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CHAPTER SEVEN
Mr. Peabody frowned as he watched his son toss and turn in the bed.
Oh Sherman, he thought. He felt as if this was all his fault. Of course it wasn't, but that was how he felt.
He reached out and placed his hand on the boy's forehead, hoping that it would somehow help his son-even though he knew that Sherman would not be able to know that he was doing it.
Mr. Peabody opened his mouth to speak, hoping to comfort his boy, but thought better of it. Instead he reached out and stroked Sherman's shoulder. Suppressing a sigh, he thought of all the things he used to do whenever Sherman needed comforting. Perhaps he'd hold him in his arms, or get him a bottle of milk. Sometimes he read him a book. Chicken noodle soup, tomato soup, plain toast, very little water-and a popsicle or two.
Once, when Sherman was very sick, he had insisted on Peabody giving him a makeshift puppet show. Peabody had been told to play all of the barnyard animals, except for the dog, which Sherman had insisted on doing himself.
Then there was that time when Peabody had been sick. Little Sherman hadn't known what to do then.
"Mr. Peba?" he had asked, "Don't you wanna pway?"
"Sherman," Mr. Peabody had said, "I am not feeling well today, so I cannot pway-I mean play-with you right now."
"Why not?" Sherman had asked.
Mr. Peabody had finally decided to put some fire in the fireplace, and had curled up in front of it to fall asleep. Sherman decided to join him, and had curled up against Mr. Peabody. It had been pretty comfortable for both of them.
Mr. Peabody pulled himself out of his memories, and once more kept watch over his son.
But even this would soon pass.
And until it did, Peabody promised himself that he would help out Sherman as best he could.
"What is the WABAC Return?" Sherman asked himself, closing his notebook.
He picked up the WABAC manual and turned to the same page where he first saw the corresponding word.
"In the event that there is a problem with the temporal displacement of the WABAC," he read, "The WABAC Return will the-or-et-ically," here Sherman phonetically pronounced this long word, "bring the WABAC back to..."
Sherman smiled as he silently read the last words.
"This is perfect!" He said, "This will bring him back from wherever-he-is!"
He stood up and gave a small closet dance before sitting back down, cross-legged, to finish reading that section of the book.
Suddenly his smile fell.
"Wait," he said, "Where is it?" He turned back to the book.
"This device," he read, "Can easily be made from household objects. However, I have not yet built a prototype-" Sherman turned the page.
"It doesn't say how to build the WABAC Return," he said, disappointed.
He flipped through that page to the next, but there was nothing. He scoured the whole book, then started over at the beginning and read it over again. But the result was the same. Nothing.
"That can't be right," he said, "there has to be a way to build it!"
He pulled his knees up to his face and thought.
"Penny might have an idea," he said, "If I can get to her, that is."
He turned to the closet door. It had been very quiet outside for some time now, so it might be a good idea for him to sneak out of the building.
Ever so quietly, he unlocked the door and turned the doorknob. He stuck his head out to see whether or not the coast was clear, and as soon as he knew that it was he grabbed his notebook and manual and walked out the door.
It was night, and so very dark. He had left the flashlight in the closet, and so had to find his own way out of the building.
It was harrowing work, and it took a while. Once or twice he thought he heard someone following him, but he knew that it was just his imagination.
"Alright, Sherman," he told himself, "You're almost out."
Finally, he had found an exit. He pushed it, and it opened without struggle. So he walked out of the building and into the darkness outside, and slowly made his way to the Peterson house.
That walk was even scarier than the dark building. But he made it safely at last, and found his way to Penny's window. Picking up a few stones, he threw them against the windowpane. Penny soon opened the window.
"Who's there?" She asked.
"It's me!" Sherman replied, "Can I come in?"
"Back door," she replied, and shut the window. As soon as Sherman entered the house, Penny grabbed his wrist.
"Sherman!" She whispered to him as she dragged him into the basement, where they could talk secretly, "What happened to you? You look awful!"
"I walked here from the courthouse," Sherman said, "It isn't as fun at night. But guess what! I discovered the code!"
"You mean the WABAC Return?" Penny asked, "I saw you write that in your notebook before the lights went out. Is that why you ran away?"
"I didn't run away, Penny," Sherman said, "Someone dragged me out of the room and hid me in a closet."
"Really?" said Penny, "Who did that?"
"I don't know," said Sherman, "But I'm glad someone did. I don't like Edwin Whiner."
"Nobody does," Penny said, agreeing completely, "So about the code?"
"Oh!" said Sherman, opening up the WABAC manual, "The WABAC Return is really cool. It talks about it here in the manual. It's made to bring the WABAC back from...from wherever it is."
"Sherman, that's amazing!" said Penny, "Just what we need!"
"Yeah," said Sherman, "But there's a problem. It's not build yet, and this book doesn't have any instructions."
"What about the other book?" Penny asked, "The library book?"
"I didn't think of that," said Sherman, "But how could it be in there?"
"Maybe it's in code somewhere," said Penny, her eyes lighting up, "Stay here! I'll go get the book."
She disappeared, and reappeared shortly with the book written by P. Body.
