Free Through the Medicine Cabinet by Dan Greenburg Page B

ever heard of Newer York?” he said.
    â€œIs that up near Poughkeepsie?” I asked.
    He sighed and rolled his eyes like I had just said the stupidest thing in the world. I had a sudden thought.
    â€œHey,” I said, “is this something. really weird that I’m going to be sorry I got myself involved in?”
    â€œI have time for just one more question,” he said. “And then I have to go.”
    â€œOK,” I said. “Do you have my retainer? I think it fell on your side.”
    He suddenly tried to slam the door. But I was too fast for him. I stuck my arm into the medicine cabinet. That stopped him from shutting it. He grabbed my hand and tried to pry it off the door. I grabbed his wrist.
    â€œLet go!” he shouted.

    â€œNot till you give me my retainer!”
    He tried to pull away. I held on tight. He backed up. I hung on with both hands. He pulled me through the medicine cabinet. Then we both fell onto the floor in his bathroom.
    â€œNow you’ve done it!” he shouted. “Now you’ve really done it!” He looked fright - ened.
    â€œDone what?” I asked.
    â€œThe one thing nobody is ever supposed to do,” he said.
    â€œWhat’s that?” I asked.
    â€œCross over into a parallel universe!”

Chapter 4
    Â 
    Â 
    Â 
    â€œ W hat the heck is a parallel universe?” I asked.
    Zeke looked around nervously.
    â€œShhhh!” he shouted. “Somebody might hear you!”
    â€œYou’re the one who’s shouting,” I said. “What the heck is a parallel universe?”
    â€œWell, it’s kind of like this,” said Zeke. “Our universe is right next to yours. It’s so close you wouldn’t believe it. It even takes up some of the same space as yours. Only you can’t usually see us. Except on Opening Days. Like today.”
    â€œToday isn’t Opening Day,” I said. “The baseball season doesn’t start for a couple months yet.”
    Zeke sighed and shook his head.
    â€œThe kind of Opening Day I’m talking about,” he said, “has nothing to do with baseball. It’s when your universe and mine move right next to each other. It doesn’t happen a lot. It’ll be years before it happens again.”
    â€œSort of like an eclipse?” I asked.
    â€œSort of,” he said. “When it’s Opening Day, we can look through certain openings, like a medicine cabinet. Then we can see your universe. Which, by the way, isn’t any better than ours.”
    â€œI didn’t say it was better,” I said. “Did I say it was better?”
    â€œMaybe not. But I bet that’s what you were thinking,” he said. “We’ve got everything you’ve got. And it’s just as good, believe me. Maybe even better.”
    â€œOK, OK!” I said. Then I picked myself up off the floor. I got my first good look at the parallel universe in Zeke’s bathroom.
    Hmmmm.
    It looked pretty much the same as mine. Only different. First of all, there was something odd about the sink. There were two faucets. But they were marked Cold and Not So Cold.
    Then I looked at the roll of toilet paper by the toilet. It looked like sandpaper. I hoped I wouldn’t be in the parallel universe long enough to have to use the bathroom.
    I noticed there was a lot of water on the floor. When I glanced at the shower I saw why. Instead of a shower curtain, there were venetian blinds.
    â€œSo what’s Newer York like?” I asked.
    â€œOutstanding,” he said.
    â€œHow many channels do you get on TV?” I asked.
    He looked at me suspiciously.
    â€œYou get more than one channel?” he asked.
    â€œNever mind,” I said.
    â€œHey,” he said. “Everything in the Big Banana is as good as anything you’ve got in New York.”

    â€œOh, you call Newer York the Big Banana,” I said. “Like we call New York the Big