Okay, so here's my first attempt at a Holes fanfiction. I wrote this almost entirely on my phone and, while I use the same program on my phone as on my computer, everything didn't transfer over as smoothly as I would have liked so I hope that doesn't show.

I decided to write this because Holes fanfiction tends to be terribly, horribly cliche. That's not necessarily a bad thing, but I wanted to do something a little different. This is, essentially, what would happen if Holes mixed with Jerry Springer. I intended this to be funnier than it comes across. So please, no situations in here are meant to be taken too seriously. This is all in good fun.

A warning: this story contains possibly offensive language, scenes of a sexual nature, and violence. Hope that doesn't deter anyone.

Chapter One

Crooked wheels keep turning

Children, are you learning

Acclimatize but don't you lose the plot

A history of blisters

Your brothers and your sisters

Somewhere in the pages we forgot

- "This Is Your Life" by the Killers

Six hours, twenty-two minutes, and forty-one seconds. That's how long it took for my entire world to fall apart. I hadn't even wanted to go to the stupid party in the first place.

The only reason I went was because of Hannah. I did a lot of things because of her. I thought she was my best friend.

There was a jolt as the bus turned off the main highway and onto an unpaved dirt road. Though it had been a brisk fifty- two degrees in Benton when I left, it was about a billion and eight degrees here. I had melted so much I was a part of the vinyl seat now.

The guard seemed completely unaffected by the heat. He sat there in a seat that faced me, shades on, a shotgun resting lightly across his knees. He didn't seem to think I was a threat. Still, I'd had to plead for an hour for him to unlock my handcuffs long enough for me to take off my sweatshirt. The bastard.

As the bus rattled down the dirt road, I tried to get a look at my new home. I hadn't heard of Camp Greenlake before I'd been sentenced there.

It took about ten minutes of applying the brakes before the bus finally screeched to a halt. I turned to the guard, confused. "Where's the lake?"

He only laughed.

I followed him off the bus, shouldering my black messenger bag. I got my first real look at my new home.

The camp compound was pretty small. There were a handful of run-down wooden cabins, a smattering of green canvas tents, and a whole lot of evenly spaced holes. There was no lake. I felt cheated somehow.

"Follow me," the guard ordered. I was nothing if not obedient (I had learned that about myself the hard way) so I followed him into an office attached to the back of what must have been the mess hall.

The office was a cluttered mess of paperwork and overflowing filing cabinets. It was air-conditioned, even if it was only by a shitty window unit. Thank god for small favors. A slightly overweight, middle-aged man was sitting at the desk, his feet propped up leisurely. He was smoking a cigarette and he eyed me distrustfully. I wanted to tell him that I wasn't really a bad kid, but I kept silent. No one believed me anyway.

"Sit down," the man barked, and I complied at once.

He tipped his ashes into an overflowing ashtray and took the clipboard the guard held out. "Lila Armstrong?" he asked, reading off my name.

I nodded.

"I am Mr. Sir. You will address me as such. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Mr. Sir." Quiet, obedient, unnoticeable. That's how I was going to survive the next year and a half.

He nodded, signing the papers on the clipboard and returning it to the guard. "This ain't a girl scouts camp," he said as if that explained everything. I stared at him blankly.

"If you take a bad boy -or girl- and make them dig a big hole in the hot sun, it turns them into a good boy or girl. That's our philosophy here at Camp Greenlake," Mr. Sir explained. "You'll dig a hole every day, including Saturdays and Sundays. Your hole is to be five foot deep, five foot in diameter. Your shovel will be your measuring stick. Follow me and we'll get you all set up."

I was a little sad to leave the guard behind in the air-conditioned office. He was sort of a jackass (occupational hazard, I guess), but he was the last link I had with reality. Already Benton seemed like another planet.

There weren't many people about as I followed Mr. Sir down the main avenue of camp. A few older guys, mostly in their mid to late thirties, were hanging around. There were a dozen or so guys wearing orange jumpsuits. They all stared at me with the most awkward expressions on their faces, like I was an alien or something. I ducked my head. I didn't want to draw any attention to myself.

