Rush Revere and the Brave Pilgrims: Time-Travel Adventures with Exceptional Americans (2 page)

Not a bad idea, I thought. Right before the sailor grabbed me, I dove headfirst through his legs. For a split second, I thought I was through and beyond his grasp. The sailor’s beefy hand grabbed my leg, then my coat, then hoisted me up by my collar.

“I hope you can swim!” yelled Fish Breath.

From over his shoulder I finally spotted what I had been searching for.

“And I hope you can fly!” Liberty replied to him.

Oh, yes, Liberty can talk. I told you he wasn’t an ordinary horse. Before the man could even turn around to see who had spoken, Liberty kicked his hind legs and sent the sailor sailing high into the air and then he fell into a web of nets.

“Perfect shot!” Liberty said.

“You appeared in the nick of time,” I said, starting to feel sick again.

“Leaping to the
Mayflower
in the middle of a storm wasn’t my idea!” Liberty said, speaking very fast. “Yes, I can leap to different times in American history, but I’m not a weatherman. And horses don’t like boats. There’s an awful lot of water surrounding us and this constant rocking back and forth, back and forth—it’s making me hungry.” Liberty turned his neck from side to side as if searching for the nearest feedbag. “Do you know where we can get some food around here?”

I slipped onto Liberty’s saddle and said, “Please, let’s not talk about food. Right now I need you to open the time portal.”

“Back to the future?” Liberty grinned.

“Yes! Back to modern-day America, please. Just try not to leap us into a tornado!”

Liberty started galloping and yelled,
“Rush, rush, rushing from history!”

A swirling circle of gold and purple appeared on the deck of the
Mayflower.
As it grew bigger, Liberty bolted for the center and jumped through.

We were back in modern-day America.

T
he school bell
rang and a few more students rushed into the classroom followed by Principal Sherman. The principal of Manchester Middle School was not a small man. If the door frame were any smaller, the principal would have to duck his head and twist his way into the classroom. I stood outside in the hallway as the door closed but watched and heard what was happening through the door’s small window.

“Attention, everyone, please take your seats,” said the principal with authority. He stood at the front of the classroom, hands at his sides, while his eyes scanned the desks and chairs. “I have an important announcement.”

The room went silent. It was apparent that Principal Sherman did not tolerate disrespect. “I have some unfortunate news,” he said. “Your teacher, Ms. Borrington, needed some extra time away from the academy to help care for a sick family member. In the meantime, I feel very fortunate
to have found such a qualified replacement. You know that at Manchester Middle School we have the smartest and most educated teachers. It is my pleasure to introduce you to your substitute, Mr. Revere.”

As if on cue, I opened the door to the classroom and walked in. As Principal Sherman prattled on about the importance of giving me their whole attention, I walked over to the chalkboard and grabbed a piece of chalk. In the upper left corner I wrote my name.

R-U-S-H R-E-V-E-R-E.

Principal Sherman then turned to me and said, “Mr. Revere, the students of Manchester’s honors history class are now in your charge. I kno-o-o-o-ow,” he said, turning to the class and then back to me, “they will give you their utmost respect.” While he walked past me on his way to the door he lowered his head and whispered, “If the boy in the back row with the red baseball cap gives you any trouble, please send him to my office.” Without another word, he opened the door and disappeared.

As I turned to the students, I noticed a hand in the air from a girl with blond hair and two perfectly placed pink bows. Before I had a chance to even call on her she asked, “Your first name is ‘Rush’? That’s weird. And why are you dressed like . . . that?!” she said.

I could tell that this student was all business. If there were a pecking order in this class, she would probably be at the top of the food chain. I looked at my seating chart and replied, “Thank you, Elizabeth. Do you go by Liz?”

She rolled her eyes and nearly grunted, “No, unlike some people, I have a real name. It’s Elizabeth.”

“It’s a lovely name, if you like four syllables” I said, winking.
“If you must know, my real name is Rusty. But when I was your age, my favorite class was history. In fact, I found myself rushing to history class every day I had it. I would rush from my home, rush down the street, rush through the school until I was sitting at my desk. Eventually, my teacher started calling me ‘Rush’ and it stuck.”

