Oh, Sinners Chapter 1: and I'm feelin' good, a holes fanfic

Disclaimer: I don't own Holes, or anything associated with it. That honor belongs to Louis Sachar. The title of the story is taken from the song "Down to the Valley" by Doc Watson.

Notes: Okay, so. Grammar and spelling will be a bit off in dialog. I'm following the accents used in the movie mainly Mr. Sir's Texan accent and the slang used by the campers, so any dialog misspellings are intentional. Anything other than that is my mistake. Things will be taken from both the book and the movie, like the length of shower time four minutes vs. one and a half minutes. Of course, this could be considered AU, but since it takes place about seven months before the arrival of Stanley, this very well could have happened. So go with me here, okay?

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Chapter One: and I'm feelin' good.

"Birds flyin' high; you know how I feel.
Sun in the sky; you know how I feel.
Breeze driftin' on by; you know how I feel.
It's a new dawn, it's a new day, it's a new life for me.
And I'm feelin'...good."
-Michael Bublé "Feeling Good"

"Has the jury reached a verdict?"

"We have, Your Honor." The stout black woman blinked at the judge over her thick glasses. She held a folded piece of paper in her hand.

"Will the defendant please rise?"

I did so, shaking slightly. My heart beat fast, and I drummed my fingers on the table in front of me.

"We, the jury, find the defendant, Charlotte Rose Kincaide, guilty of second degree murder."

My heart stopped. "What?"

"The defendant will remain silent," the judge snapped, glaring at me. I blinked, lowering my eyes. Oh my God. "Now, you have two choices here, Ms. Kincaide. You may either go to jail--"

"I'm not going to jail," I interrupted, almost desperately. "I didn't even kill the guy!"

"Quiet," the judge growled, scowling at me. She ruffled a few papers in front of her and looked at me again. "It seems they have another opening at Camp Green Lake, in Texas."

My jaw dropped. "Texas?"

The judge glared at me coldly. I shut my mouth. "Although it seems to be predominately male oriented," she continued, "I'm sure they can accommodate one such as yourself. So," she cocked her head, still staring at me. "What will it be?"

"I sure as hell ain't going to jail, Your Honor," I mumbled.

"Very well, then. Twenty seven months, Camp Green Lake."

My head rested on the window, banging against it every time the bus went over a bump. I had seen nothing but a vast expanse of nothingness for the past four hours. Nothing but sand. Sand sand sand.

I sighed, pushing a piece of frizzy brown hair behind my ear. Even though it was up in a high bun atop my head, strands were sticking to my forehead and the back of my neck. The handcuffs were giving me bruises around my wrists. I closed my eyes, tilting my head forward against the seat in front of me. I could feel myself drifting off as the bus finally began to slow down and turn.

"C'mon. We're here." I was jostled awake, hoisted to my feat and hauled down the small aisle by a fat guard in aviator sunglasses. I stepped off the stifling hot school bus, blinking in the harsh sun. My bright green eyes looked around. Sand...and boys. I was surrounded by sand and boys.

Oh, and holes. Lots and lots of holes.

Great. Just great.

"Yer name Charlotte?"

I started, whipping around and coming face to face with a stereotypical Texan- tight jeans, flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, gun holster and a fully-loaded gun, complete with boots and topped off with a black cowboy hat. He even had a tattoo of a rattlesnake on his lower right forearm.

Boy, someone sure got lost on the way to the O.K. Corral, I thought, rocking back on my heels. "Yeah. That's me." I paused. "I go by Charlie, though."

The man frowned at me, and spat onto the dusty ground. "C'mon, follow me," he groused. He turned and stomped away, little clouds of dust rising under his boots. I sighed a little, slung my backpack over my shoulder, picked up my suitcase and followed.

The heat was almost unbearable. I was relieved, then, when I was led into a small, air conditioned cabin. A desk sat at the head of the room, and on it sat the man, some papers, a can of Sprite, and a carton of ten packs of cigarettes. Somewhere between the period of time it took me to follow this man into the building, he had lit a cigarette and was smoking it lazily. I chewed my lip, my fingers itching for a smoke.

"Charlie, was it?" I nodded, eyeing the carton of cigarettes. "Drop yer bag by the door. I'll have someone pick it up for ya, 'n take it to your tent." He paused, and then spoke. "My name is Mr. Sir. You will always address me as such. 'Nderstand?"

