Is anyone actually reading this?

I don't own Holes.

The next morning the wake-up trumpet went off way too early. It was still dark out, Derrick noticed. He made his way to the mess hall with the other boys and sat down next to them.

"What time is it?" he asked drowsily.

"4:30," Armpit said.

Derrick gazed sleepily around at the other D Tent boys. They all seemed to be relatively awake, and not at all mad that they had to be up this early, aside from a few grumbles. They all looked like they understood why they were up in the middle of the night. Derrick had also noticed that they had gotten up relatively quickly for the early hour.

"And why are we up at 4:30?"

"Coolest part of the day," Zigzag explained. "We get up later, we're diggin' in the hottest part of the day. Didn't we tell you that?"

Derrick yawned and shook his head. They most certainly did not tell him that. Otherwise he would've tried harder to get to sleep last night.

"So, Derrick," X-Ray said. "What are you here for?"

"What?"

"What did you do?"

"Oh. I—uh—I was framed—"

"That's what they all say," Squid said, laughing.

"My friend wanted to rob a house and mad me come along and then when the police came, he blamed everything on me. Judge sent me here." Derrick went back to eating his soggy cereal, not looking at any of the other boys.

"How long are you in for?" Magnet asked.

"A year and a half," Derrick answered. He would probably be here longer than all the other boys, since they knew each other well and had no doubt been here for a while.

Magnet whistled. "I got a year and a half for stealing a pedigree puppy from a show. And you get a year and a half for breaking into a house?"

Derrick shrugged. "Turns out it was Clyde Livingston's house."

The other boys started laughing.

"Yeah right," Magnet said. "What is it with people trying to rob Clyde Livingston these days?"

"I didn't know that it was his house," Derrick said defensively. "I was just there. Who else stole from Clyde Livingston?"

"Caveman," Squid said, chewing his cereal loudly. "He stole some shoes."

And that was when Derrick knew that the Caveman was Stanley. Stanley had gotten arrested for stealing the shoes, but Derrick told the legal people at his trial that it wasn't possible that Stanley had taken the shoes since they were stolen at 3:15 and he had been fishing his notebook out of the toilet at 3:20. They had seemed pretty interested in that information. And that made Derrick feel bad—they had found out that Stanley was innocent, only to find out that he had run away from the camp.

"Five feet in diameter, five feet deep. Your shovel is your measuring stick," Mr. Sir said, scraping a spot on the ground where Derrick was supposed to dig. "Once you're done you get the rest of the day off." Mr. Sir stalked away without saying anything more.

Derrick looked at the ground. It seemed pretty solid.

It was already hot out, despite the lack of sunlight. Derrick supposed that he should make the most of the darkness while he could, before the sun came up.

He jammed the shovel into the ground. It didn't even make a mark.

He tried again on a crack in the crusty dirt, and the tip of the shovel made it a few inches in. He carefully turned the shovel up, bringing a small pile of earth with it. Derrick smiled. One tiny bit closer to the final thing.

He continued digging for years, it seemed like, though it couldn't've been too long: the water truck hadn't come yet, and he'd been told it came every few hours.

He shook his canteen. There was about an inch of warm water in the bottom, which he was saving for later. He wanted to ration his small amount of hydration.

His hole was a couple feet deep in the middle, but not at the sides. His piles were a lot bigger—he didn't really know how all that dirt could've fit in his meager hole. Pushing one of the piles out of the way, he plowed on, not trying to notice but failing to ignore the other boys' larger holes and piles.

His hands were hurting. After holding the shovel for hours, he had formed blisters and sensitive spots, but he didn't want to complain. He could hear Mr. Sir's voice in his head: "This ain't the girl scouts."

Derrick ignored the pain in his hands and kept going, only taking a small break when the water truck pulled up. The other boys had an order for the water truck, he saw. X-Ray must've been the leader, since he was one of the last ones to get there, but still got the front place in line. Derrick went to the back, behind Twitch.

Mr. Pendanski was driving the truck. Derrick noticed that he took the key out of the ignition before he got out and put it in his pocket. Derrick snorted; would people really try to steal the truck? Were they really that paranoid?

"How's the first hole going?" Mr. Pendanski asked, taking Derrick's canteen.

Derrick shrugged. "Eh."

"First hole's the hardest, man," Magnet said, slapping him on the back.

Derrick looked at the other boys as Mr. Pendanski was filling his canteen. They all were acting perfectly chipper, even though they had been digging for as long that day as Derrick had. He tried not to look at their holes.

