He put down the comic book and walked to the window. Golden beams of sunlight shot forth through the glass and into his room. He also noticed the rain pouring down lightly.

He remembered reading somewhere -- or perhaps he'd heard it? -- that whenever the sun shone through the rain that meant you had a lucky day ahead of you.

"Honey, the bus should be here any moment now," he heard his mom call out.

He went to the bureau, picked up his bookbag, and proceeded towards the living room.

Mom sat on the sofa, engrossed in the Good Morning Today show.

Lauer's guest sat on a plush armchair facing the host. She was dressed in jeans and a bright orange T-shirt on which were written in black the words "Mountains Are For Your Soul."

Billy thought he could see a small marijuana leaf just under the letter "F," though before he could study the image more intently, the camera panned to the left, to what appeared to be one of the other cameramen. He guessed the movement of the camera to be a faux pas on the part of one of the crew. Moments later the camera focused on Matt Lauer.

Lauer rose from his chair and went over to her. "Don't cry, everything's OK," he told her in a calm voice.

In her hands she held a napkin, though she never used it to wipe her tears.

Lauer turned toward the camera. "We're going to take a commercial break now." He smiled. "And when we come back in just a few moments we'll hear Betty's testimony about how another angel -- this one she calls Michelangelo -- saved her from dying in car accident." Then there was music, and suddenly he was gone, replaced by a commercial for Strawberry Pepsi.

Billy went over to his mom and kissed her on the cheek.

"Dear, don't forget your lunch! The bag is there on the table."

"Right, Mom." He turned, headed to the table, grabbed the bag, then ran out the door.

He noticed the bus, which waited patiently on the curb. He was, as always, the first passenger. Claude, the driver, was singing. He couldn't understand the song since it was in Creole, though it sounded like a folk tune from his native Haiti.

"Goot morn', yung man," the driver said in heavily accented English as soon as he entered. "You seem like you rush out die house today."

"Yeah, woke up a little late, had some unfinished homework, plus catching up on yesterday's game."

"How ziem Mets doin'?" Claude pressed on the gas pedal
"Losing so far ...but of course I don't know whether or not they've won until I listen to the rest of the tape. I'll do that when I return home."

The bus reached the corner of the street, then made a left, continuing on Pine Rd.

They traveled in silence for about a minute until Billy said, "You don't suppose you could turn the radio on?"

"No problem, yung man," replied Claude warmly. "I thought you -- "

"No, not for the Mets." Billy unzipped his bookbag and took out a notebook. From the side pocket he took out a pencil. "Actually, wanna see if that crazy guy in Paraguay got elected. Seems as though South America is beginning to get all those wackos."

"Oh, I zie."

They stopped at a red traffic light. Claude turned the radio button. On came static sounds. He continued to turn until it stopped at a news station whose sound was crystal-clear.

Billy opened his notebook, and as the news broadcaster spoke, he drew lines on the page -- insignificant lines, drawn without purpose other than to take away stress.

Over the past several weeks he'd felt tense. It mostly had to do with the end of the school year. Sure, he wanted school to end. Many of his friends were graduating, and many of them, he'd heard, had parents with plans to take them out of state permanently, so prospects for seeing them again were minimal.

"Say, Billy, ev'rythin' OK?"

He immediately awoke from the light reverie he'd been in. He looked up at the rearview mirror, where he saw a concerned Claude staring at him.

"You loo' diepressed."

"No, it's just that I'm not happy about school letting out, that's all," Billy admitted.

"You vorrie abou' not zieing you friends agay. I know, buddie, I vas once you age. I know how tuff it can be ven suddenlie the friens you knew ar' no longer dere."

Billy closed the notebook, and looked out. Today was a dreary day, just like yesterday, and for a moment he wondered if it wasn't the weather that had a large part in his despondency today.

I'll think about other things, he thought. Maybe that'll work and I'll feel better.

"Claude, can I ask you a question?"

In Paraguay, a former elementary school teacher from a small farming village was elected president. The broadcast went to a recorded message of the leader-to-be in which he promised the country would become the third greatest economy in South America after Brazil and Mexico within three years, and sent his wishes to Fidel Castro, whom he described as "God's gift to humanity." "I hope he lives to a hundred and fifty if not more," he added. Followed were vehement criticisms of America.

