It’d been quite some time since the Wexler Neighborhood had someone new move in. Across the street from the Vandersmith-Jones house, a moving truck sat in front of the Winston family house. Damien mentioned it in passing during breakfast, and Greg’s ear perked up.

“Wait, someone is moving into the Winston house? Are you sure?” Greg asked between mouthfuls of Froot Loops. “I just saw Barbara Winston going to work yesterday morning. I was thinking how sad it was that she’s essential, you know?”

“Yeah,” Damien muttered as he poured the milk into his Corn Flakes. “I’m pretty sure it’s the Winston house.”

“No one can move out overnight without making a lot of noise.” Greg crunched with his mouth open as he pondered. “Maybe someone is moving in with them.”

“It’s possible.” Damien looked up from his bowl to see Greg had a determined glint in his eyes. He knew this was the beginning of trouble, yet he said nothing. There was no point in stopping what was coming.

“I think I should go greet the new person into our warm and loving neighborhood with my famous peach ginger cobbler.”

After breakfast, Greg made the cobbler while preparing probing questions to get the scoop on the situation. Damien merely stood by and nodded when appropriate.

As Greg left the house, Damien thought it best to accompany him to help mitigate whatever social faux pas was about to be committed.

They passed the moving truck and approached the two-story house with anticipation. Greg noticed Barb’s car was not in the driveway. It made sense; it was 10 am, she’d be at work right now --nothing to worry about.

The front door was open, allowing them to see inside to the foyer. All of the furniture was gone. The walls were bare, and the smell of fresh paint was in the air. This confused both of them.

“Hello?” Greg said, almost in a whisper. In an instant, a woman appeared in the doorway, causing him and Damien to jump back. “Hello! You must be new.”

The woman smiled, tossing her long black hair over her shoulder in a fashion Cher would have liked. “Yes. I just got into town this morning. You must be the welcoming committee.”

Greg uttered a nervous laugh as he held up the casserole dish containing his cobbler. “I’m Greg, and this is my boyfriend, Damien. Well, not the cobbler. It’s peach ginger. But this is my boyfriend.” Realizing he was talking too much, he shut up and nudged Damien to speak.

“We live right across the street, so if you ever need a cup of sugar or anything…” Damien said, nudging Greg back.

The woman continued to smile, allowing it to linger on her lips. “I’m Pax Johannsen. It’s very nice to meet you.” She stared at Greg expectantly, but he didn’t appear to notice. It wasn’t until Damien whispered to him to give her the cobbler that he did so. “You’re so sweet to bake this for me,” she said as she accepted the glass dish. “No one’s ever done that for me before.”

“I’m gay. Baking is one of our superpowers. Bread? Please! So basic! Cobbler is awesome.” Greg chuckled awkwardly as he stared into the empty house.

“I appreciate it.” Pax nodded and then shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “Well, I’ve got a lot of unpacking to do…”

“Yes, we should let you get back to that. Welcome home!” Greg’s nervous energy had gotten to Damien, for he found himself bowing to her. He stood up and wondered why that happened. He hooked Greg’s arm and dragged him across the street.

“Keep the dish if you want!” Greg shouted from his driveway.

As soon as he shut the front door, Greg raced to the window and watched Pax enter her house. “Did you see that, Dames? That house was naked as the day I was born! Barb and her family are gone.”

Damien pulled Greg away and hugged him in the hopes of calming him down. “It’s okay. I’m sure there’s a logical explanation for this.” He placed his hands on either side of Greg’s head and nodded it for him. “Pretty sure there’s nothing weird about Pax’s sudden appearance.”

Greg’s eyes narrowed as he said, “You’re probably right.” But he was pretty sure he wasn’t. “I hope she likes the cobbler.”

“She’ll love it.” Damien kissed Greg and went upstairs to shower.

Greg returned to the window and continued to watch the Winston house. Something was definitely wrong. He felt it in his bones. He had to know who Pax was and what she did to the Winstons. The idea of asking her these questions came to his mind, but if she was responsible for their disappearance, she wasn’t going to tell him. No, he had to find out the good old fashioned way, recon!

