward the hippodrome.

  “She’s coming back!” Doc called.

  “She’s not escaping?” Abby wondered. “Seems like a good time to escape.”

  The plane buzzed over the track, just a hundred feet off the ground. Amelia tore past all the chariots, reached the far end of the field in seconds, and banked into a sharp turn over the stone pillar.

  Kyniska’s face burst into a smile. “She’s going to try to win the race!”

  Amelia came roaring down the track. Fans looked up, pointing and cheering.

  “Final lap!” cried the herald. “Final lap!”

  As drivers called furiously to their horses, Amelia flew tight laps over the track, passing the chariots again and again. The teams in front rounded the far pole and swung back up the track toward the finish line.

  Amelia’s plane was right behind them.

  Forty thousand fans stomped and shrieked. Kyniska was shouting the loudest.

  Amelia tilted her plane’s nose down, diving to gain speed. She zipped just feet above the lead teams, roaring past the finish line for the win.

  “Yes!” Doc shouted.

  Abby jumped up and down, shouting, “Earhart! Earhart!”

  Kyniska grabbed them both in a rough embrace.

  “I won!” she whooped. “I am the champion!”

  The dust was still settling in the hippodrome as Amelia Earhart set her plane down.

  The track looked like a battlefield.

  Pieces of chariots littered the dirt. Drivers hobbled off the field. A few lay on the ground while doctors wrapped bandages around arms and legs and heads.

  “The judges will now present the prize to the winner,” Kyniska told Doc and Abby.

  “Just what we need,” Doc said. “Another olive wreath.”

  The wreath from yesterday was still in his back pocket, hidden by his T-shirt.

  “Normally, the owner would be on the field with the driver,” Kyniska said. Touching her beard, she added, “However, since I am not actually permitted to be here …”

  “I’m still mad about that,” Abby said.

  Kyniska laughed. “The true glory is being the champion. There will be parades when I return home. There will be statues of me, poems in my honor. Look—here come the judges with the prize!”

  Four men in purple robes carried a golden table toward Amelia’s airplane. There was something on the table. It was not an olive wreath.

  It was a hat. A tall black hat.

  “That sort of looks like …” Doc said.

  “But it couldn’t be …” Abby said.

  “What?” Kyniska demanded. “What is that thing?”

  “I don’t know,” Abby said. “It looks like Abraham Lincoln’s hat.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  The judges set the table down. One of the judges raised his arms, and the fans quieted down.

  “It is now time to present the prize to the winner!” another judge announced. “But the sacred wreath for this glorious event has been stolen!”

  The crowd hissed and booed.

  “Indeed, it is a terrible thing!” the judge continued. “However, when we went to get the prize this morning, we found that someone—perhaps Zeus himself—had replaced the missing wreath with this very special object!”

  The judge lifted the black hat. The crowd gasped.

  “We believe,” he told the stunned crowd, “it is meant to be worn on the head!”

  And he put the hat on. “How do I look?”

  “Absurd,” said a fellow judge.

  He took the hat off.

  “I now present this extraordinary prize,” proclaimed the judge, “to Kyniska, Princess of Sparta, and to her driver, Earhart of Kansas!”

  Amelia stood in her plane, waving to the crowd.

  She pulled off her goggles and helmet. Her hair flapped in the breeze.

  “Ah, much better,” she said. “First, let me congratulate the other teams for a marvelous race!”

  The entire arena went silent. The judges looked at each other.

  “Is Earhart a woman?” one asked.

  “She looks like a woman.”

  “She sounds like a woman.”

  Forty thousand fans stood, staring at Amelia.

  “Oops,” Amelia said, remembering the no-women rule.

  “Time to get out of here,” Abby suggested.

  Doc nodded. “Let’s grab the hat, too. In case it’s really Abe’s.”

  “Good idea,” Abby agreed. “Well, congrats again,” she said to Kyniska.

  “Thank you, children,” Kyniska said. “Hurry!”

  Abby and Doc hopped onto the track and sprinted toward the prize table.

  “The wreath thieves!” shouted one of the judges. “Stop them!”

  Doc pulled the wreath from his pocket and tossed it. “We didn’t steal it!”

  The wreath hit the judge in the nose.

  Abby snatched the hat off the table.

  “Put that back!” cried the judge.

  “In!” Amelia shouted, holding open the door of her plane. “Get in!”

  Doc dove in, followed by Abby. The judges lunged toward the door—which slammed shut in their faces. The plane jolted forward.

  Judges in flowing purple robes ran after the plane, waving and yelling. Fans poured from the stands to join the chase. Drivers jumped back into their chariots and sped alongside the plane, smacking the wings with their whips.

  Amelia’s plane rattled and bounced as it gained speed. But it was running out of runway, fast approaching the end of the track—and the stone pillar. With only a few feet to spare, the plane lifted into the air.

  Thousands of furious faces watched the flying chariot climb, turn, and sail over the hills of Olympia.

  The only one smiling was Kyniska.

  “Nice flying!” Abby shouted.