"Shuur, keed. Go righ' ahead." The bus stopped at a traffic light. "Somethin' botherin' you, ain't it?"

"You know Dr. Steiner, right?"

"The leebrarian, yes." Claude paused. "Bien workin der vor ofer fortie-fife yearz, prettie much vor az lon az the school haz bien dere."

Billy hesitated, then asked, "Do you think sometimes a book can transport you to faraway places? That by reading, you can literally go somewhere?"

Claude didn't immediately answer. He attention was focused ahead. The traffic light turned green and the bus continued. "Oh, son. I dun no iv dat's tru o no." Billy heard the thum-thum of the bus as it slowly drove through the rain-drenched streets of the city, and there was a somnolent quality to the water as it touched the tires. "Boo I dun dink it's tru. Mabie he meent it in a deefiren vay."

"Dr. Steiner told me the other day that you can literally go somewhere else just by reading. Said he's done it himself -- many times."

"I theen meester Steiner vas tryin' to get hees students do reed." The bus stopped at another traffic light. This time Claude didn't turn around. "You know, Billy, you can' alvays beleef everythin' you heer."

"That's what Dr. Steiner said," Billy insisted.

"Oh yeah? Ven? And how?"

"Well, he said that one day many years ago, when he was a kid, he was sitting down at his study in his home, reading a book by Dr. Seuss, when, suddenly, just like that -- poof! -- he disappeared. Into another dimension."

"Vell, keed, I dun theen he meent it leeteral."

Billy looked ahead and saw in the distance the red-colored brick building. He was silent as the bus continued. He looked up and his eyes caught sight of several patches of blue scattered amidst the dark clouds, simultaneously noting that the rain had let up. They surveyed the Heavens before settling on one particular section where a cloud seemed to be the face of Santa.

####
"Here, take this. Travels to the Forgotten Dimensions. Excellent book -- I promise you'll enjoy reading it."

They were in the library, just before lunchtime, four minutes after the end of the third period. Already the students had gone, they were alone.

"Well, I'm not too big on fiction. I'm afraid I'm going to have to pass on it."

"Read," Dr. Steiner insisted. "You won't ever regret it."

"What if . . ." He paused. "Well, you know."

"Yes?"

"Remember some weeks ago when you told me of the incident you had when you were a kid?"

He chuckled. "So?"

"So read on, my son. It'll be the adventure of your lifetime." The librarian paused. "You'll promise me one thing, young man," he finally said.

"What's that?"

"That you'll read it."

"Promise."

####
Once there was a boy named Mark. Miserable, sad, and lonely, he decided one day on taking an adventure ...

Billy paused, allowing himself time to digest the sentences, to discern whether there was deeper meaning behind the words. Already he began to feel shivery, as though a cold wind had suddenly swept through him. He thought of the librarian's words: "Some books'll transport you to places you've never been before." He almost put the book down when he heard a voice within him. Son, don't you dare go. The voice was deep, so deep that it would have made his ribcage vibrate it had been real. Don't continue, for you'll surely regret it. But then moments later he heard another voice, part of that inner voice still, though much warmer than the first: Do it, my son. You have everything to gain and nothing to lose.

So what to do? he asked himself. To continue or not?

He continued:
One day while in the library he found a book: Travels to the Forgotten Dimensions. He had always been particularly interested in the subject of time travel ...

Two words immediately caught his eyes: Time travel. And so he concentrated on those words, for no reason other than that they seemed to be the most interesting. At times they seemed to glow; sometimes they even appeared to jump off the page. He stood there in awe, wondering if his eyes were playing games on him. And then, suddenly ...

...He was in the middle of a field that he'd never been before. On either side lay a narrow creek. The water was muddy, probably just as dirty if not more than it was muddy, and in spite of the thirst with which he was overcome (why am I so thirsty? he wondered), he was reluctant to drink for fear that the water was contaminated.

