~ WITHIN THESE SHALLOW DEPTHS ~
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Okay, this is my first Holes ficcy. I just reread the book a few days ago, and then I watched the movie, and I just felt like I HAD to write a fic!! Then I paid a visit to the Holes section on ff.net, and I discovered that the stories here are CRAWLING with Mary-Sues. So, to completely avoid that, the only OC in this story is the villain. So yay!
Oh, and by the way . . . I LOVE MIGUEL CASTRO!! His Spanish accent is so . . . cute . . . heh, which reminds me, there WILL be eventual Zigzag/Magnet slash. Can't help it, just love that pairing. Heh . . . don't hate me.
DISCLAIMER: Don't own any of the D-tent boys, or . . . well, anyone from Holes, really. I DO own Sandra Walker, but that's sorta because in reality, I don't think Louis Sachar really wanted the warden to have a little sister.
CHAPTER ONE +++ The Confines of Everyday Living
Magnet sighed as he leaned back in the metal folding chair. Thirty more minutes of this braindead shrink spouting psychological babble, and then he'd be free.
"José, what you've got to think about is WHY you feel the irrepressible need to do the bad things you do. What is the sole cause? What motivates you to steal puppies from the pet store? Is it an inner feeling of some deep-rooted anxiety? Are you pressured by some sort of manipulative outside source? Loneliness, perhaps?"
"I never stole any puppies," was all Magnet said, scowling.
Dr. Carter furrowed his brow as he scribbled on his clipboard. "Why, your file says you have stolen quite a few animals from various pet shops. Puppies included."
Magnet frowned, looking down at his feet. "What I did wasn't stealing."
"Sneaking a puppy out of a pet store in your pocket without paying for it is considered stealing, José."
The Hispanic boy kept his eyes on his shoes. "It's not right to keep animals locked up in cages."
Dr. Carter rolled his eyes, heaving a sigh. "José, I don't know what sort of laws you're familiar with . . ."
Magnet finally looked up. "Familiar with?"
"Yes. I mean, I know the laws must be rather different in Mexico . . ."
Magnet raised one eyebrow. "How do you know I'm from Mexico? I could be Cuban. Maybe I'm from the Dominican Republic, or Puerto Rico. Hell, for all you know, I'm from Spain."
Dr. Carter looked annoyed. "Your file states you were born in Mexico."
Magnet glared. Damn file.
"José, I'm willing to listen to you. I'm willing to work things out. What can I do to help you understand your mistakes?"
This was the question Magnet had been hearing over and over again for the last two months. Ever since he'd arrived here at the Saint Paul's Clinical Institution for the Mentally Troubled.
It had all started, really, when he'd first been caught with the puppy in his pocket. He'd been sent to Camp Green Lake, in Texas, to "build character." At the camp, he hadn't been locked in a dull white office and drilled on his behavior. No, he'd simply been forced to dig a hole a day. Five feet wide and five feet deep. And it had never bothered him.
Then, the Caveman had come along. Things changed after that. Zero ran away, Caveman drove the water truck into a hole, the Warden got excited over a little old lipstick tube, and everything was different. Magnet hadn't really understood what was going on, not until Caveman and Zero found Kissin' Kate Barlow's loot, not until the Warden and Mr. Sir and Dr. Pendanski were arrested, not until rain finally fell after nearly one hundred years.
For a while, Magnet thoughts things would begin to look up. But then, he'd been sent here. Of all the places in the world, this was the last place Magnet wanted to be. He was relentlessly psychoanalyzed by the many psychologists and counselors at the institute, and so far he'd written 'I WILL NOT STEAL PUPPIES' on the board 1,230 times.
The only good things about the place were the D-tent boys.
Luckily for Magnet, X-Ray, Armpit, Zigzag, Squid, and Twitch had all been relocated to the same place as the Hispanic boy. He didn't see the others very often, all of them having different problems, but he had time to converse with them during meals and free time.
None of them were doing so good either. Zigzag's paranoia issue had managed to land him with Dr. Hurley, who gave him strange challenges like not looking under the bed before he went to sleep. Twitch's shrink, Dr. Jenkins, had positioned Twitch about twenty feet away from one of the staff's Ferrari, attempting an exercise in which Twitch would learn to 'resist the temptation'. Needless to say, Twitch had failed this exercise miserably, and had driven the car through the ugly wire fence surrounding the huge building, resulting in a few legal and maintenance difficulties.
They were fed nasty food, their beds were uncomfortable, and they were forced to wear itchy uniforms.
Magnet was SO ready to bust out of this place.
"José? Did you hear me? José, answer the question."
Magnet blinked. "Hmm?"
Dr. Carter sighed, throwing his hands up. "It's hopeless. Not only are you a juvenile delinquent, but you have Attention Deficit Disorder too."
"Does this mean I can go then?" Magnet asked hopefully.
Dr. Carter waved him off. "Yes, go back to your dorm. But be back tomorrow, understand? And don't arrive late next time, all right, José?"
Magnet nodded quickly as he made a break for the door. "Si. Adios!"
