a　tap　on　his　shoulder　jarred　him　from　his　thoughts;　he　looked　up　to　see　alby　standing　behind　him,　arms　folded.

        “ain’t　you　lookin’　fresh?”　alby　said.　“get　a　nice　view　out　the　window　this　morning?”

        thomas　stood,　hoping　the　time　for　answers　had　e—or　maybe　hoping　for　a　distraction　from　his　gloomy　thoughts.　“enough　to　make　me　want　to　learn　about　this　place,”　he　said,　hoping　to　avoid　provoking　the　temper　he’d　seen　flare　in　this　guy　the　day　before.

        alby　nodded.　“me　and　you,　shank.　the　tour　begins　now.”　he　started　to　move　but　then　stopped,　holding　up　a　finger.　“ain’t　no　questions　till　the　end,　you　get　me?　ain’t　got　time　to　jaw　with　you　all　day.”

        “but　…”　thomas　stopped　when　alby’s　eyebrows　shot　up.　why　did　the　guy　have　to　be　such　a　jerk?　“but　tell　me　everything—i　wanna　know　everything.”　he’d　decided　the　night　before　not　to　tell　anyone　else　how　strangely　familiar　the　place　seemed,　the　odd　feeling　that　he’d　been　there　before—that　he　could　remember　things　about　it.　sharing　that　seemed　like　a　very　bad　idea.

        “i’ll　tell　ya　what　i　wanna　tell　ya,　greenie.　let’s　go.”

        “can　i　e?”　chuck　asked　from　the　table.

        alby　reached　down　and　tweaked　the　boy’s　ear.

        “ow!”　chuck　shrieked.

        “ain’t　you　got　a　job,　slinthead?”　alby　asked.　“lots　of　sloppin’　to　do?”

        chuck　rolled　his　eyes,　then　looked　at　thomas.　“have　fun.”

        “i’ll　try.”　he　suddenly　felt　sorry　for　chuck,　wished　people　would　treat　the　kid　better.　but　there　was　nothing　he　could　do　about　it—it　was　time　to　go.

        he　walked　away　with　alby,　hoping　the　tour　had　officially　begun.

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