Two girls leaned over and whispered to each other. One pointed at my pants and giggled. Ah, yes, my clothing! Certainly, my colonial shirt with a waistcoat and an outer coat over it, as well as knickers, stockings, and a three-cornered hat, was enough to make me look like I was ready to go trick-or-treating.

“You’re probably wondering about my clothing,” I said. “Can anyone guess who I’m dressed as?”

A couple of students raised their hands and I pointed to each one.

“George Washington?” said the first.

“Good guess, but no. However, I am dressed as someone who fought in the same revolutionary war as George Washington and they assuredly knew each other.”

“Are you Thomas Jefferson?” asked another student.

“No, however, another good guess. Mr. Jefferson lived during the same time, but I don’t think he could ride on a horse fast enough as if he was flying from city to city.”

Then the boy with the red baseball cap raised his hand. He was smirking at me, the kind of look you give with the intent of hitting the bull’s-eye on a dunking machine. Reluctantly, I pointed to him.

“Then you must be Peter Pan,” he said.

The students burst out laughing, and now I understood the warning from Principal Sherman.

I quickly glanced at the seating chart and then replied, “Mr. Thomas White, is it?”

“I go by Tommy,” he said. “And I think Tinker Bell just flew out the window so you might want to go catch her.”

Again, the class laughed. I smiled politely and waited until the room was quiet again. Tommy appeared to be gathering up his history book and backpack.

“Are you planning to go somewhere, Tommy?” I asked.

“Aren’t you sending me to the principal’s office?” he asked matter-of-factly.

This time I laughed. I could see that the entire class looked confused. Apparently, Mrs. Borrington did not tolerate the silly antics from a class clown. “Absolutely not! If I did, you would miss the most exciting history lesson of your life!”

“Um, for the record, history is not exciting,” Tommy said. “Seriously, I have to stay?”

“Well, I hope you choose to stay,” I said. “I love your imagination, Tommy. That’s exactly the kind of mind I want all of you to have as we discover history together, discover the stories of the exceptional people who made us who we are today. I dress like this to help your imaginations. For as long as I can remember, my boyhood idol has been the famous American patriot Paul Revere. He was a silversmith. He took part in the Boston Tea Party. He developed a system of lanterns to warn the minutemen of a British invasion. And, of course, the event that he’s most famous for is his midnight ride in April of 1775.”

Tommy eased back into his chair. I could tell he wasn’t convinced that history was exciting, yet. But I could see a hint of curiosity on his face.

“Imagine that it’s midnight,” I said. “It’s very dark outside. You
hear the hoot of an owl and, perhaps, see bats fly through the air under a full moon. You’re on a secret mission to ride as fast as you can to warn the colonists that the British are coming! Raise your hand if you’re up for the challenge!”

Several of the students raised their hands, mostly boys, including Tommy. However, I saw one girl in the back of the class who raised her hand, too, but then quickly dropped it. Hmm, I had noticed this girl earlier. She didn’t laugh when the rest of the class laughed. She looked very comfortable sitting in the very last row in the corner. Her dark hair had a blue feather clipped in it. She wore jeans with a hole in one knee, but I could tell it wasn’t a fashion statement. I looked at the seating chart and noticed the girl’s name, Freedom. What an unusual name. Personally, I couldn’t help but be a fan!

“Ah, I see we have several brave souls who are ready to ride like Paul Revere. However, in order for you to ride, you’re going to need a horse.” I paused. Nothing happened. This time, a little louder, I repeated every word slowly: “I said, we’re going to need a horse!” I glanced at the door. I paused, again. Still nothing happened.

The students looked at me very confused.

I sighed. “We’re supposed to have a special guest join us, but it appears he’s running late. Excuse me while I go and see if he’s lost.” I walked toward the door, opened it, and glanced down the hallway. Nothing. I walked down the hall toward the front doors of the school and passed by the door to the teacher’s bathroom. I paused, considering my options. I heard the toilet flush and then I heard what sounded like the clomping of horse hooves. I rolled my eyes and pushed the door open. Sure enough, there stood my horse, Liberty, admiring himself in the mirror.

“Liberty!” I shouted.

Startled, Liberty bumped into one of the bathroom stalls and knocked the door halfway off its hinges.

“You missed your cue and your entrance. I’m trying to teach a history lesson and you’re an important part of that,” I said.

