Who Broke Lincoln's Thumb? by Ron Roy

1
Did You Lose Something,
President Lincoln?
    â€œSo do I have to call you Miss Corcoran now?” Marshall Li asked his friend KC Corcoran. KC’s mom had married President Zachary Thornton, and KC was now living in the White House.
    KC and Marshall were walking toward the Lincoln Memorial.
    â€œNo, you can still call me KC,” she said. “But don’t forget to bow every time you see me.”
    Marshall laughed. Then something caught his eye. He squatted down in front of a rosebush. “Wow, look at that!” he cried. A fat black and yellow spider wasdangling from its web in the bush.
    â€œNo thanks!” KC said. “You look at it for me!”
    â€œBut he’s so beautiful,” Marshall said, inching closer to the spider. He loved most animals, but especially the kinds with six or eight legs. Marshall dreamed of getting a job in the insect room at the Museum of Natural History.
    KC pulled him back. “Come on, Marsh, before it decides to rain again.”
    The morning had started out cloudy, and then the sky had turned black. Wind had howled through Washington, D.C., and large raindrops had pelted down.
    By ten o’clock, the rain had stopped. The sun broke through the clouds as KC and Marshall crossed the lawn near the Reflecting Pool. Gusts of windblew leaves all around their feet.
    â€œI don’t understand why you need to take pictures of Abraham Lincoln’s statue,” Marshall said. They had reached the wide lawn in front of the Memorial.
    â€œI told you on the phone this morning,” KC said. “But you were feeding Spike and you weren’t paying attention.”
    Spike was Marshall’s pet tarantula, who slept inside a baseball cap in Marshall’s room.
    â€œSo tell me again,” Marshall said, grinning. “I promise to listen!”
    â€œMr. Alubicki told us to do a report on a famous person, right?” KC asked.
    â€œRight,” Marshall said. “I’m doing mine on Spider-Man.”
    KC looked at him in amazement. “Marshall, Spider-Man is a comic-bookcharacter, not a real person,” she said.
    Marshall grinned. “Mr. A didn’t say the person had to be real. Spider-Man is definitely famous!”
    â€œWell, mine will be about Daniel Chester French,” KC said.
    â€œWho’s he?” Marshall asked as they walked toward the Lincoln Memorial.
    â€œA famous sculptor! He sculpted Abraham Lincoln’s statue,” KC said. “It took him four years!” She reached into her backpack and pulled out her new digital camera, a gift from the president.
    â€œHow do you know all this stuff?” Marshall asked.
    KC planned to become a TV anchor-woman someday. Her hobby was memorizing a lot of facts.
    â€œI read a lot about him in the newspaper,”KC said. “The president has declared today Daniel Chester French Day. There was a big article about the ceremony at five o’clock tonight.”
    â€œWill there be cake and ice cream?” asked Marshall.
    â€œProbably,” KC said, nodding toward the Lincoln Memorial. “Look, isn’t that prettier than some hairy old spider?”
    Now that the storm had passed, people were on the lawn in front of the Lincoln Memorial enjoying the day. A couple of little kids were trying to fly a kite, but the wind kept crashing it to the ground. Two young men were tossing a Frisbee back and forth.
    KC and Marshall climbed the wide steps and walked between the columns in front of the Lincoln statue. Theystared up at Lincoln’s calm face, high above them. Daniel Chester French had sculpted him sitting in a big chair, which stood on top of a ten-foot platform.
    An aluminum ladder leaned against the platform. A black ladder lay on the floor next to two buckets of cleaning supplies.
    â€œI read that the statue is nineteen feet high from Lincoln’s feet to the top of his head,” KC told Marshall. “And if Lincoln could stand up,