by Dan Gutman
“So in the Gettysburg Address, Lincoln was talking about 1776, when we declared our independence from England,” said Isabel.
“So in the Gettysburg Address, he was sort of hitting the Reset button on America, right?” asked Luke.
“Exactly!” said Miss Z. “It was almost like we became born again as a nation. That’s why those ten sentences are so important.”
“Why do you need four of us?” he asked next. “Obviously, only one of us is going to take the picture.”
“I want to take it!” David shouted.
“I want to take it!” Isabel shouted.
“I want to take it!” Julia shouted.
“I need all of you to go,” Miss Z told them, “and I need you to work as a team. The Civil War was still going on in 1863, remember. This could be dangerous. You may encounter trouble along the way. You’ll need to work together and watch each other’s backs. I know the four of you can. That’s why I chose you. You’re the Flashback Four.”
David, Luke, Julia, and Isabel nodded. In the last hour they had gone from being four disinterested seventh graders to being a team with a mission to accomplish.
“We’ll be witnessing history,” Isabel said quietly. “And making it, too.”
“That’s right,” Miss Z agreed, rolling herself over to look at the lone empty space on the wall once again. “History is like a big jigsaw puzzle, with some of the pieces missing. Every so often, we’re lucky enough to stumble upon one of those pieces and figure out what happened in that time period. The Board will just make it a little easier to find those pieces.”
David got up from his chair and went over to the Board.
“Let’s do this thing,” he said.
CHAPTER 10
GO BOIL YOUR SHIRT, BY JINGO!
ONE BY ONE, LUKE, ISABEL, AND JULIA GOT UP and joined David at the Board.
“Let’s go,” David said, clapping his hands together. “Zap us back to the good old days, Miss Z. We’ll take that picture for you. No worries.”
Miss Z sighed and chuckled to herself.
“Not so fast,” she told the group. “First you kids need to do some preparation.”
“I’m prepared,” Luke said. “I’m ready to go right now.”
“You’re prepared?” asked Miss Z. “How do you think the people of Gettysburg are going to react in 1863 when you suddenly show up on the street wearing a Boston Red Sox T-shirt?”
“They’ll think I’m awesome!” Luke said, slapping a high five with David. “Because the Sox are awesome.”
“Please avoid using the word awesome unless you’re referring to Niagara Falls, or the Grand Canyon, or something that’s truly awesome,” Miss Z told Luke. “I’ve got news for you. The Red Sox don’t exist in 1863. And for that matter, neither do T-shirts.”
“What difference does it make?” David asked. “Aren’t we just going to show up, take the picture of Lincoln giving the speech, and blow out of there? They’ll barely even notice us.”
“If everything goes perfectly, yes,” Miss Z explained. “But things may not go perfectly. This may not be easy. You may encounter obstacles. I didn’t invest millions of dollars into this technology to get the simple stuff wrong.”
The kids sat back down in their chairs. Miss Z instructed them to take out their cell phones and text their parents that they would be a little late for dinner.
“First we need to talk about language,” she said. “The kind of English spoken in 1863 is not the same as the English we speak today.”
“How was it different?” Isabel asked.
“Every era has its own words and expressions,” Miss Z told her. “For instance, instead of saying ‘thank you,’ a person in 1863 was more likely to say ‘much obliged.’ Instead of saying they ‘want’ something, they might say they have a ‘hankering’ for it. Do you see what I mean?”
“Like, ‘Ah gotta mosey on down the road a piece,’” Luke said in an exaggerated accent. “Or, ‘Ah gotta skedaddle before mah corn bread burns.’”
“Something like that,” said Miss Z. “You’d better light outta here lickety split, old chum, and I don’t wanna hear none of your bellyaching and balderdash.”
“So you’re saying that we’re supposed to talk funny?” David asked.
“To the people you’re going to meet, the four of you talk funny right now,” Miss Z told him. “Believe me, if somebody from 1863 came to our time and listened to any of us talk, they would think it was hilarious.”