Mr. Sir led me into what looked like a laundry room. There were neatly folded stacks of orange jumpsuits on the shelves lining the room. There was a boy standing at a rickety table, folding. He stopped mid-fold and gaped at me. Did I have fucking antenna or something?

Mr. Sir snatched my bag away from me, not bothering to ask. When people think you're a bad kid, they don't bother with manners anymore.

"Strip," Mr. Sir barked, upending my bag on the table. My things bounced everywhere: underwear, a box of tampons, the book I'd brought, my notebook.

I stared at Mr. Sir blankly. The boy behind the table looked a little less shocked and a little more eager.

When Mr. Sir realized I hadn't moved, he blew cigarette smoke in my face. "Strip," he repeated.

The obedience in me won out and I pulled off my t-shirt and jeans. I was left standing there in my underwear awkwardly. Once Mr. Sir had decided I wasn't hiding anything, he tossed me one of the orange jumpsuits and told me to get dressed.

"You'll get two sets of clothes, one for work and one for relaxation," he explained. "After three days your second set will become your work set and your work clothes will be washed."

Though the tag on the jumpsuit said it was a small, it was more like the size of a small tent. It was completely shapeless, and I had to roll up the sleeves and pant legs.

"While you're out on the lake, you'll need to watch out for scorpions, rattlesnakes, and yellow spotted lizards," Mr. Sir said, handing me back my bag. He must have decided panties and tampons weren't dangerous. He also gave me a pair of work boots and orange socks. "Ah, here's your counselor."

I looked up from where I was tying my laces; he'd come in without me noticing. He was about thirty-five and not much taller than me. He was wearing shorts and a bucket hat. That in itself was enough for me to dislike him.

"You must be Lila," he said, grinning like meeting me was the best thing that had ever happened to him. "I'm your counselor, Mr. Pendanski. I know you've done some bad things in your life, but we're here to give you a fresh start."

I didn't bother to tell him I wasn't a bad kid. He wouldn't believe me anyway.

"Follow me and I'll show you around," Pendanski said, still beaming. I took my extra set of clothes, my towel, and my canteen (which was nothing more than an empty milk jug) and followed him out of the laundry room.

It seemed there were a few more boys around now, all wearing the ugly orange jumpsuit that I now sported also. The staring was even more intense. I ducked my head, trying to hide behind a sheet of my hair.

Pendanski was pointing out the buildings as we traipsed across camp. "There's the mess hall. That's the rec hall; you can relax there after you finish digging. Those are the showers."

"What?" The showers weren't really in a building. They were more of a raised platform with a half wall around it. It was definitely lacking in privacy.

Pendanski chuckled like my concern for modesty was something amusing. "Don't worry, you won't have to use them. You've got a private shower in your cabin. Here we are." He pushed open the door to one of the cabins and we stepped inside.

It wasn't as bad as I'd expected. It had a sharply sloped roof and bare walls. There were plenty of windows covered by mesh wire screens, with canvas covers that could be raised or lowered. There were seven empty cots situated around the room.

"Where's everybody else's stuff?" I asked, confused. The most noticeable thing about the cabin was how bare it was.

Pendanski frowned at me. "What do you mean?"

"The other girls in this cabin," I said. "Where's all their stuff?"

"There are no other girls." Pendanski looked as confused as I felt.

"What?"

He squinted at me as if trying to decide if I was pulling his leg or not. "Has no one told you about Camp Greenlake, Lila?"

"No..." I mumbled, feeling this strange sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, like I was missing out on a really good joke that everyone else understood.

Pendanski smiled a little bit, and this I-feel-sorry-for-you smile was a million times worse than any overly-cheerful smile he'd given before. "Camp Greenlake is a correctional facility for boys. There are no other girls."

I blinked at him stupidly. Was this some sort of practical joke they played on new campers? A sort of hazing, perhaps? There was no way the judge would have done something so irrational.