"Alright," she said, "If the instructions aren't in the manual, they have to be in here."
"But where do we start?" Sherman asked.
"Anywhere, I guess," Penny said.
They looked at the table of contents.
"I think we should go to chapter six," Sherman said, "Zoning issues and temporal displacement."
"Let's look in chapter ten," said Penny, "Mechanics: Knowing your time machine."
"We'll look in both," said Sherman, turning first to chapter six.
After a few minutes of reading the page, Penny gasped.
"Look!" she pointed.
"It's a good idea to have a return button at home," Sherman read, "In case anything happens to your time machine. That's it, Penny!"
"Yes!" said Penny, "Quickly, turn the page!"
They did so, but there was nothing about how to build the return button.
"Let's look at chapter ten," Penny said.
But there was nothing there either.
"Don't tell me he didn't put it in here!" Sherman groaned.
"He did, he must have," Penny said, "Remember? The note said that if you needed any help, both books would be able to help you."
"But where should we look?" Sherman asked.
He opened the book and set it on the table. The pages turned by themselves back to chapter six.
"Sherman, why does this sentence look different from the others?" Penny asked, pointing.
"I don't know," said Sherman, "The words are smaller, I guess. Do you think that's a clue?"
"Why else would your dad make the letters stand out?" Penny smiled. "It doesn't make much sense."
Sherman read the sentence to himself.
"The only barrier upon intrepid leaders daring to help educate wild and backward ancient civilizations remains eternally this: understanding remote nationalities goes onward towards only past accomplishments gathered; eventually, travelers withhold objectives."
The page went on to explain, in normal letters, that giving certain kinds of knowledge to a nation before it was ready caused an enormous amount of problems.
"Wow," Sherman said, "Do you think it's saying why Mr. Peabody won't tell us where he is?"
"Maybe," said Penny, "But that doesn't explain why he wrote it smaller than the other words in the book."
"Hmm," said Sherman, putting his hand to his chin, "So how is that a clue? If it even is a clue?"
Penny was just about to say that yes, it was a clue, she had already told him so, when the basement lights turned on. For the second time that night, Penny and Sherman found themselves looking at Mr. and Mrs. Peterson. And they both looked more than a little mad.
"Uh oh," Sherman said.
"Sherman!" Mrs. Peterson said, "Why on earth did you run away tonight?"
"Don't you know how bad that looks for you?" Mr. Peterson asked, "And to show up back here, of all places! People are going to think we kidnapped you or something."
"What?" Sherman said, coming up the basement steps to speak with them, "No! I just...I can't go with Mr. Whiner."
"The court says you have to," said Mr. Peterson, "And if you don't, there could be consequences."
"But Penny and I are so close to finding Mr. Peabody!" Sherman said, "Can I pleeeeeeeeeease wait here until we find him again?"
Mr. Peterson sighed. "And when will that be?" He asked, "Sherman, as much as we'd like to be your guardians, we can't go against the law."
"Well," said Sherman, "Can't I ask the Judge to give me one more chance?"
Mr. and Mrs. Peterson looked at one another.
"I'm not sure you can," Mrs. Peterson said, "Sherman, I know this is hard on you, but you're going to have to go with Mr. Whiner."
"Wha-?" Sherman said, "No!"
"Listen Sherman," Mrs. Peterson said, bending down on one knee so that she was eye level with him, "You have to. We could be put in jail just because you're here with us. Now, do you really want that to happen?"
"No," Sherman sniffled.
"Come on," said Mr. Peterson, "Get your coat. We'll drive you to the police station."
"B-but dad," said Penny, "You said they can put you in jail!"
"Oh, I think the Chief will understand. He and I are old pals," said Mr. Peterson, "But still, we'd better be going."
Within half an hour, the four of them were standing inside a well-lit police station.
"Ah, Paul!" said one officer, "Long time no see!"
"Hello Chief Ebullient," said Mr. Peterson.
"What brings you and the family here so late at night?" The Chief asked, "Not trouble, I hope?"
"Sherman here," said Mr. Peterson, "Has been staying with us since his father...disappeared. Tonight the court awarded custody of him to someone else, but the boy...well, he ran away and came back to us."
"I see," said the Chief, "Sherman, was your new guardian hurting you?"
"No," said Sherman.
"Then why did you run away?" The Chief asked.
"Because-becauseheonlywantsmebecausemydadisrich," Sherman blurted out. At that moment, it was like a floodgate opened, and he began to tell the entire story. "I tried to tell the court I could handle my own money but they wouldn't listen, and I really want to just give it all away to people who need it, and I started doing that, but there was a problem and the court said I couldn't handle the money, and I really just want to wait for my dad to come back, and I'm trying to find him, and-"
"Calm down, young man!" said the Chief, "Is your dad away on a trip?"
"His father is Mr. Peabody." said Mr. Peterson,
Understanding shone clear on the Chief's face. "Well," he said, "That explains it. Who did the court appoint as your guardian?"
"Mr. Whiner," said Sherman.
"I see," said the Chief, who really did see, "And I take it you don't approve?"
"No!" said Sherman.