Miss Z rolled over to her desk and took out some sheets of paper from a drawer. She handed one to each of the kids. The title at the top of each page was CIVIL WAR SLANG, and a list of vocabulary words was printed underneath.
“Memorize these words and expressions,” she instructed. “It’s important.”
The kids studied the sheet, and it wasn’t long before they were poking fun and cracking wise.
“Hey, if you want to tell somebody to get out of here,” said Julia, “you’re supposed to say, ‘Go boil your shirt!’”
Everybody laughed.
“If you’re angry, you’re supposed to say, ‘I’m fit to be tied!’” said Isabel. “Or ‘You get my dander up.’”
“What’s dander?” asked David. “Isn’t that the stuff that cats have in their fur?”
“It doesn’t matter what it is,” Miss Z told him. “Just say it. And for goodness’ sake, don’t use any curse words in 1863! If you need to curse, say ‘by jingo’ or ‘land sakes.’”
“Hey, you know what the quickstep is?” asked Luke. “That’s when you have diarrhea!”
Everybody laughed again.
“If that don’t beat all!” said Luke.
“See? You’re getting the hang of it,” Miss Z told them. “In 1863, people don’t think, they reckon. They’re not tired, they’re tuckered out. They don’t go over there, they go over yonder. They don’t pat their stomach, they slap their pappy.”
“Slap their pappy?” All four cackled loudly.
“Oh, keep your britches on,” Miss Z told them. “If you kids go in there talking like it’s the twenty-first century or peacocking about in a Red Sox shirt, you’re going to stand out like a sore thumb. People won’t know what to think. They might tar and feather you, or run you out of town on a rail.”
“Do we have to memorize this whole sheet?” asked Julia.
“Yes,” said Miss Z. “Or, as they would say in the 1860s, the whole kit and caboodle. Does anybody have any other questions?”
“This is like school,” David complained.
“That’s not a question,” Miss Z replied. “And yes, it is a little bit like school. It’s called learning. I promised you the adventure of a lifetime. I never said it was going to be an easy adventure. Now let’s talk about food.”
“Food?” asked David. “Why do we have to worry about food? It’s not like we’re staying overnight.”
“What if something goes wrong?” Miss Z said. “You might have to wait hours for Lincoln to deliver his speech. You’re going to get hungry.”
“So we’ll go to McDonald’s,” Julia said, throwing up her hands. “What’s the big deal?”
Luke rolled his eyes and used all his powers of restraint not to tell Julia that she was an idiot.
“They didn’t have McDonald’s in 1863,” Miss Z explained patiently. “There was no fast food. No Doritos. No candy bars. And they didn’t have Whole Foods or Trader Joe’s either. There were no supermarkets at all.”
“How did they survive?” Julia asked.
“Most people lived on farms or in rural areas,” said Miss Z. “So they grew their own food. Or they hunted, traded, foraged, or fished. A lot of the foods we eat today simply didn’t exist back in the 1860s.”
“So what did they eat?” asked Isabel.
“All kinds of things,” replied Miss Z. “Frizzled beef. Baked goose. Succotash. Plum pudding . . .”
“Ugh, gross,” Julia groaned.
“. . . Oyster pie. Calves�
�� feet. Oxtail soup. Stewed kidney. Boiled turtle . . .”
“No wonder people died in their thirties back then,” said David.
“Actually, I think they ate much healthier back then,” said Miss Z as she punched the button on her intercom. “Mrs. Vader, it’s time for our snack.”
A few seconds later, the office door opened and Mrs. Vader came in holding another platter full of some sort of unidentifiable food.
“Here, taste this,” Miss Z told the kids.
“What is it?” asked Luke hesitantly.
“Just taste it.”
“I’m not tasting it until you tell me what it is,” Luke said.
“If I tell you what it is, you won’t taste it,” Miss Z replied.
Nobody was reaching for the platter. The girls looked disgusted.
“Okay, I’ll taste it,” David finally volunteered.
“You are a brave young man, David,” said Mrs. Vader as she handed him a small piece of bread with some kind of meat on top of it. He put it in his mouth. Luke picked up a piece and did the same.