"It's true," Pendanski said, as if reading my thoughts. "It's been a boys' camp for a decade now. The only reason the warden is accepting girls now is because the state promised more funding."

I felt a bit of relief. "So I'm not the only girl."

"No, you are," he replied bluntly. "You're the first in our trial program. More girls will be arriving, but we have no idea as to when. Until then, it's just you." He clapped his hands together as if washing them of the matter. "Well, I'll leave you to settle in then. I'll come back to get you for dinner." And he was gone.

There was a latch on the door, so I quickly locked it. It wouldn't have kept the more earnest people out, but it would be enough to deter most would-be rapists. Then I was completely alone.

I didn't know quite what to do. I wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all, but I also wanted to cry. In the end, tears won and I sat there and cried for the better part of an hour. Eventually I couldn't cry anymore, so I got up and made one of the cots, the furthest from the door, with the sheets that Mr. Sir had given me. Then, because I had no idea how long I was going to have to wait until dinner (my cereal that morning seemed like a lifetime ago), I pulled out my notebook to write a letter to my mother.

The worst thing about getting in trouble was what it did to my mom. After getting arrested the second time, I'd expected her to yell or lecture me. I was even ready for it. Instead she had just cried. She cried all the way up until my hearing, and then for another day until I left for Camp Greenlake. That was the worst.

Ever since my dad died when I was nine, it's been just my mom and me. We haven't lived in the best neighborhoods and we've never been what you'd call well-off. My dad had left us with pretty much nothing. My mom worked ridiculous hours just to make sure that we had enough to eat and a warm place to live. She thought that I was getting into trouble because she was never around; she blamed herself. The truth was that she was a great mother. The worst thing was her blaming herself.

I didn't know quite what to write in the letter. I couldn't very well tell her that I was the only girl in a camp full of delinquent boys who probably hadn't seen a girl in months; she'd only worry more. I also couldn't tell her I'd have to dig a hole (I was barely five feet tall, so I had no idea how I was going to do this). In the end I just told her about how long the bus ride was and how hot it was. I tried to make a joke about my counselor, but it sort of fell flat. I hoped my mom would appreciate it. I was just addressing and stamping the envelope when a bell began ringing somewhere.

I shoved the letter into the pocket of my jumpsuit (I'd have to wait until I found out the camp's address before I could mail it) as Pendanski knocked on my door. At least he had the decency to knock.

"Hello there, Lila!" The cheesy grin was back. "Ready for dinner?"

I shrugged, following him out of my cabin. I was starving, but I wasn't ready to face all the boys. I knew now why they had all stared at me like I was an alien before. I was an alien here.

"You'll be a part of D-tent," Pendanski explained as we walked. My cabin was further away from the mess hall, so it was a bit of a walk. "That's my group. Tents A through E are for the boys."

I couldn't help myself. "Then why am I not with group A?" He looked at me in surprise. "It just seems like it would make more sense for me to be with group A."

"I suppose it would," he conceded, and I noticed groups of boys stopping to stare as the two of us approached the mess hall. "But it's going to be a bit of a hassle to have the only girl in your group. The warden entrusted you to me because I'm the best counselor here." He sounded a little smug when he said it. I doubted the warden thought as highly of him as he thought.

Boys in orange jumpsuits seemed to part like the waters of the red sea when Pendanski and I approached, and we entered the mess hall with no trouble. I figured it would take a few hours for the shock to wear off, and then these little delinquents would come after me. And I had a problem with telling people no. This was perhaps the worst situation in the world for me.

Pendanski went through the line with me, chattering away cheerfully about nothing in particular. I accepted my portions of food - if you could call it that - wordlessly. Everything was basically the same color; I didn't think the dividers on the plate were really necessary, as I couldn't tell the difference between one item and the next.

The mess hall wasn't as crowded as I thought it would've been. There were about thirty to forty boys there, seated at five different tables. Every single one of them looked in my direction. The mess hall was deathly silent.