“You really shouldn’t sneak up on large mammals like that,” Liberty replied. “See the damage we can cause. Not my fault. I’m the victim here. And I’m pretty sure you’re a few minutes early. Besides, it’s not like I wear a wristwatch or carry a smartphone,” Liberty replied.

“My apologies. It would be my pleasure if you would care to join me,” I said sarcastically as I held open the bathroom door for him.

“That’s more like it,” he said as he walked past me without looking in my direction.

Liberty stuck his head out the door and looked both ways. When he didn’t see anyone, we walked toward my classroom.

“Now, remember what we talked about. We don’t want to freak out the students the first day by showing them a talking horse,” I said.

“Yes, yes, of course. My lips are sealed,” said Liberty as he pantomimed zipping his lips with his hoof.

“Good. Now, I’m going back in. Listen for your cue.”

I returned to the class and was glad to see that no one had left.

“I apologize for the delay. As I was saying, it was a midnight ride from Charlestown to Lexington when Paul Revere shouted, ‘The British are coming, the British are coming!’ This would not be complete or even possible without a noble and swift horse! Please welcome our special guest, Liberty!”

Liberty pushed the door open and strutted into the classroom.
The students in the front row leaned back, utterly shocked at what they were seeing.

“No way!” said Tommy. “You actually brought a horse into school? This is so cool!”

Most of the class was standing by now, watching Liberty prance around the front of the room. From the way Liberty was soaking up the attention, you’d think he was standing in the winner’s circle at the Kentucky Derby.

Several students still looked flabbergasted. They watched Liberty as if he were a mythical unicorn and crowded closer to him. The girl named Freedom, however, stood five steps back from the rest of the class. Was she afraid? No, not afraid. Unsure? Yes, that’s it. She was looking at the other students, unsure of whether she was welcome to join them in their new discovery.

“Don’t get too close to us, Freedom,” said Elizabeth, who stood at least two inches taller than the other girls in the class. “The horse might smell you and run away.”

Freedom stepped back to her desk and sat down.

“Class, I assure you that Liberty is very friendly. There’s no need to be alarmed. He doesn’t bite and fortunately, he’s potty-trained,” I said, still irritated that Liberty was late.

Liberty snorted at my last comment, clearly insulted, and flicked his tail into my face. His horse hair tickled my nose and before I could stop it, I sneezed!

It happened so fast that Liberty instinctively said, “Bless you.”

I froze, wondering if anyone had heard that. Liberty froze, clearly worried if I had heard that. The students froze, clearly trying to determine if they had heard that. Finally, one of the students broke the silence and slowly said, “Did your horse just say ‘Bless you’?”

“My horse? T-t-talk?” I stammered, looking back and forth between the students and Liberty. “Uh, well, yes. I’ve taught him a couple of words, sort of like a talking parrot. Words like ‘bless you.’ I mean, what else do you say when someone else sneezes?” I said, trying to laugh it off.

Then, without warning, I sneezed again, “Achoo!”

This time Liberty said, “Gesundheit!”

Again, the students were wide-eyed and speechless. This was not going as planned. The
horse,
as they say, was out of the bag. So I decided to confess, sort of. I sighed, again. “The truth is Liberty is an exceptional learner. He’s very bright and, of course, he loves American history. So as long as you can keep this a secret I can keep bringing Liberty to our class. Agreed?” I said, hoping it was enough.

You would have thought I had just asked if each student wanted a million dollars! A flurry of responses came rushing back at me, “Yes! Okay! I’ll keep it secret! I’ll do it. I’m in!”

“Well, then, it appears we’re unanimous,” I replied. “Wonderful.” I turned to Liberty. “Is there anything you’d like to say?”

Liberty let out a big, horsey “Neighhhhhhhhhhhhhh.”

The students looked at each other and then back at me. Tommy was the first to speak and said, “Not very impressive for a talking horse.”

I turned to Liberty and mumbled, “Seriously, that’s the best you can do?” Then I turned back to the class and laughed. “Liberty has quite the sense of humor,” I said. Clearing my throat, I looked at Liberty and spread my arm toward the class and said, “Liberty, the jig is up. Your cover has been blown. Go ahead and tell the class whatever you’d like.”