I blinked at him. Mr. Sir? What kind of a name is that "Yes, Mr. Sir," I muttered. I blew some of my hair out of my face and crossed my arms.

"This ain't a Girl Scout camp," he said, pointing his cigarette at me.

"I can see that, Mr. Sir." Mr. Sir scowled at me, then straightened and went to the door, leaning out.

"HEY YOO!" he suddenly hollered, pointing out the door to someone who must have been standing right outside. I jumped nearly a foot in the air, clutching my heart.

"Jesus," I mumbled, turning my head to look at who Mr. Sir had yelled at. A pause.

"Who, me?" Another man's voice.

"Yeah, you. Zigzag. Git over here." Mr. Sir barked, waving someone inside. This someone- Zigzag, apparently- was nearly six-foot-two with sandy blonde hair sticking out in every direction, and wild, bright blue eyes. He towered nearly four inches over Mr. Sir, but I could tell Zigzag was visibly apprehensive of him.

"Take Miss Kincaide's bag to D-Tent, will ya?" Mr. Sir took another drag of his cigarette as Zigzag, after giving me a wary once-over with his eyes, effortlessly picked up my suitcase and left. I stared after him as Mr. Sir put his cigarette out, took a drink from his can of soda, and stood, motioning for me to do the same. I straightened and followed him back outside.

"Now, here at Camp Green Lake, we run things a bit diff'rently than the regular joo-vee-nile camp," he said in his Texan drawl, leading me across the sandy courtyard of the camp.

"What do you mean?" I began to ask, but he waved me off.

"I'm gettin' there. Now, every day yer to dig a hole- five feet deep 'n five feet wide. Use yer shovel to measure. C'mon." We reached another cabin, one that wasn't much different than Mr. Sir's office. A desk sat at the head of the room, and behind the desk sat another boy, looking rather bored. Of course, as soon as Mr. Sir entered the room, the boy straightened up an greeted Mr. Sir with a forced smile. Mr. Sir just scowled.

Shelves upon shelves lined the walls of the tiny room, packed with hideous orange jumpsuits, boots of all sizes, and what seemed like hundreds of socks, gloves and hats. The hats were the same color as the jumpsuits- a screaming orange. They made my eyes hurt.

Mr. Sir handed me a pair of boots of two different sizes, three pairs of rather yellow socks, a hat, an empty plastic jug tied to a piece of cloth, and two orange jumpsuits. He explained the laundry system in a bored voice "We wash yer clothes e'ry three days. Wear one set to dig 'n one set to relax in. After three days, yer work clothes are washed 'n yer relaxation clothes become yer work clothes. Got that?", and led me once again out into the sun.

"See any fences, Kincaide?"

I looked at him. "Pardon?"

"Fences, I said. D'you see any?"

I shook my head.

"Watchtowers? Guard dogs? Poh-leece men?"

I shook my head again.

"You wanna run away?"

I frowned. "Sir?"

He motioned to the wide expanse of nothingness lying beyond the camp. Nothing but sand and holes. "Go ahead, run. I ain't a-stoppin' ya."

Is this some kind of a joke?

"Ain't no one runs away from Camp Green Lake. Know why?" I shook my head. Mr. Sir grinned, showing yellowed teeth. "'Cuz we got the only water for hundreds o' miles. You wanna run? You'll be dead in three days. Buzzard food."

I nodded. "Fantastic."

Mr. Sir chuckled. "Buzzards are all fine 'n dandy. It's the yella-spotted lizards you wanna watch out for."

"The what?"

Mr. Sir just chucked again. "All yoos gotta do is stay far away from 'em. You see one, ya run as fast as ya can in th' opposite direction. Don't be lookin' back, or you will die."

My breath hitched, and my eyes traveled down to his gun. "Is that what that is for?" I asked, motioning to it.

He smirked, tipping his hat at me. "Yer sharp, Kincaide."

I shrugged. "A gun's not that hard to notice, Mr. Sir."

Mr. Sir nodded distractedly, looking somewhere over my shoulder. "Hey, Pendanski! Come meet your new camper!"