Ahead of him, running west-east, lay a highway. He turned and could see another body of water -- this one appeared to be a lake. Beyond that lay a mountain, bigger than any he'd ever seen before. He turned to the west, where the sun -- it appeared to be much larger than our own -- shone brightly in the sky, though the sky itself was twilight-dark.

Then he looked to the ground several feet ahead of him. Three sets of freshly made footprints about the size of his shoe dotted the mud of the road. Perhaps south is where home is, he thought. He considered heading back in the direction but immediately dismissed the idea when he turned and noticed how alive the darkness seemed.

He looked upward, hoping that the Heavens would give him some measure of relief.

Up was just as dark as the rest of this illogical land, however, and just as he began to think of how void of stars the night sky was, a large white bird flew in from beyond the darkness and landed several feet in front of him.

A swan. Last time he'd seen one was on a trip to the Central Park Zoo -- what, seven years ago? He'd been three then, but remembered it as though it were yesterday. They were like ducks, from the same kingdom or genera or whatever, but unlike ducks you never ate them (at least not on the side of the world he was from), and they were bigger, and their necks were longer, too. To his amazement the bird spoke: "My Heavens! What an ugly creature you are!" it screamed.

At that point he felt like walking over to the creature and slapping it. It was more a feeling of curiosity than anything else, to see what sort of reaction it would have, but there was a tinge of anger mixed in there as well, a feeling that he'd been thrown out into this fantasy world against his will.

He motioned towards it but the instant he took his first step the bird ran off, disappearing into the darkness beyond.

What was that about?

Here there was no water fountain, no 7-Eleven, no McDonald's -- just he and this strange land where everything seemed a little bigger than it should be. When the realization hit him that it was only he and no one else around he was overcome with a deep sense of longing for home, a feeling which seemed as much physical as mental. He wondered how long he'd be able to stay here before dying of nostalgia. He drew a deep breath, hoping to calm himself, yet that did little to soothe him of his inner pain and fear that he'd been flung out into this strange land and there was no one around.

Where had my world gone? That's the question he asked himself over and over as he walked ahead, wondering if he'd get to see someone -- even a bully would be nice -- so that he wouldn't be as overcome by loneliness.

I've ended up, like Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz, in a place very far from home.

Suddenly he heard a voice. It was deep and dark. "Son, welcome," it said.

He turned and saw a man -- actually more a monster than a man, for he looked like a man, yet was much bigger. He had blond hair, blue eyes. He was dressed in blue jeans, black shoes, and a blue T-shirt. Billy estimated him to be at least ten feet tall.

Said the stranger, "Young man, you're a lost fellow. Why you come here?"

"It wasn't any fault of my own, really," Billy replied. He told him about the book.

The monster took two steps toward him. "Are you sure you didn't die on some overdose? That book story seems kind of strange to me."

"Me -- drugs? No way. I've been scared of those things ever since I was in the second grade."

"Good for you."

"Who are you?" Billy demanded.

"Before I answer, let me ask you a few questions." The monster coughed -- a loud ha that vibrated throughout and echoed throughout the land, sounding as though they were in a small, quiet room. He took out a napkin from his pocket and said, "I mean, you're on my territory, not the other way around. And to tell you the truth, I'm not exactly happy about it either."

"Where am I?" Billy pressed. He stepped several feet back, concerned the monster would attack him at any moment. "Just tell me where the hell I am."

"In a land far away from home," the creature responded. He blew his nose into the napkin. "About twenty thousand light-years from home."

"You mean -- twenty hours?"

"No. Light-years. You know what they are?" The creature smiled, and Billy could see his two front teeth missing; the other two adjacent the ones missing were sharp, reminded him of fangs, and suddenly, a chill ran through him. He had a deep fear of snakes.

Billy shook his head, being careful not to divulge his fear, yet knowing deep within him that within seconds he'd run -- as fast as he could. He didn't know where, but only that he'd run and try to escape from this creature. "I don't know. . ." he said in a quavering voice, "what a light-year is."