“It tastes like chicken,” Luke announced.
“Mmm, not bad,” said David. “What is it?”
“It’s mutton,” said Mrs. Vader.
David gagged, and spit into a napkin.
“Gross!” he said. “I’m not eating mutton. What’s mutton, anyway?”
“Mutton is sheep,” Luke told him, as he finished his piece.
“Ewww, gross!” exclaimed both of the girls.
“I’m not eating a sheep!” said David.
“Why not?” asked Miss Z. “You eat cow. You eat chicken. Why not eat sheep?”
“Sheep are cute,” said Julia.
“Pigs are cute,” Mrs. Vader said. “Do you eat ham, or bacon?”
“Y’know, this stuff isn’t bad,” Luke said, taking another piece from the platter. “They should sell a McMutton sandwich at McDonald’s.”
“You are totally gross,” said Julia.
“I’m a vegetarian anyway,” Isabel said. “I won’t eat anything that has a face.”
“What about pumpkin?” asked David. “Pumpkins have faces.”
“Did they have any gluten-free food in the 1860s?” asked Isabel. “I’m thinking of cutting out gluten.”
“Are you kidding me?” asked Miss Z. “No, they didn’t have gluten-free food. And there was no Coke or Pepsi. No protein bars. No Happy Meals. They didn’t have any packaged, processed junk. They ate real food. And if you ask for chicken fingers, don’t be surprised if they actually cut the fingers off chickens and serve them to you.”
“Okay, now you are totally grossing me out,” said Julia.
“Chickens have fingers?” asked David.
“Just be prepared for unusual foods, okay?” said Miss Z. “Now we’re running out of time. We need to talk about your clothing. Or, as they would say back in 1863, your duds.”
“Red Sox! Red Sox!” chanted Luke as he stood up to show off his T-shirt again.
“You want to blend in with the crowd, Luke,” Miss Z explained. “You want to look like everyone else. Mrs. Vader?”
Mrs. Vader took the platter of mutton away, and then came back into the office rolling a long rack of antique clothing.
“Oh, fun!” said Julia. “We get to play dress up!”
The rack was actually filled with men’s clothes—or, more specifically, boys’ clothes—from the 1860s. Julia and Isabel jumped up excitedly and began going through the trousers, jackets, and shirts. The boys were less than enthusiastic.
“You gotta be joking,” Luke said. “Do we really have to wear that stuff?”
“If you want to fit in, yes,” said Miss Z.
After some mixing and matching, discussing and debating, the girls chose outfits that would look good on Luke and David. For Luke, that meant wide-legged dark woolen knickers, a white shirt with a ruffled collar, a paisley vest, and a frock coat trimmed with braid and buttons.
For David, it was a navy blue waistcoat with gold buttons over a checkered vest; a white button-down, cuffed shirt; and a black tie. Isabel picked out light blue trousers and a gold-buckled belt for David. Julia added a jaunty military-style cap to top things off.
“Go ahead, boys,” Miss Z told them. “Try ’em on.”
Luke and David groaned as they followed Mrs. Vader out of the office. She opened the men’s bathroom for them. A few minutes later they emerged in costume. Luke looked particularly uncomfortable and a bit sheepish.
“Oh my,” Julia said flirtatiously. “Ah must say, you boys look mighty handsome in those new duds.”
“Land sakes! Ah think Ah may just faint dead away,” said Isabel.
Both girls were giggling, making exaggerated curtsies, and fanning themselves with imaginary fans.
“I look like a big doofus,” Luke said.
“No you don’t,” David told him. “In 1863, this is what the cool guys wore. I don’t know about you, but I’m looking good.”
“Hey, you’re lucky,” Miss Z said. “Some young men wore kilts in those days.”
“That’s just not gonna happen,” said Luke.
Mrs. Vader rolled the rack of boys’ clothes out of the office and came back in pushing an even longer rack full of clothes for girls. Isabel and Julia swooned at the sight of them.
“They’re so beautiful,” Isabel said. “Where did you get all this stuff?”