"Here." Mr. Pendanski handed Derrick his canteen.

"Thanks."

He went back to his hole and started digging. He would be the last one out there, and he didn't want to take too long. Everyone else was fast enough as it was.

He dug in silence, only saying anything when the water truck came around again and again, once with lunch. If you could call it that.

One by one, the rest of the boys climbed out of their holes, spat, and walked back to the camp. Derrick kept digging. After the last of his tentmates, Magnet, had gone back to camp, Derrick kept digging.

How long could the day go on?

Finally, his hole was somewhat finished. He laid his shovel on the bottom, spinning it in a circle and scraping off dirt clods. His hole was more ovalish instead of circular, but hey. He could lay the shovel on the bottom and it was five feet deep. It worked.

He sucked up the last of his saliva and spat in his hole, then began the long walk to the showers.

"Come join our circle, Derrick," Mr. Pendanski said as Derrick entered the tent. He could see that all the rest of the D Tent boys were seated in a circle, along with Mr. Pendanski. Derrick sat down in between Armpit and Squid, leaving his stuff in his crate.

"We're talking about what we're going to do when we leave Camp Green Lake," Mr. Pendanski said.

"Aww, again?" Zigzag asked. "We just did this with the Caveman and Zero. Remember, 'I like to dig holes'?"

Derrick had no idea what he meant.

"We didn't get through everyone when we did it then, and we have Derrick now." Mr. Pendanski leaned back. "Ricky, what are you going to do when you leave camp?"

Zigzag shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe I'll sing a song and be the next star."

The other boys snorted.

"They want people without criminal records, Zig. And hair that can be tamed," Squid said, hitting Zigzag on the back. "And probably people that can sing, too."

"I can sing," Zigzag said. "You've just never heard me."

There was a bit of an awkward silence, where they were waiting for either someone to speak up or Zigzag to sing. Neither happened.

"Alright, Derrick," Mr. Pendanski said, breaking the silence. Derrick jumped. "What do you want to do?"

"I just got here," Derrick pointed out. He had just dug his first hole, and had hundreds to go. He didn't want to think about when he got out yet. It wouldn't be for eighteen months.

"But these things can go quickly if you don't pay attention. Keep thinking that you won't get out for forever and when you do get out you won't have any plans. So what do you like?"

Derrick was silent. What did he like? He didn't really know. He was still young, and he had no idea what he wanted to do with his life. When he got out, he would go back to school, because he wouldn't be smarter than the average high school sophomore. He would probably be held back, yeah, but after high school, he had no idea what he wanted to study in college and what kind of job he wanted. Everything that he liked seemed so childish and unimportant in the real world. Where does bullying get you in the real world?

"I'm not sure what I like that could be useful in getting a job. I mean, I like video games and sports—"

"Video games and sports? You could be some kind of professional player like Clyde Livingston, or you could be one of the guys that designs and tests the video games," Mr. Pendanski suggested. "Anything else you got, boys?"

"You could be a coach of some sort," Armpit said.

"Computer geek," Squid offered.

"A professional video game tester that does nothing else but that," Twitch provided.

"Any of those sound good?"

Derrick shrugged. "I don't know."

There was another silence.

"Well, boys," Mr. Pendanski said, clapping his hands, "time for bed. 4:30 will come bright and early and you have a long day of digging before you." He left the tent.

"Yeah right, bright and early," Armpit said, laughing. Derrick silently chuckled a bit too—4:30 was definitely early, but there was nothing bright about it except for the lights that shined in their faces at breakfast.

Derrick curled up on his bed and fell asleep immediately, his sore muscles and aching blisters not slowing the sleep at all. The last coherent thought he had that night was how much they were going to hurt in the morning.

And hurt they did. He ached so bad the next morning that he just wanted to crawl into one of the holes, even if there were yellow-spotted lizards in it, and sleep for another few hours. But he didn't, choosing instead to grab his shovel and jam it into the ground, knowing that the longer he waited the longer he would be out there, breaking his back.

"Second hole's the hardest," Magnet said, walking back from the water truck later that day. Some of the dirt from the piles outside Derrick's hole shifted and a little of the sandy soil fell back into it. Derrick didn't know if Magnet did that on purpose or not. But if he did, one thing was for certain—they knew how to hit you where it hurt at Camp Green Lake.

Yeah...review?

Rynni