Knowing Damien would be in the shower for the next twenty to twenty-five minutes, Greg had time to scope the place out and be back before the shower ended. He quietly opened the door and snuck out.

Pax wasn’t near the moving truck, so Greg sauntered up to it with no problem. He checked to make sure she wasn’t standing in the doorway before he dared peek inside the truck. The coast was clear. He lifted the gate just enough to get a good view of the contents. There was nothing inside. “The hell?” Why would Pax rent a truck only to put nothing in it? “That’s super sus, sis.” This required further investigation.

Greg tiptoed across the gravel yard toward the front door. It was still open, so he poked his head inside. He let out an audible gasp when he saw the inside was now fully furnished. He had to do a double-take. He had only been gone no longer than five minutes, and the house looked like it’d been lived in for months. He’d heard of good interior designers working quickly, but no one was that good.

He knew he should go back home to report this to Damien, but what he’d seen only raised more questions. He needed more proof, something tangible to take back to Damien.

Breaking and entering wasn’t something he usually condoned, but it wasn’t beneath him either. He took a deep breath and stepped inside. He stood in the foyer and listened for any indication Pax was nearby. It sounded like she was upstairs. Not knowing when she’d come down, he quickly got to work exploring the common areas.

The kitchen was bigger than his, which made him jealous. The countertops looked like they were made from the finest granite money could buy. Was Pax rich? If so, why would she pick this neighborhood to live in? Everything was neatly put away. Dishes were clean and stacked in the cabinets, the fridge was well stocked, and the pantry was fully stocked.

“Impossible,” Greg muttered under his breath. This wasn’t natural, he thought. Too much work had been done in too short a time. There was no logical explanation for this other than “Witchcraft.”

It was then he heard a door open and creak behind him. He turned around to see it led downstairs. “A chamber of secrets, eh?” The compulsion to go down there hit him, and he obeyed.

He felt a cold breeze rush up the stairs as he descended. He thought he might have been in Antarctica if he didn’t know better. He expected to find the floor covered in snow. What he found instead was more surprising.

He rubbed his eyes to make sure he was really seeing what he thought he was seeing. A huge swirling vortex emitting blue and purple light stood before him, hitting him with glacial winds. What the hell was this doing there? Where did it come from? Where did it go? Is this where the Winstons went?

“I put it there,” said a female voice from the top of the stairs. “I conjured it from the other side. It leads to the parallel universe where I’m from. Yes, I moved the Winstons there this morning. They won’t notice the difference.” Pax joined Greg at the bottom and issued the same smile as before, not at all upset to find him there.

“You’re from a parallel universe?” Greg asked, dumbfounded by her straightforwardness. “Wait, did you just read my mind?”

Pax nodded. “Well, kinda. In my world, you were quite curious as well. Believe it or not, I’ve had this exact conversation with you before, just not this version of you.” She studied his face and chuckled. “You have the same expression he did.”

“So, you knew I was coming?”

“You could say I saw you coming from worlds away.” She saw she was blowing his mind, so she snapped her fingers to dispel the vortex. “It’s going to take you some getting used to, but you’ll see it’s nothing special.”

For once, Greg was utterly speechless. Finding out about parallel worlds could do that to a person.

Pax put her arm around his shoulder and led him upstairs. His silence amused her.. “I know what could make this all better. How about a bowl of your famous peach ginger cobbler?”

Ears perked, Greg smiled. “That sounds delicious! You’re obviously a fan.”

“Ha! It seems to be a superpower all Gregs share.” Pax took the cobbler from the fridge and set it on the counter.

Greg had so many questions, more than before, but he decided that none of them mattered anymore. It seemed he’d probably get the answers in time if Pax stuck around long enough. He was glad she wasn’t some evil witch like he initially thought. If his alternate versions liked her enough to bake for her, she was alright in his book. He couldn’t wait to tell Damien, but first, cobbler!