“From a costume shop,” Miss Z replied as she pulled a poplin dinner dress with linen collar and cuffs from the rack. “The sewing machine became widely used in 1846. That made it much easier and faster for dressmakers to create these wonderful designs.”
Julia picked out a blue petticoat trimmed with crimped frills and lace and held it up in front of her. Isabel chose a taffeta walking dress edged with quilling of satin ribbon. Almost instantly, the girls abandoned those choices in favor of a velvet cloak lined with silk and a simple frock trimmed with ostrich feathers. Then there were decisions to be made regarding velvet ribbons, ornamental roses, medallions, sashes, and bows.
“I can’t decide if I should go with the embroidered French cambric or the pleated trim of braid and wide-scalloped lace,” said Julia. “Can I try them both on?”
“Of course!” said Miss Z.
The boys groaned again.
When the girls left the room to try on the clothes, David and Luke discussed the Red Sox’s chances in the next season. After what seemed to be an eternity—but was just a few minutes—the girls returned in their new finery. Both of them had chosen dresses that puffed out dramatically as they reached the floor, like two enormous church bells. Julia was now wearing a straw bonnet with a lace demi-veil. Isabel had accessorized her outfit with a fan, white gloves, and a parasol. The girls spun around dramatically, so the boys could get the full effect.
“Lovely! Gorgeous!” said Miss Z and Mrs. Vader, clapping their hands. David and Luke did their best to not look impressed.
“Well, how do you like our outfits, fellas?” asked Julia.
“It looks like you could hide a small army under there,” David commented.
“It’s not very practical,” said Luke. “What if you have to run wearing that thing?”
“A lady does not run,” Julia informed him haughtily. “The boys will run to me.”
“I just love these shoes,” said Isabel. “Can I keep them after we get back?”
“Sorry,” said Miss Z. “I have to return them to the costume shop.”
“Can we get out of here now?” Luke finally asked. “By the time we get to 1863, the war will be over.”
“The war won’t end for another two years,” Miss Z informed them. “But it’s late now. I’ve given you a lot to learn and think about. For now, I want you four to get out of those duds, go home, and get a good night’s sleep. Tomorrow, after school, you leave for 1863.”
CHAPTER 11
GOING TO GETTYSBURG
AS SOON AS SCHOOL LET OUT THE NEXT DAY, David, Julia, Isabel, and Luke r
ushed to the John Hancock Tower. They met as a group in the lobby and took the elevator up to the office of Pasture Company. Mrs. Vader buzzed them in and ushered them into the office.
“Well, the Flashback Four are here!” Miss Z said when she saw them. “I’m glad you all decided to come back. I was afraid that one or two of you might chicken out on me.”
“No way,” David said. “I am pumped.”
“How about the rest of you?” asked Miss Z. “Pumped?”
“Pumped!” said Luke. “Let’s go!”
“Majorly pumped,” said Isabel.
“Minorly pumped,” said Julia. “I was wondering, why did you choose kids to do this job? Why didn’t you hire some grown-ups to do it?”
“Kids have certain advantages over grown-ups,” Miss Z explained. “You’re smaller and faster, for one thing, so if you get into trouble, you can escape more easily. You think on your feet better than adults. You’re not so set in your ways, so if you have to switch gears in the middle of something, you can handle it. But most of all, I chose you because you’re not legal adults. When adults mess up, they get in trouble. They can be punished. They can be put in jail.”
“We can get away with doing crazy stuff,” Luke said. “Because we’re too dumb to know better.”
“I wouldn’t put it in those words,” said Miss Z. “But essentially, yes.”
“It sounds like you’re expecting us to have problems,” Isabel said.
“I wouldn’t have gotten to where I am today if I didn’t expect the unexpected,” said Miss Z. “You should, too. That reminds me, before you change into your costumes, there are a few last-minute things we need to go over. What I’m about to tell you is very important, so listen carefully. When you get to Gettysburg, you’ll be in 1863. It’s going to seem almost like a different world. There will be no cell phones, no computers—”