"The time it takes for light to travel in one year," the creature replied, replacing the napkin in his pocket. "For example, the nearest star, Proxima Centauri, is four and a quarter light-years away from Earth -- I learned that many years ago in school -- which means that, if I were to get in a shuttle there right now, one that flies at the speed of light, I'd arrive approximately four years and three months later."

"You'd have to travel pretty darn fast," Billy admitted.

"One hundred eighty three thousand miles per second. That's like going around the Earth eight times in one second."

"Like Superman in the movie."

The creature shrugged. "I'm sorry?"

"You don't know who Superman is?"

"I don't."

Billy blinked and sighed. "Anyway, how did I get so far in such a short time?" To his amazement he'd forgotten about the possibility of being eaten alive. Perhaps it had been because he'd been suddenly swallowed in a wave of information. His mind -- thankfully -- had gone elsewhere. But now the anxiety was again creeping upon him.

"I must admit, you've been traveling an awfully long time," the creature announced, and he took two steps towards him. "Earth is a long ways from here."

"I want to go home."

"Well, before anything, why don't I invite you to dinner at my place?" He gave Billy a cold, hard stare, the kind that seemed to say, `You'd better not try anything stupid in my home,' and `I only invite a select few'. "My brother's there. Wonderful guy -- warm and friendly -- and I'm sure you'll have just as much pleasure meeting him as he'll have you."

For the second time Billy asked, "Where the hell am I?" His fists curled and he felt a cold sweat break out on his forehead. Fear no longer gripped him; anger was now the primary force.

"I'm sorry."

Billy was silent.

"For how you feel. I mean, it's no fault of your own, really. That Dr. Steiner told you to read that book, and here you are, all by yourself, in a country you know not." Sadness seemed to overtake him. "Well, all I can say is if you want to leave I can make your wish come true."

"How'd you know?" Billy asked.

"We know everything," the creature replied.

"Wait. I don't think I want to leave -- at least not yet." A pang of guilt rushed over Billy. Ashamed he'd initially thought the creature evil, he said, "I'm sorry if I come out as rude." He paused. "You see, I didn't exactly ask to be here, so I'm sure you'll understand."

"It's nothing, really. I understand," the creature said simply.

"What's your name, by the way?" Billy asked, managing a smile.

"Lowan." The creature approached Billy. Now he was only a foot ahead of him. He offered his hand.

Billy took it and shook it. The hand felt heavy. "Pleased to meet you."

"Please to meet you, too."

"I'm sorry about the way I spoke to you," Billy said in a low tone.

Lowan let go of his hand. "No problem, young man." He nodded. "I understand -- you being in a land you've never been before. I would feel the same."

"Everything here just seems so weird."

"Never mind, young man. Are you up on my offer?"

Without hesitation Billy replied, "I'll stay and see more about your land. I'm sure it must be interesting."

####
All laughed in unison. They were seated at the table in Lowan's cabin.

Billy noticed there was something that caught his attention on the table: a glass pitcher, right in the center, inside of which was a greenish liquid. To him it looked like paint.

Beside it lay a silver cup.

Liki took the pitcher. "Son, you're gonna try something I'm sure you'll like." Lowan dragged the cup and pushed it toward himself.

"Milk?" asked Billy.

Liki said, "Why don't you try it and see for yourself." He grinned, a gesture that was at once demeaning and mocking. Billy also thought he noticed a wolf behind the grin, and it suddenly occurred to him that these creatures were mixed with animals as well. He glanced at Liki and concentrated on his features. For someone reason he reminded him of an eagle: The nose was pointed, the eyes set deep in a face that (he noticed this for the first time) was perfectly round. His hosts were definitely mixed with animal. Somewhere in their heritage they had animal relatives.

He returned his attention to the pitcher Liki held. The sun's rays were now shooting forth inside the cabin and now cast a light on the liquid, and it now appeared to glow a little.

Liki poured it into the silver cup and handed it to him.

He hesitated.

"Take it," Liki said, smiling. "You won't regret it -- I promise."

Billy grabbed it, smelled it (but there was no scent to it), hesitated some more, then finally, with his eyes closed he put the cup to his mouth. He took three swallows.

It tasted rotten, like sour milk.

He squirmed.