  “Thank you, Abby,” said Amelia Earhart. “It wasn’t bad, if I say so myself.”

  Abby and Doc sat on the bench behind the cockpit. When their hearts stopped racing, they started to think about the tall black hat Abby held in her lap.

  “It really does look like Abraham Lincoln’s,” she said.

  “Look inside,” Doc said. “Remember how he keeps notes and stuff in his hat?”

  Abby turned the hat upside down. Folded pieces of paper were stuck in the lining.

  Doc took one out and read the note aloud:

  “The next time someone tells me my jacket is too short, I should say, ‘Well, it will be a lot longer before I get a new one.’”

  Doc looked up from the paper. “Is that supposed to be a joke?”

  “I think so,” Abby said. “A lot longer. Get it? A longer time before he gets a new coat?”

  “I’m not putting that back,” Doc said.

  He crumpled the paper and tossed it under the bench.

  “It’s Lincoln’s hat all right!” Abby said, loud enough for Amelia to hear.

  Amelia turned and said, “How is that possible?”

  “Who knows?” Abby asked.

  “We should return it,” Doc said.

  “Maybe we’ll suddenly appear there, in
Lincoln’s time,” Abby said. “I mean, we had the wreath, and we just appeared in ancient Greece, right?”

  “Yeah,” Doc said. “That actually makes sense.”

  Amelia Earhart shook her head. “None of this makes sense.”

  “Okay, we’re ready!” Doc shouted. “Take us to Mr. Lincoln!”

  Abby yelled into the hat. “Hello in there! Can you hear us?”

  Nothing happened.

  The plane flew over the rocky hills of Greece and soared toward the Mediterranean coast.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  “It’s not working,” Doc said.

  “Anytime now!” Abby told the hat.

  “We’re ready to go!”

  Amelia asked, “Who on earth are you talking to?”

  “We have no idea,” Doc said.

  “Wonderful,” Amelia muttered.

  Abby said, “Other history people, you know, Lincoln, Abigail Adams. They figured out ways to move around in time.”

  “You mean, I could go home anytime I want?” Amelia asked.

  “Maybe,” Abby said.

  Doc laughed. “Remember the desert island, with the pirates chasing us? And Abigail and John Adams jumped into that barrel?”

  Abby smiled. “They almost had us.”

  “Barrel?” Amelia said.

  “Yeah,” Doc said, “like a wooden thing, for holding water or—”

  “I know what a barrel is,” Amelia cut in. “It’s just … you’ve given me an idea …”

  She stared straight ahead, lost in thought.

  Then, turning to Doc and Abby, she said, “Let’s go find Mr. Lincoln.”

  “We should go back to your time,” Abby said. “If you can, I mean. So you can do your flight.”

  “Not yet,” Amelia said. “First we’re going to figure out exactly what’s going on. And, Abby, I haven’t forgotten about finding your glasses.”

  “Thanks,” Abby said.

  “What about my hat?” Doc asked. “How come no one cares about my hat?”

  “Here we go, to wherever Mr. Lincoln is,” Amelia said. “Hold on tight, children. This is called a barrel roll.”

  “A wha—?” Doc started to ask.

  The plane flipped over and flew upside down.

  Abby and Doc screamed as the plane rolled over and over—right side up, then upside down, right side up, then upside down—and disappeared.

  And reappeared in a cloudy sky. Doc and Abby were still gripping the bench.

  Abby hooted, “Best ride ever!”

  “It worked!” Doc shouted. “Or, did it? Is this Washington, DC?”

  Amelia looked to both sides and straight ahead. Nothing in sight but clouds.

  “I can’t tell,” she said. “But it’s not a good day for flying.”

  The plane bounced in the wind as it dropped through the clouds. A city came into view. Brick buildings and church steeples. Dirt streets laid out in neat square blocks. Wooden ships docked on a wide river. The lower they got, the less it looked like Washington. There was no Capitol building, no White House.

  Amelia picked out an open field just outside the city and brought the plane in for a bumpy landing. Doc and Abby hopped out and looked up at the dark rain clouds.

  “Storm’s coming,” Abby said.

  “At least we have a hat,” Doc said, setting the tall black hat on his head.

  A voice boomed,

  Abby and Doc spun around.

  A tall man in a black suit was walking toward them. He had a beard but no mustache.

  It was Abraham Lincoln.

  Abby clapped. “We found you!”

  “You did, indeed,” Lincoln said, smiling and shaking their hands.

  “But we’re not in Washington,” Doc said.

  “Philadelphia,” Lincoln said. “Fall of 1753.”

  “What are you doing here?” Abby asked.

  Lincoln reached into his jacket and pulled out something brown and furry. He put it on his head.

  It was a thick fur hat. A long tail hung from the back.

  “Who do I look like?” Lincoln asked.

  Abby and Doc were stumped.

  “Famous writer, scientist, diplomat, one of our country’s founders …” Lincoln said. “Picture me with long hair and a bit, um,” he patted his belly, “rounder.”

  Amelia Earhart stuck her head out of the plane. “Benjamin Franklin!”