I turned around, bewildered, and saw yet another man, looking nearly the opposite of Mr. Sir, jogging towards us. He was about my height five-feet-five inches, wearing a button-up shirt, shorts that went down to his knees, and sneakers with the socks pulled up, nearly to the hem of his shorts. He stopped before Mr. Sir, a bit out of breath.

"You must be Charlotte Kincaide!" he exclaimed. "Welcome to Camp Green Lake. I'm Dr. Pendanski, your counselor. You'll be staying in D-tent." He started off towards a cluster of tents, waving for me to follow.

"What's the D stand for?" I asked, eyeing this man warily.

"I'm glad you asked, Ms. Kincaide."

"Charlie," I corrected automatically.

"Charlie." Pendanski repeated, nodding slightly. "The D stands for diligence. Now, there's the mess hall, the rec room, and the showers," he said, pointing to each one. "There's only two temperatures- cold, and colder, and the showers are only four minutes long, so I suggest you do whatever girls do rather quickly." He eyed me pointedly. "Wakeup is promptly at 4:30, and we head out at five."

"In the morning?"

Pendanski stared at me. "Of course. Now, over there," he pointed to a cabin between two large oak trees, "is the Warden's cabin. There's only one real rule at Camp Green Lake: do not upset the Warden."

I opened my mouth to ask who the Warden was, but was cut off.

"Hey, Mom! Who's the chick?"

Dr. Pendanski stopped and turned around. Three boys were making their way over towards us: one was black, with glasses so dirty I was amazed he could see at all, one was white, with his hat on backwards and a toothpick hanging out of the corner of his mouth, and one was Hispanic, carrying a shovel over one shoulder.

"Rex. Alan. José. Meet your new tent-mate, Charlie."

"My name, for the billionth damn time, ain't Rex. It's X-Ray." X-Ray eyed me for a moment, and then stepped forward and extended his hand. I shook it. "I'm X-Ray. That's Squid, and that's Magnet." X-Ray's hand was impossibly callused. It felt like I was shaking hands with a brillo pad. He smiled, showing white teeth. "Well, aren't you a sight for sore eyes? I ain't seen a girl for months."

I nodded. Squid chuckled, the toothpick bobbing in his mouth. "She don't talk much, does she?"

"I'm sure she talks plenty. She just don't got anything to say yet, right chica?" Magnet asked, smiling at me. I shrugged. The three boys laughed.

"Okay, now," Pendanski interrupted. "Rex, it's your job to make sure Charlie feels welcome around Camp Green Lake. Can I count on you to do that?"

"Sure thing, Mom. C'mon, girl," X-Ray said, motioning to the tent with his head. What am I, a dog? "Let's go inside 'n meet everyone else. See ya, Mom." With a last, almost helpless look to Pendanski, I followed the three boys into the tent.

The tent, if possible, was even hotter than it was outside, despite being out of the sun. Seven cots, two of which were occupied by boys looking to be around my age, were spaced around the tent. Rex, Alan and José- or X-Ray, Squid and Magnet, I suppose- went to their respective cots and flopped down. The other two boys didn't seem to notice me just yet, so I stood there. I recognized one of them as Zigzag, the one who took my bag to D-Tent. I caught his eye and offered a small smile, but he merely turned his head to stare at the floor.

"Don't mind him," X-Ray said. "He hasn't said much since he got here about two months ago. He's crazy."

"Yeah, he has... what was it called?" Squid was smiling. "Oh yeah, acute paranoia. He hears voices. Says it was the voices that made him steal the gun." I frowned. Zigzag didn't even seem to hear him.

Why does Zigzag look so familiar?

"Your cot's right there," Squid said, pointing to the cot across from his. I could see my suitcase poking out from under it. "Right next to mine." He smiled devilishly. I felt my stomach drop a little.

"Thanks," I said quietly, slipping my backpack off my shoulder and dropping down onto the musty sheets. I unzipped my bag and began unpacking my toothbrush, toothpaste, a tattered notebook, and a box of tampons into the crate beside my cot, leaving my clothes in my suitcase.

"Charlie, was it?" I looked up as X-Ray spoke.

"Yeah," I croaked, my throat dry.

He laughed. "Thirsty, Charlie?" I nodded.

"Get used to it," Zigzag said suddenly, looking straight into my eyes. "You're gonna be thirsty for an awfully long time."