The Next Edition

Albert

Betcha didn't think I'd be back here today. Well *swaggy glance*... here I am.

Albert DaSilva was sat at a table. It was a fancy one of those, with a lace tablecloth and a vase with beautiful flowers. On a fancy silver platter in front of him lay a big leg of lamb. It looked both juicy and crispy, and Albert just knew it was perfectly cooked. The whole setting would in fact have been perfect if it hadn't been for Albert's brother in the corner of the room. He had big horns and was shouting in a language Albert didn't speak. Somehow he still understood that he was being told to eat the lamb. This was a demand he had nothing against.

Heaven entered his mouth when he bit into the rich meat. That lamb did not disapppoint. Albert closed his eyes and went in for another bite. When he opened them again, the table was gone. So was the leg of lamb, the silver platter, his horned brother and the whole fancy room.

He was under his thin blanket, looking at the beige wallpaper of his and Race's room. It was like the whole situation had never happened. He could still feel the tingle of the lamb on his lips. As he pulled his arms out from under his blanket to stretch out, a voice pulled him into the real world.

"What kinda dream were you havin'?" Race asked.

"What?" Albert mumbled back.

"Mmmmm," Race said, doing an impression of Albert from a few moments ago. "Ya looked real pleased. Some pretty girl or somethin'?"

"Nah," Albert did his best to recall the fancy room scene, which was already fading from his memory. "'Was a leg a' lamb I think."

"Ooooh, a pretty leg of lamb?" Race teased.

"Prob'ly," Albert said.

The creaking sound the door made when someone opened it interrupted the conversation, and jolted Albert further awake. Jack stuck his head in.

"Hey, we's leavin' in five minutes if ya can make that."

"We ain't gonna have time ta eat anythin' if yer leavin' that soon!" Race loudly complained.

"Too bad!" Jack shouted from the hallway. "Youse can catch up!"

Race mumbled some words Albert couldn't fully comprehend, but he could tell his friend wasn't exactly overjoyed. His suspicions were confirmed when his blanket was aggressively pulled off of him. Along with it, all his morning drowiness disappeared.

"Hey!" he quickly sat up.

"Get dressed. I want breakfast," Race told him, as if he'd not done anything rude recently.

"So do I. Ya don't hafta force me outta bed for that."

"But you wasn't gettin' up, so yes I did."

"Shut up."

"You shut up."

Albert forced himself to get out of his cold, blanket-less bed, and immediately grabbed his baseball cap. He carelessly slapped it onto his head before leaving the bedroom in nothing but said cap and the pants he'd slept in. He would put on actual clothes after brushing his teeth.

There was one other person in the third floor hallway when Albert entered. That was Specs. One second's eye contact with the other boy was enough for Albert to understand his intentions. The next second, they both booked it to the end of the hall, where the bathroom door was. Albert could have sworn he put his hand on the door handle first. Specs, being taller and more coordinated, easily shoved him away though. He opened the door and flew in like a gunshot. Albert was close after. Their race was quickly cut short because of the presence of another boy in the room.