Next door to the Jiffy Lube was a Burger King. And that didn't look right either. It took me a minute—it really did—to figure out what was wrong.
The sign didn't say "Burger King." It said "Burger Queen."
Burger Queen?
By now I was extremely freaked out.
I looked around for other things that were out of whack. Sure enough, across the street people were lined up to get ice cream cones at a Dairy King. And the cars—they were mostly long and wide, with big fins, like the kind you see in old movies. In the Burger Queen parking lot I saw a really big one that was called a "Jupiter." I'd never heard of a Jupiter. And where were all the SUVs and Jeeps and minivans?
Finally I noticed the kids hanging around outside the Burger Queen. They were all staring at me. One of them called out, "Hey, rad gear, hombre!" At least, that's what I think he said.
I couldn't think what to reply, so I just stared back at him.
"I said, 'Nice clothes,'" the kid repeated, laughing. The other kids started laughing, too.
Well, my clothes were nice. My mom had bought me some Abercrombie cargo shorts and Old Navy t-shirts, and I was wearing brand-new back-to-school Adidas. But the kids in front of the Burger Queen—the boys were wearing tight black pants, shiny leather shoes, and actual white shirts—the kind you button up! The girls were wearing big skirts and baggy sweaters. The boys' hair was long and shaggy; the girls' hair was short and spiky. They all looked totally strange, like they were going to a costume party, although I had no idea what they were supposed to be dressed up as—some rock group?
And they were making fun of me!
I kept walking. I was scared, but I was also sort of fascinated. Why had Burger King changed its name? Why were people dressed funny? Those kids weren't the only ones—the men who walked by me wore suits with odd-shaped hats; the women wore long skirts and way too much makeup.
Why were some things familiar, while other things seemed so completely different? Traffic lights looked the same, for example, but crosswalks were painted in bright yellow zig-zags. I passed a Dunkin' Donuts that looked normal, but the cell phones I saw people using were enormous, the size of hardcover books.
And lots of people stared at me like I was the one wearing a costume.
Finally I wandered into a little park with winding paths and old-fashioned streetlights. Near the entrance, a man was standing on a bench and talking to a small crowd of people. I went over to listen. He was a tall and thin, with long black hair and dark, glittering eyes. He was wearing baggy brown pants and a shapeless white shirt with a necktie hanging loosely over it. His voice was soft, but it carried, and you could hear every word he was saying even from a distance:
"This world is not only stranger than you imagine, it is stranger than you can imagine. And more beautiful. And more full of love. Do not be complacent. Do not live your lives as if each day is a chore to be endured. Seek out the strangeness. Find the beauty. Feel the love."
He turned his glittering eyes on me, then, and all of a sudden he smiled, like he was sharing a joke with me. When he spoke again, it was as if he was talking to me personally.
"'Where is it?' you ask. The strangeness—the beauty—the love." He lifted up his hand. "It is here. It is in each speck of dirt, and in the worm that crawls through the dirt. It is in distant exploding suns. It is just over the horizon." And then, looking even harder at me with those dark eyes, he added, "It is in the home you left behind."
I shivered a little, then tore myself away from the guy and kept walking. He was really creepy. Nobody like that in Glanbury.
But this was Glanbury. I sat on a bench and thought about it.
I was apparently in Glanbury, but it wasn't anything like the Glanbury I knew. Had I stepped into some kind of time machine and ended up in the future? But why would cell phones be bigger in the future? And why would Burger King and Dairy Queen change their names? This just didn't feel like the future. Could it be the past, then? The cars and the clothes looked a little like something out of a 50s TV show, maybe... but cell phones hadn't been around that long, I was pretty sure. Maybe I should go find a newspaper and check the date.
Or maybe I should just go home.
But would I be able to get home? If the thing was a time machine, did it have a dial where you could set the date, like the car in Back to the Future? It hadn't really seemed like a time machine at all. So how could I be sure it would take me back where or when I had come from?