"You can take a seat over here," Pendanski said, his voice echoing. He led the way over to a table with seven stunned boys gaping at me. "Boys, this is Lila. From now on, she's going to be a part of D-tent. Please make her feel at home, show her the ropes." He nodded like he was pleased with himself and went over to the staff table.

There was a long, awkward moment where the boys at the table stared at me and I stared at them. I didn't know what to say. I wasn't exactly skilled when it came to interacting with boys, after all.

Finally one of the boys, a black kid with glasses, scooted over to make room for me on the bench. "Have a seat," he said, and it was like the spell was broken. Tentatively people began talking again, still staring at me. There were a few scrapes of forks on plates as they began eating again.

"Thanks," I mumbled, squeezing myself onto the end of the bench and setting my tray down. I felt my cheeks burning. I did not like to be in the spotlight, and I don't think I could've gotten any more attention if I'd tried.

The boys at my table were still staring, not eating. It must have been a really long time since they'd seen a girl, because I was nothing spectacular to look at.

I pushed my food around on my plate, pondering if I was hungry enough to try it. When I looked up, they were still staring. "What?" I said defensively.

"You do know that you're the only girl here, right?" one of them asked. He was very tall, easily a full head or more taller than me. He had frizzy blonde hair that looked like it had never seen a hairbrush.

I sighed, hunching my shoulders in defeat. "Yeah, they said I was part of some sort of trial program or something. They'll get more government funding if the camp is co-ed, so..." Everyone around me was still staring. Even the counselors were staring.

"Well, I guess the least I can do is officially introduce you to D tent," the black guy with the glasses grinned, extending a friendly, if awkward (as he was sitting very close on my right), hand. "I'm X-ray. These are Armpit, Squid, ZigZag, Magnet, Barf Bag, and Zero." I matched each face with the name, thinking that I would never remember. I lingered a bit too long on the one named Squid, and I had to look away quickly.

"I'm Lila," I mumbled, shaking his proffered hand only briefly. "Sorry, my name seems tame compared to yours."

The hispanic boy, the one with the black bandana around his head - I think his name was Magnet - grinned. "Don't worry, chica. You'll get a nickname soon enough."

"Only if you're cool enough," Armpit added with a grin.

I didn't answer. I didn't really care about getting a nickname. In fact, I'd rather just be able to dig my holes and eat my meals without having to talk to anyone at all, but I guess that was asking too much.

One of them laughed at the expression on my face, and I glanced up at him. It was Squid. He was tall and dark-haired, with a surprising sprinkling of freckles and bushy dark eyebrows. I found myself blushing so I quickly looked back down at my tray, my heart racing. It had been years since I had found anyone attractive, and it was just my luck that the first time in forever that I did, it was at a correctional facility for juvenile delinquents. Go figure.

"So where are you staying?" ZigZag asked as everyone finally resumed eating. "With the warden? I'm guessing you're not living in our tent."

I looked down at my tray nervously, pushing everything together. It looked like I had eaten but I hadn't taken a single bite. "Ah, no. I'm in a cabin by myself until more girls get here. And there's a lock on the door, too," I added quickly, glancing around fiercely as if daring anyone to try anything.

The boys all laughed at me, exchanging glances. "You do realize where you are, right?" Armpit asked archly. "You're in the middle of the desert, miles away from any civilization, with a bunch of horny delinquents who haven't seen a girl in months."

I sighed heavily. I was only five foot two and barely over a hundred pounds. I couldn't stop anyone from doing anything even if I didn't have issues refusing people. "Yeah, I know."

"I can teach you some defensive moves if you want," Squid offered, taking a long swig of water from his tin cup. "It's not that difficult if you know what to do, even if you're smaller than your attacker."

I felt the blush creeping back up into my cheeks. "Y-yeah. That sounds good. Thanks." I chanced a glance at him, but he wasn't looking at me. Everyone in the entire room was staring except him.

Oh well. If he was going to be giving me private self-defense lessons, I'd at least have plenty of opportunity to ogle him. Maybe he'd even take his shirt off.

Sort of a long first chapter. I hope you all enjoyed and please review. Thanks!