"Is everything OK, young man?" Lowan asked.

"Uh ...yes, it's just that . . ."

Liki said, "Oh, it's the milk!" He took back the cup from Billy. "It's not for everyone. It's pig's milk."

Billy turned his head away from the table and vomited onto the floor. "That's disgusting!"

He looked at Liki, who had a frown on his face (You look even more like an eagle now, he thought). The color of happiness and excitement had instantly dissipated, replaced by a gloom that could've been part hurt and part dejection, unhappiness for having his guest shown him what he thought of his offered drink.

Then he turned to Lowan, who likewise looked sad, even more so than his brother. "I see you don't like it."

"Disgusting!" Billy hollered. "Don't you guys know the only milk that's drinkable is cow's milk?"

"It's flying pig's milk," said Liki. The dejected feeling on his face had gone. "Supposed to be healthy for you."

"Here you have pigs that fly?" Billy asked.

Lowan nodded. "Most pigs here do, as a matter of fact."

The room suddenly fell silent. He was grateful this talk about pig's milk would go no further, lest he again vomit.

"You earthlings -- some of you are idiots," Liki said. "I do like your music, though," he added, taking out a picture from inside his pocket. "See here." He handed Billy the photo.

He took it. Stevie Wonder.

"I love Stevie Wonder," Liki said, his eyes lighting up. "Such a talented singer. He's blind, isn't he?"

"Yes."

"But how could that be?" Liki asked.

"Well, he was born that way," Billy replied, looking at the picture of Stevie Wonder attentively, which, from its faded appearance, he assumed was from the eighties.

Liki said, "You know, blindness is a rarity in our world. I mean, one in ten billion."

Lowan touched Billy on the shoulder. For a moment Billy thought that he'd fall down on his chair because of his hand's heaviness. "Your hands are quite heavy," he told Lowan calmly, not wanting to sound offensive.

Immediately Lowan took it back. "I'm sorry."

"You guys yourself don't have ten billion people in your world, do you?" asked Liki. "I think it's something like five billion."

"Correct," said Lowan. "China has the most people. Something like one billion."

"Jeez!" Liki exclaimed, and he banged his fist on the table. "Does that mean one in five people are Chinese!?"

"It doesn't appear as though you guys have ten million people," Billy announced.

"Well, it appeared empty to you," Lowan said. "The fact is you landed in a very secluded part of our world. It's kind of like Greenland. Not too many people live there, but there still are people. Such is the case with us also."

"You know, guys, you sound like nice people," Billy said, "and I really mean it."

There was a hushed silence in the room. Lowan and Liki stared at him wide-eyed with wonder and anticipation.

"But the fact is, I really need to be going back home." Billy considered his next words. He didn't want to hurt their feelings. First of all he didn't know if this was even real -- this experience he was going through. Perhaps it was all a dream, one that seemed as real as any he'd ever had before. Sometimes it happened, you know. You awakened from a dream that seemed so real there is no doubt to you that it actually had been. He sometimes thought that dreams took us to actual worlds that existed somewhere within the vast dimensions of the universe. Otherwise, why did they often seem so real?

"You're not going to leave us now, are you?" Liki asked. He frowned, and the gesture (he still remembered it after all these years -- seemed like one a clown would make after he'd been told he'd be shot for his horrible performance). "I mean, you just got here," he added. "You can't do that to us -- especially not after we been so nice to you."

"I've got to go now, really," Billy said firmly.

"And where's that?"

"Back to New York, where I'm from."

The brothers' expressions at once darkened, though Lowan's darkened the most. "But don't you want to stay here with us? You haven't been here seven minutes and now you wish to leave."

"This land isn't for me." He paused. "I think I need to be going back home."

"Stay," Liki pleaded.

Lowan added, "You'll like living here, believe me. There are very few murders. There do happen, but they're very rare, like once or twice a year. Considering that we have billions of denizens, I think that's quite remarkable."

"I think so, too," Billy agreed. "But I really need to be go -- "

"Nevertheless," Lowan interrupted, "here we believe in reincarnation. After death, the body goes somewhere for twelve years, and then it comes back -- and not as an animal as some of you earthlings believe." He chuckled. "Oh, and the schools are spectacular." He paused. "And I won't forget the people, the overwhelming majority of whom are always very warm and friendly."