"Well," said the Chief, "I must admit, neither do I. But that doesn't change the law, my young man. You ran away from Mr. Whiner, and unfortunately you're going to have to go back, unless he's abusive. Do you understand that?"
Sherman nodded and mumbled incoherently, then kicked at an imaginary pebble on the clean police station floor.
"I'm going to have to give him a call," said the Chief, already reaching for the phone, "And it might be better if you say your good-byes now, before he gets here."
The Petersons apparently agreed, all but Penny.
"No!" she said, "You can't do this to him, you crook!"
"Penny!" scolded her father, "I'm so sorry, Chief. My daughter and Sherman are very close."
"That's alright," said the Chief sadly, sad at their predicament rather than the insult, "I understand completely."
The Petersons said their goodbyes, and to her credit it took five police officers to tear Penny away from Sherman. Sherman found himself held tightly by one of the police officers as he watched the others escort Penny, screaming and kicking, to the Peterson family car. Not that Sherman needed holding. On the contrary, he was perfectly still. He didn't want the Petersons to get into any trouble because of him.
A few seconds later the policemen walked back into the station.
"The little girl says these are Sherman's," one of them said, and he gave Sherman the WABAC manual, the library book and the notebook.
Sherman didn't pay much attention to what was going on around him for a while. He was aware that the policemen were trying to entertain him, and he managed to smile a little for their efforts, but he really didn't want to do anything except hold onto his father's manual and his father's book. It seemed to him that going with this new guardian was just as good as saying that his father was gone forever.
After a long time, Sherman suddenly realized that someone was talking to him. He looked up to find himself face to face with Mr. Edwin Whiner, who roughly grabbed him by the arm and stood him up from the chair.
"Up you get!" he said, "Shame on you for running away! You're going to have so much fun at your new house. We're going to your new room, and tomorrow you can play in the pool. Whichever pool you want. The one with waves is really fun, you know." He chuckled. "And now I have enough money to build whatever you want, you know. A roller coaster, maybe?"
"No!" Sherman said, wrenching himself out of the man's arms. The Petersons weren't here anymore, so there was no need for him to hold back. "I won't go with you!" he shouted.
Despite the fact that the station was full of policemen, none of them came to the rescue of Edwin Whiner when Sherman shockingly ran away from him.
"Hey!" he shouted, "Get back here, kid!"
One or two policemen conveniently stepped into Mr. Whiner's way, unfortunately blocking Sherman from view. Sherman took that opportunity to run out the front door, where a cab was waiting.
"Here now!" said the cab driver when Sherman ran into the car, "Are you Sherman?"
"Yes!" Sherman said.
"Oh, that's alright then," said the cab driver, "You're the one I was sent to pick up."
Sherman was just about to ask who sent for him, when the cab door was wrenched open, and Mr. Whiner stuck his head inside.
"You naughty brat!" He said, "Running away from me like that!"
"Hey!" said the cab driver, "This kid's my fare."
"He's a little young for a customer, isn't he?" Mr. Whiner said mockingly, "Get out of the car, kid."
"Listen," said the cab driver, "I don't know who you are, mister, but this kid's dad called me and asked to pick him up."
"Impossible!" said Mr. Whiner, grabbing hold of Sherman and yanking him forcibly out of the cab. "I'm his legal guardian. His father's dead."
"No he isn't!" Sherman shouted, at the top of his lungs, resisting Mr. Whiner to the best of his ability.
But despite all his protests, Sherman found himself soon seated in a fancy limousine, speeding to Mr. Whiner's house.
He really wished he was back in that cab. He didn't even get to say good-bye to the Chief before he was whisked away.
That night, after Mr. Whiner finally left him alone in a bedroom so large it looked like there could be several people hidden in the corners, Sherman took a deep breath and opened up his notebook.
Keep up the Search, he read, in Penny's handwriting.
"That's right," he whispered, "Penny wants me to figure this out."
He sniffled, and turned to the page in the library book with the strange sentence. He re-read it again:
The only barrier upon intrepid leaders daring to help educate wild and backward ancient civilizations remains eternally this: understanding remote nationalities goes onward towards only past accomplishments gathered; eventually, travelers withhold objectives.
"Hmm," he said, "What does it mean?"
A large grandfather clock which kept time in the corner suddenly chimed, startling him. He curled further into the covers of the bed and shivered.
"I don't like it here," he whispered. He wanted to go home.
But the windows were all locked, and he already knew that the bedroom door was locked too.
Something touched his shoulder, but when he turned around there was nothing there. So he shivered again, even though he knew he had imagined it. It was probably just some nerve misfiring in his shoulder. Mr. Peabody had taught him a little about that.
But just in case someone else was in the room with him, Sherman carefully took his books and hid them under the covers. There was no way that he would let anyone come and take them in his sleep.
"Mr. Peabody," he whispered out loud, "I want to go home. Where are you?"
He tossed and turned for a little while. Just as he was about to fall asleep, he jerked awake. He pulled out the library book from under the covers and held it up to the light of the lamp, which in all honesty he had never turned off, since the room was better with it on.
"Wait a minute," he said, looking at the funny sentence in the book again, "I think I got it!"
With a small laugh he re-read the sentence, and then turned to the page it indicated.