  “We have a winner!” Lincoln called, tossing her the fur hat. “Nice to meet you, Ms. Earhart.”

  “Likewise,” she said. “Do you really believe this is Franklin’s?”

  Lincoln took his own hat from Doc and set it on his head.

  He said, “Let’s go find out.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  The sky was growing darker. Thunder rumbled.

  Abby, Doc, Amelia Earhart, and Abraham Lincoln walked through the streets of Philadelphia. Abby asked for directions to Franklin’s home. It was a three-story brick house, with a tall metal pole sticking up from the roof. Doc knocked on the front door.

  The door opened. Benjamin Franklin stood in the doorway. He wore a vest and a puffy white shirt, and he had brown hair down to his shoulders.

  For just an instant, his face showed a hint of alarm.

  But then he smiled and said, “Come inside, friends, please.”

  They all stepped inside. Abe Lincoln and Amelia Earhart introduced themselves.

  “Yes, of course,” Ben said, shaking their hands. “We’ve been in many history books together. How nice to finally meet. And you two—you must be Doc and Abby. The ones who broke history!”

  “It was his fault, too,” Doc said, pointing to Lincoln.

  Franklin laughed. “I admire curious children. I myself have a—what are you staring at, child?”

  “It’s just …” Abby began. “You’re not old. In pictures, you’re always old.”

  “Yes, and bald into the bargain!” Ben howled. “When children think of Benjamin Franklin, what do they think of? Electricity and lightning? The kite experiment? Well, I’ll have you know I conducted that experiment last year, when I was a man of but six and forty! With nice, wavy hair! Why can’t your books show that?”

  “Um …” Doc said.

  “Well, no matter,” Ben said, smiling again. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?”

  Abe Lincoln held out the fur hat. “Might this belong to you, Franklin?”

  Franklin took the hat. Again, worry flashed across his face.

  Everyone noticed.

  “Yes, thank you,” Ben said. “Things have been getting rather twisted up lately, haven’t they?”

  “Indeed,” Abe said. “This morning, when I reached for my hat, it was gone! And your hat was on the shelf in its place. Can you explain what it was doing in the White House? In 1861?”

  Ben shook his head. “I truly cannot.”

  “But you seem to know something,” Doc said.

  “Do I?” Ben laughed nervously. “Well … perhaps a little something.”

  “Out with it, Franklin,” Abe insisted.

  “Please,” Amelia urged. “I’m in a hurry to cross the Atlantic.”

  “It’s quite amusing, actually,” Ben began. “You see, after my famous kite experiment—you know about that, right? I wanted to show that electricity forms in storm clouds and that this is what causes lightning. So as a storm approached, my son William and I flew a kite.”

  “The kite was not hit by lightning,” Ben continued. “That would have killed us. But an electrical charge did travel down the string to a metal key, thus proving my theory, and—”

  “Get to the point,” Amelia pleaded.

  “Of course,” Ben said. “I saw what Lincoln and Abigail Adams did, traveling through time, becoming wrestlers, pirates, such adventures! That gave me an idea for a new experiment. Could one use electricity to, well, zap history?”

  “Zap?” Abby asked. “Is that the scientific word?”

  “Perhaps not,” Ben said. “But you s
ee, I recently put a lightning rod on my roof—my own invention, by the way. The pole attracts lightning, and wires carry the charge harmlessly into the ground. The electricity can also be used for experiments. I attached wires to two books—one about cowboys and one about astronauts. I waited for the next storm and, well, the lightning did the rest!”

  “So that’s how Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin wound up landing in Texas instead of on the moon?” Doc asked.

  Ben beamed with pride. “I had no idea the results would be so dramatic!”

  “Wait,” Abby said. “How’d you get books about things that haven’t happened yet?”

  Ben opened his mouth to answer, but Amelia cut in: “And that’s how I wound up at the ancient Olympics!”

  “No, Ms. Earhart, a thousand times, no,” Ben said. “I had nothing to do with that. I saw how much trouble I had caused for the astronauts and decided never to repeat the experiment.”

  Everyone stared at Ben Franklin.

  “You must believe me,” he insisted.

  They didn’t.

  “Come see for yourself,” Ben said. “My study is right above us.”

  Ben Franklin led the way up a creaking staircase. Rain began pounding on the roof.

  He opened the door of his study. The large room was lit by the flickering flames of lanterns. The shelves were packed with books. A long table was lined with glass tubes and jars of colorful liquids. Jumbles of wires dangled from a hole in the ceiling and snaked from one piece of lab equipment to another. Thunder cracked in the sky.

  A girl stood at the table.

  She was wearing Abby’s glasses.

  And Doc’s hat.

  “Hi, Abby,” Sally said. “Hi, Doc.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  “We, uh …” Abby stammered. “We thought you went home.”

  “I am home!” Sally said.

  “Hold on …” Abby said.

  Doc asked, “What do you mean, you’re home?”

  Ben Franklin stepped into the lab. “I see you’ve met my favorite lab partner. My daughter, Sarah. We call her Sally.”

  “You’re Sally Franklin?” Doc asked.