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~
Stanley Yelnats slammed his head against the refrigerator.
"Stanley?! What on EARTH are you doing, baby?"
He was quickly pulled away from the fridge by his mother. "What are you thinking, Stanley?"
Stanley shook his head, attempting to clear his mind. "Um, sorry, Mom. Had a bit of a mental breakdown there."
Mrs. Yelnats eyed her son suspiciously. "Well, if you say so. Just be careful, all right, honey?"
"Yeah, okay, Mom."
Stanley waited until she had disappeared into the family room before grabbing the phone and quickly dialing.
BRIIIIIIIIIIIIIING! BRIIIIIIIIIIIIIING!
"Come on, buddy, pick up," Stanley muttered.
BRIIIIIIIIIIIII-
"Hello?"
"Hi, Mrs. Zeroni? This is Stanley."
"Oh, hello there, Stanley! How are you doing?"
"I'm fine, thank you. Is Hector around?"
"Yes, of course. I'll go get him for you."
"Thanks."
Stanley hummed impatiently, hopping from foot to foot and fiddling with the telephone wire.
"Stanley?"
"Hector!"
"What's up, man?"
"Nothing much. Well, a lot actually."
"I figured. What's going on?"
"I'm not sure you wanna know."
"Me neither. But tell me anyway."
Stanley bit his lip. "Um, well . . ."
"Well?"
"I've been getting these, like, REALLY freaky e-mails and stuff lately . . ."
There was a brief pause. "Freaky e-mails?"
"Yeah . . . from someone I don't know, obviously . . ."
"What do they say?" Hector's voice sounded odd.
"Well, um, they kinda . . . well, they threaten me."
Silence.
"Hector?"
Not a sound.
"You there?"
"I've been getting e-mails too."
Stanley gaped. "What?"
"I haven't told anyone though. It's probably just someone pulling some prank. Or at least, that's what I thought. But if you're getting them too . . ."
"What do you think this means?"
"I dunno, man. What's the address you're getting them from?"
Stanley looked at the words he had written in blue ink on the inside of his left palm. "SW42697@hotmail.com."
"Same here!"
"Whoa . . . man, that's a bit weird . . ."
"You're telling me."
"Hector?"
"Yeah?"
"Don't you think we should tell someone?"
"I dunno . . . you don't think this has anything to do with your great- grandfather's treasure or anything, do you?"
Stanley's breath caught in his throat.
"Oh shit."
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~
A/N: More to come ASAP! It WAS Stanley's GREAT-grandfather, right?? Heh, I kinda forgot . . .
Please review! ^^
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Okay, this is my first Holes ficcy. I just reread the book a few days ago, and then I watched the movie, and I just felt like I HAD to write a fic!! Then I paid a visit to the Holes section on ff.net, and I discovered that the stories here are CRAWLING with Mary-Sues. So, to completely avoid that, the only OC in this story is the villain. So yay!
Oh, and by the way . . . I LOVE MIGUEL CASTRO!! His Spanish accent is so . . . cute . . . heh, which reminds me, there WILL be eventual Zigzag/Magnet slash. Can't help it, just love that pairing. Heh . . . don't hate me.
DISCLAIMER: Don't own any of the D-tent boys, or . . . well, anyone from Holes, really. I DO own Sandra Walker, but that's sorta because in reality, I don't think Louis Sachar really wanted the warden to have a little sister.
CHAPTER ONE +++ The Confines of Everyday Living
Magnet sighed as he leaned back in the metal folding chair. Thirty more minutes of this braindead shrink spouting psychological babble, and then he'd be free.
"José, what you've got to think about is WHY you feel the irrepressible need to do the bad things you do. What is the sole cause? What motivates you to steal puppies from the pet store? Is it an inner feeling of some deep-rooted anxiety? Are you pressured by some sort of manipulative outside source? Loneliness, perhaps?"
"I never stole any puppies," was all Magnet said, scowling.
Dr. Carter furrowed his brow as he scribbled on his clipboard. "Why, your file says you have stolen quite a few animals from various pet shops. Puppies included."
Magnet frowned, looking down at his feet. "What I did wasn't stealing."
"Sneaking a puppy out of a pet store in your pocket without paying for it is considered stealing, José."
The Hispanic boy kept his eyes on his shoes. "It's not right to keep animals locked up in cages."
Dr. Carter rolled his eyes, heaving a sigh. "José, I don't know what sort of laws you're familiar with . . ."
Magnet finally looked up. "Familiar with?"
"Yes. I mean, I know the laws must be rather different in Mexico . . ."
Magnet raised one eyebrow. "How do you know I'm from Mexico? I could be Cuban. Maybe I'm from the Dominican Republic, or Puerto Rico. Hell, for all you know, I'm from Spain."
Dr. Carter looked annoyed. "Your file states you were born in Mexico."
Magnet glared. Damn file.
"José, I'm willing to listen to you. I'm willing to work things out. What can I do to help you understand your mistakes?"
This was the question Magnet had been hearing over and over again for the last two months. Ever since he'd arrived here at the Saint Paul's Clinical Institution for the Mentally Troubled.