Well, it just had to. All of a sudden I really wasn't interested in this place anymore. I needed to get out of there, right away. I stood up.
And I bumped into someone. A bunch of books fell to the ground. "Sorry, sorry," I said, and bent over to pick them up.
They were textbooks—math and science. I went to hand them to the person, and I froze. It was Nora Lally.
She smiled at me and took them. "No worry," she said. "Thank you."
"It was my—I mean—sure. Sorry."
She tilted her head and looked at me as if trying to figure something out. Then she just smiled again and said, "See ya." And she walked away down the path.
I watched her go.
Nora Lally. Here, wearing a puffy skirt and white socks and shiny black shoes. Smiling at me.
I remembered to breathe. I should go after her, I thought. But she had already disappeared. And if I did go after her, what would I say? What had I just said to her? It had been pretty stupid, right?
And then I thought: If she's here, then it can't be the past or the future. So what is it?
Didn't matter, I decided. I had to go home. With one last look down the path where Nora had walked, I turned and headed back toward the Burger Queen and the Jiffy Lube. I went past where the creepy guy had been preaching, but he was gone, and the crowd had disappeared. I wasn't interested in him now, though. So weird, I kept thinking to myself. Nora Lally—wearing clothes that the real Nora Lally wouldn't get caught dead wearing. But she had smiled at me, and she had talked to me, even if it was just a few words.
Back at the Burger Queen, the kids were still hanging in the parking lot. "Hey, there's the hombre in the short pants!" one of them called out.
"Hombre, aren't you a little old to be dressed like a baby?" another kid shouted.
"What do you need all those pockets for—your pacifiers?" a third one said.
I ignored them. I just wanted to go home.
Then the door of the Burger Queen opened, and I saw Stinky Glover come out, carrying a big bag of food. He was wearing a white shirt and black pants, too, but his shirt wasn't tucked in, and it looked like it hadn't been washed in a week.
The other kids moved away from him.
The strange thing was, with everyone yelling at me, I felt grateful to see a familiar face, even if it was Stinky Glover's.
"Hey Stinky!" I called out.
He looked up at me, and I could tell I'd made a mistake. "What did you call me?" he said.
"Uh, never mind," I replied.
"No. You called me something. What was it?"
"He called you 'Stinky'," one of the other kids told him, and they all laughed.
"That's what I thought." He put down the bag of food and started toward me.
Swell. I walked away.
"Hey! C'mere!"
I walked faster.
"We'll get him for you, Julie!" I heard one of the kids say. Julie?
I started to run—back behind the Jiffy Lube, with the gang of kids behind me. Past the dumpsters. Where was the oak tree? Where was the thing—the time machine—whatever? Was it still there? I had to find it.
"Hey, hombre! We're gonna get you! You can't run forever!"
There was the tree. I reached out my hand—and it disappeared. Thank goodness! I didn't look back at the kids behind me. I just plunged inside and hoped for the best.
Chapter 3
I stepped through the clouds inside the thing and out the other side.
"Hey! Where'd you go?" a voice called.
It was Stinky. My Stinky. Standing in the woods—my woods—looking puzzled.
I tried to catch my breath. "Hiding," I said. I didn't think I could be happy to see Stinky Glover, but right then I sure was.
He still looked puzzled. "Hiding where?"
I waved vaguely. "Behind a tree." I didn't want him to know about the time machine, or whatever it was. I moved quickly away from it.
He seemed to get back his Stinkiness. "Why are you hiding?" he said. "You afraid of me, Lawrence?"
I was no longer happy to see him. I didn't answer. Instead I just kept walking, back towards my house.
"Don't you like wet willies, Lawrence?" he called out.
I ignored him. This time he didn't follow me.
When I finally saw our swing set I stopped and took a deep breath. Man, that had been strange.
I ran through the yard and inside our house, and there was Mom, frowning at me. "Larry, I thought you were going to do your homework," she said.