Suddenly, something happened -- something very bad and unexpected. Liki -- that sad-faced clown -- pulled out a knife. The thing is, Billy hadn't noticed it. He had been too busy wallowing in the melodrama of leaving friends he'd met earlier in the day.

Pointing the knife at him, that happy-sad face of his announced: "I'm afraid I'm going to have to cut you, my friend, for being rude. Better run!"

And with those words Billy was off. At first he didn't think he'd have a chance against these two, who were much bigger than him. And probably faster as well.

And while he ran he didn't look once behind, fearing that if he did it would cause him to stop even a bit, and that difference could mean the difference between life and death.

####
Suddenly he fell down hard ...to the ground, the concrete ground of ...a New York City street. If his throat hadn't hurt as much as it now did, he'd scream out in joy. He looked around and noticed saw odd faces looking at him, their eyes wide-eyed with wonder. One of them -- a sixtyish lady -- held out her arm to him and said, "Son, are you OK?" She grinned, and for a moment he thought he were in yet another world not his.

"No," he said miserably. "Where am I?"

"You were walking down the street," her companion, a man that was older than she was, said, "and then all of a sudden you just dropped to the sidewalk like you stepped off a cliff."

He looked beside him and saw his bookbag on the floor.

"Where's school?" his voice quavered.

The couple appeared confused.

"I mean, where's my school?"

"Well, PS 417 was right over there until two days ago," the old woman said, and pointed her long finger at a location about a mile away behind him. "But it burned down. Four alarms, they said, half the fire department came, but they came too late..."

He turned and saw the charred remains of what used to be his school. "Oh my -- "

"There a problem, young man? Where you live?"

But he hadn't heard the question. His eyes and mind were still on the school that had burned down.

He walked, heading towards the school. At first he walked slowly, then increased his pace a moment later. After a minute he began running, almost as fast as he had when he had been trying to escape from the monsters of the world he'd just left.

He dropped his bookbag when he reached the street across from the school. He stood still, staring at the remains. He couldn't believe his eyes.

All that remained was the flagpoles -- both standing on the part that used to be the schoolyard. They stood like ghosts in the aftermath of an Armageddon that seemed to have passed over this part of his neighborhood ...

What amazed him the most was that it all seemed to have happened within a pretty short time span ...One moment he was chatting with Dr. Steiner about Travels to the Forgotten Dimensions, and the next he was in the world of demons and monsters.

And now this ...his school building burned down to ashes. If it could rise up like the Phoenix and magically turn back into his old school he would be a happy boy indeed, but that was extremely unlikely. In fact, impossible.

It was gone. Forever.

He stepped back several feet. Mouth wide open, palms framing either side of his head, as though afraid that he'd burst out screaming and be overheard by the entire neighborhood. "I can't believe," he said to himself, and a shudder rose up his spine.

Dr. Steiner was gone.

He knew that deep within him. It was the inner voice telling him. It also told him that there had been an accident at the school two days ago. Dr. Steiner had been trying to fix a broken fuse in the library when ...

A fire ensued.

Everyone escaped from the building except him.

Dr. Steiner was gone. Forever. Unless he was still dreaming...

Twenty minutes later, walking home, he wondered what he would tell Mom -- she certainly wouldn't believe he'd just traveled to another world. Nevertheless, if it was indeed true that he had had a blackout and had passed out, if that had been the reality of this world, then he'd tell her that, and then the pieces would quickly fall into places.

Just as he reached the entrance to the subway, something caught his eye -- a discarded newspaper lying on top of a mailbox. He picked it up. The headline covered nearly a quarter of the page:
Fire Marshal confirms school librarian killed in PS 417 fire
That's all the confirmation he needed. Dr. Steiner was dead for sure. This was no hallucination.

A tear fell down his cheek.

He looked at the night sky, and noticed the millions of stars. Somewhere up there, it was possible to believe, among them, lay the worlds of his dreams.