It had all started, really, when he'd first been caught with the puppy in his pocket. He'd been sent to Camp Green Lake, in Texas, to "build character." At the camp, he hadn't been locked in a dull white office and drilled on his behavior. No, he'd simply been forced to dig a hole a day. Five feet wide and five feet deep. And it had never bothered him.
Then, the Caveman had come along. Things changed after that. Zero ran away, Caveman drove the water truck into a hole, the Warden got excited over a little old lipstick tube, and everything was different. Magnet hadn't really understood what was going on, not until Caveman and Zero found Kissin' Kate Barlow's loot, not until the Warden and Mr. Sir and Dr. Pendanski were arrested, not until rain finally fell after nearly one hundred years.
For a while, Magnet thoughts things would begin to look up. But then, he'd been sent here. Of all the places in the world, this was the last place Magnet wanted to be. He was relentlessly psychoanalyzed by the many psychologists and counselors at the institute, and so far he'd written 'I WILL NOT STEAL PUPPIES' on the board 1,230 times.
The only good things about the place were the D-tent boys.
Luckily for Magnet, X-Ray, Armpit, Zigzag, Squid, and Twitch had all been relocated to the same place as the Hispanic boy. He didn't see the others very often, all of them having different problems, but he had time to converse with them during meals and free time.
None of them were doing so good either. Zigzag's paranoia issue had managed to land him with Dr. Hurley, who gave him strange challenges like not looking under the bed before he went to sleep. Twitch's shrink, Dr. Jenkins, had positioned Twitch about twenty feet away from one of the staff's Ferrari, attempting an exercise in which Twitch would learn to 'resist the temptation'. Needless to say, Twitch had failed this exercise miserably, and had driven the car through the ugly wire fence surrounding the huge building, resulting in a few legal and maintenance difficulties.
They were fed nasty food, their beds were uncomfortable, and they were forced to wear itchy uniforms.
Magnet was SO ready to bust out of this place.
"José? Did you hear me? José, answer the question."
Magnet blinked. "Hmm?"
Dr. Carter sighed, throwing his hands up. "It's hopeless. Not only are you a juvenile delinquent, but you have Attention Deficit Disorder too."
"Does this mean I can go then?" Magnet asked hopefully.
Dr. Carter waved him off. "Yes, go back to your dorm. But be back tomorrow, understand? And don't arrive late next time, all right, José?"
Magnet nodded quickly as he made a break for the door. "Si. Adios!"
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~
Stanley Yelnats slammed his head against the refrigerator.
"Stanley?! What on EARTH are you doing, baby?"
He was quickly pulled away from the fridge by his mother. "What are you thinking, Stanley?"
Stanley shook his head, attempting to clear his mind. "Um, sorry, Mom. Had a bit of a mental breakdown there."
Mrs. Yelnats eyed her son suspiciously. "Well, if you say so. Just be careful, all right, honey?"
"Yeah, okay, Mom."
Stanley waited until she had disappeared into the family room before grabbing the phone and quickly dialing.
BRIIIIIIIIIIIIIING! BRIIIIIIIIIIIIIING!
"Come on, buddy, pick up," Stanley muttered.
BRIIIIIIIIIIIII-
"Hello?"
"Hi, Mrs. Zeroni? This is Stanley."
"Oh, hello there, Stanley! How are you doing?"
"I'm fine, thank you. Is Hector around?"
"Yes, of course. I'll go get him for you."
"Thanks."
Stanley hummed impatiently, hopping from foot to foot and fiddling with the telephone wire.
"Stanley?"
"Hector!"
"What's up, man?"
"Nothing much. Well, a lot actually."
"I figured. What's going on?"
"I'm not sure you wanna know."
"Me neither. But tell me anyway."
Stanley bit his lip. "Um, well . . ."
"Well?"
"I've been getting these, like, REALLY freaky e-mails and stuff lately . . ."
There was a brief pause. "Freaky e-mails?"
"Yeah . . . from someone I don't know, obviously . . ."
"What do they say?" Hector's voice sounded odd.
"Well, um, they kinda . . . well, they threaten me."
Silence.
"Hector?"
Not a sound.
"You there?"
"I've been getting e-mails too."
Stanley gaped. "What?"
"I haven't told anyone though. It's probably just someone pulling some prank. Or at least, that's what I thought. But if you're getting them too . . ."
"What do you think this means?"
"I dunno, man. What's the address you're getting them from?"
Stanley looked at the words he had written in blue ink on the inside of his left palm. "SW42697@hotmail.com."
"Same here!"
"Whoa . . . man, that's a bit weird . . ."
"You're telling me."
"Hector?"
"Yeah?"
"Don't you think we should tell someone?"
"I dunno . . . you don't think this has anything to do with your great- grandfather's treasure or anything, do you?"
Stanley's breath caught in his throat.
"Oh shit."
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~
A/N: More to come ASAP! It WAS Stanley's GREAT-grandfather, right?? Heh, I kinda forgot . . .
Please review! ^^