"Mom, you wouldn't believe—" I began.
"Wouldn't believe what?"
I stared at her. "Well, uh, what a beautiful day it is," I said finally. "I just had to get some fresh air before I started my homework."
She looked at me a little funny, and then just shrugged and said, "All right, but I don't want you going too far into the woods."
"Okay, sure."
So, I didn't tell Stinky because I just don't like him. And I didn't tell Mom because I knew she'd yell at me—first, for disobeying her by going to the army buildings, and second, for doing something idiotically dangerous like actually stepping inside the invisibility thing. Maybe I should have—but you don't know my mom.
I had to tell someone, though.
I figured I could tell my dad. He wouldn't be too bothered by the disobedience thing, especially if it turned out I had made some important scientific discovery, which obviously I had. But he wasn't home from work yet.
In the meantime, I decided to call Kevin Albright. This was just the sort of thing he'd love.
I went into my dad's study and picked up the phone. That turned out to be a mistake. Cassie had arrived home while I was in the woods, and of course she was already on the extension in her room talking to one of her high-school-loser buddies. She'd been demanding her own cell phone, which had caused more eyerolling from Dad. So far, no cell phone.
"Hang up, snot-for-brains!" she screamed at me.
How creative. I banged down the receiver and waited for her to wear herself out talking about how cute her math teacher was or whatever. It took a while. For someone who is always too exhausted to do any chores, she certainly has a lot of energy when she's talking on the phone.
When she finally got off I called Kevin. "You'll never guess what just happened to me," I said.
"Want me to try?" he asked.
"Not really. Listen." And I told him about my adventure. I have to admit it sounded pretty whacked, but Kevin didn't have any problem believing me. More than that—he was ready with an explanation.
"Larry, this is so awesome," he said. "You've found a portal to another universe."
"A portal," I repeated.
"Yeah, you know, a portal—a gateway. An opening into a parallel universe. Not the future, not the past—just different."
I thought about it. "Okay, I sort of get the idea of parallel universes. But, I mean, that's just Star Trek stuff. They're not for real."
"Well, maybe," Kevin said. "But there's this theory I read about. It says that every time anyone makes a choice—you know, turn left or turn right, watch the Red Sox game or watch the Celtics, whatever, a whole other universe splits off from this one. And in that other universe, everything is exactly the same as this one, except that in one of them you changed the channel and in the other you didn't."
"But that's nuts," I protested. "That would mean there'd be, like, kazillions of universes."
"Okay, well, it's just a theory," Kevin said. "But what if it's true? Or something like it? In the place you went to, what if the guy who started Dairy Queen back whenever decided to name it "Dairy King" instead? So another universe splits off, and things go on from there. When some other guy is starting Burger King, well, in this world the 'King' part is already taken, so he names it 'Burger Queen' instead."
"Okay, but what about all the other stuff—the different clothes, the cars, a whole new Glanbury Plaza in the conservation land behind my house? All that's because somebody decided to name his business 'Dairy King'?"
"The butterfly effect," Kevin said. "You know—the idea that a butterfly flaps its wings in China and changes the weather in America. One event ends up making a big difference. Maybe the Dairy King choice wasn't when that universe split off. Maybe something else happened a whole lot earlier. Doesn't really matter. The point is, the changes just keep piling up from when it started, until finally everything is just a little bit different, or maybe a lot different, and there's no way of tracing everything back to that one little event that started it."
"But Stinky was there," I pointed out. "And Nora Lally."
"It was a different Stinky and Nora," Kevin replied. "And a different Glanbury. But not entirely different. No reason why they couldn't be there. No reason why we couldn't be there, for that matter."
That was a strange thought. But it made sense. Something else still didn't make sense, though. "Okay, let's say you're right, and there are all kinds of parallel universes. There's no way of traveling between them, right? No one has ever been to a parallel universe. So what's up with this—this portal? Where did it come from? How come it's back there in the woods behind my house?"
"Beats me," Kevin admitted. "Maybe it's like black holes before they got discovered. Maybe these things are all over our universe but no one has noticed them before."
"Or maybe somebody put it there," I suggested. "Aliens—like that black slab in 2001."
"Yeah, could be."
"But the thing is, why was I the first one to find it? I know it's invisible, and it's kind of out of the way in the woods, but it's not that out of the way."
"Maybe you weren't, but other people kept it secret," he suggested. "Or the government took them away. Maybe it only shows up every few years—like a comet. I don't know, Larry. Anyway, when can I see it?"
"Well, I was going to show it to my dad tonight, and—"
"Larry, come on, you can't do that!"
"Why not?"
"Because once you talk to your father, the grownups'll be in charge—scientists, the army. Like in ET. We'll never get near the thing. This could be the most amazing thing that ever happens in our lives. You can't just give it up without doing a little exploring."
"Kevin, I almost didn't get out of that other universe," I pointed out. "What if I couldn't find the thing again? It's invisible, remember?"
"Well, we just have to be more careful. Where's your sense of adventure?"
All of a sudden Cassie was standing in the doorway of Dad's study, shooting death-rays at me with her eyes. "Are you going to be on the phone all day?" she demanded.
Dad says Cassie speaks in italics, and I think I know what he means. I ignored her. "Look, Kevin, I gotta go," I said. "Let me think about it."
"Please, Larry," Kevin begged. "One more time. Just one more time."
I hung up, and Cassie stomped off to make another call. Why wouldn't Dad just give in and get her a cell phone? I went upstairs to my room.
Matthew was playing my Final Fantasy on the Playstation.
"Matthew!" I screamed.
"Oh. Sorry," he said, as if he'd never heard the one about not messing with my stuff. Then he started talking endlessly about some video game he wanted to invent that would be way better than Final Fantasy.
I ignored him and lay down on my bed.
A portal to a parallel universe, practically in my backyard. That was so cool. But did I want to go back inside it? It would be fun going with Kevin. And there was Nora Lally and her smile... maybe I'd run int
o her again.
But what about those kids who had chased me? I could wear different clothing if I went back, so I could blend in better. And I'd stay away from Stinky—that was always a good idea.
Just once more, I thought, then I could turn it over to the grownups. Would I become famous? The First Human to Travel to Another Universe... Or would it all be top-secret, and we could never tell anyone?
Thinking about all that stuff, I kind of blew off my homework, and before I knew it, it was time for supper.
Dad sometimes doesn't make it home for supper, which drives Mom nuts, but he managed to make it tonight. Not that it helped. Family suppers are rarely very pleasant. Lately Cassie has been on some weird diet that only she understands, so she automatically hates everything Mom cooks, which gets Mom in a bad mood. And of course Matthew never shuts up, which gets the rest of us in a bad mood.
"So how was everyone's day?" Dad asked. He always asks that. And he expects an answer.
Cassie rolled her eyes. She acts like she'd rather have her fingernails pulled out than talk to any of us.
I tried to think of something, but if I wasn't going to mention the portal, what else was there? "Fine," I said—my usual answer.
"Did you practice the piano?"
That was the last thing on my mind. My parents have made me take lessons for years, but I'm still not very good. "Uh, no, not yet," I said.
"You have a lesson tomorrow afternoon," Mom pointed out.
"Okay, okay, I'll get to it."
"How about you, Matthew?" Dad said. "Anything interesting happen at school?"
That was all the opening Matthew needed. "We had gym today," he said, "but Jeremy Finkel is such a ball-hog, he only passes to Luke Kelly. Luke isn't as much of a ball-hog as Jeremy, only like maybe seventy-two percent, but he thinks he's so cool and tries to dribble through his legs, but most of the time the ball just bounces off his ankle. Anyway, I was on a team with Peter Gorman and Chet Pillogi, and we were playing this game the gym teacher made up—well, it's kind of complicated, see..."
The Portal Page 2
