Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed; you people keep me writing! (I can't reply to everybody, so I'll just respond to the people who have questions.

Kiana Ravens – Hehe, don't worry, no offense taken. Hmmm, beta sounds like a good idea actually. I'll have to think about it, see I don't usually give out my e-mail. Sorry, information about things like Emily is strictly forbidden, muahahaha:) Sorry, moment of hyper-activity, I had a lot of sugar this morning.

By the way, I just wanted to get this cleared up: This story is parallel to Holes. The things that happen in Holes will also happen in this fic, but I will not, in any way, change the original story. Things with D-Tent will remain the same, but some events will occur that do not show up in the book or movie. But those events will not tamper with the original. I like the book and movie just fine the way that they are.

Well, on with the show. I don't own D-Tent, the Warden, Mr. Sir, or Camp Green Lake. I do own C-Tent and all of it's members, bla bla bla, you know the drill. Aqui estan capitulo tres! (Here is chapter three)

"Hoho, wait'll you see what she's gonna do to ya, kid! The real Tyran' of Camp Lake Green's gonna beat you bad!"

Camp Lake Green? Damn, what the hell's wrong with this idiot?

"The Warden says tha' she caught you sneakin' into her cabin last night," Wasp drawled gleefully. We had just arrived back at the camp's base. He was dragging me by my collar, obviously quite proud of himself for taking me in. Bumble just looooooooooves bringing kids to the Warden.

I kept my mouth shut, impatiently waiting for my mom's newest story. I've got to admit, she's pretty imaginative and I like hearing her excuses. You know the phrase 'digging to build character'? That's one of my mother's many twisted ideas.

"She says she caught you an' one of your little delinquen' friends who she didn' see, stealin' one o' her bras, an' were plannin' on hanging it up on the flag post fer all the campers ta see!" Bumble announced, speaking in a slow whisper for dramatic effect.

I snorted so loud that I could have made a rattlesnake jump. I literally had to bite my tongue until it bled to keep from laughing.

Wasp gave me a murderous look. "Ho, ya think that's funny, do ya?" he barked. When I didn't answer, he stared me straight in the eye, causing me to step back a bit. I'm a complete coward.

"Well, let's see 'ow ard yer laughin' when ya come out o' that door with one nostril an' a bleedin' eye!"

With that, Bumble threw me onto the ground, right in front of my mother's doorstep, and left with mirthless laughter.

I got up hastily and rolled my eyes. Staring at the door in front of me, I took a deep breath and knocked on the door; bracing myself for whatever my mom had to tell me. Three knocks, with two seconds in between each. And then, without a warning, the woman I knew as my mother opened the door. She glanced around quickly, checking to make sure that no one was watching and then put her hand on my back, pushing me inside. "Get in," she whispered gruffly.

My mother is a tall, pretty woman, and like me has red hair and freckles. That's as far as the resemblance goes. Her eyes are a sharp blue, and mine are a weird kind of light sand brown, almost like they match the dirt that covers the camp. I was born with my dad's natural tan under my freckles (you know, the kind of tan that you're born with and never gets any darker), but my mom's skin is your typical fair. She's got a classical nose, mine's a bit small, and obviously it'll take a while for me to get up to her height. But probably what I would say is the biggest difference is the fact that we each have a different overall expression in our faces. Tramp once told me that at first glance, I would come off as observant and cautious, but trustworthy. But looking at my mother now, she's got a completely different look to her face. Her blue eyes are sharp and quick and suspicious, and her mouth is always pressed into either a thin, hard line, or a seductive smile. If it weren't for the hair, you probably wouldn't even think that my mother and I were distant relatives.

She walked over to the refrigerator on the other side of the little table right across from me. My mom's house is small and has the classical feel of a lakehouse, with screen windows and old fashioned furniture.

"Here, drink this," she said suddenly. My mother opened the refrigerator door and handed me a glass of fresh water. I took it from her and sipped it, savoring the sweet taste of purified water. (She keeps one of those Brita thingys.) My mother poured a glass for herself and took a large gulp. Unlike me, she drank the filtered water every day, and had no reason to drink it slowly.

When I was finished, I noticed that my mom was searching through a stack of papers on the wooden table. Without even looking at me, she began to speak.

"We're having that vacancy in D-Tent filled. A new boy will be coming tomorrow." she said.

I definitely a bit surprised. My neck jerked up from my glass, which I had been gazing intently at. "We are?"

She nodded, her eyes still on the papers, not even bothering to look at me. "Yes. His name is...Yelnats. Stanley Yelnats."

"What's he in for?" I asked curiously. Something about his name sounded familiar, like I had heard about it in some history class. But I never paid attention, and I've got a lousy memory for stuff like that.

My mother's sharp blue optics scanned the paper she was holding. "Apparently he robbed a pair of shoes from a homeless shelter."

"That's it?" I asked, stunned. That was probably the most minimal crime I'd ever heard of at Green Lake.

"No. The shoes belonged to Clyde Livingston."

I spat out the water in my mouth and nearly dropped my glass. I didn't see that coming.

"The Clyde Livingston?"

My mother nodded shortly.

I blinked with wide eyes. Whoa. A kid who somehow nabbed my hero's shoes, here at camp. I used to be a complete baseball nut at home; it was the one sport I could actually play well. I almost asked how this Stanley kid got away with the crime, but I kept my mouth shut when I remembered who I was talking to.

Her head was still down, her eyes skimming over the papers. Knowing that she wouldn't do me the courtesy of glancing at me, I watched her intently, with a strange feeling. You know, like when you've got something nagging you at the back of your mind, but it's just so far off in your memory that you can barely hear it? It seemed to be something about--

"Mom," I said suddenly. "Didn't you and Dad see that game where Livingston hit four triples? You know, when I was little?"

When I said those words, she stopped looking at the papers, but kept her eyes down. She pressed her lips together tightly, and I knew that I had touched a nerve. I really didn't mean to, I was surprised to even hear those words exit my mouth.

My mom's attitude is always the same around me; clipped and business-like. Sometimes I wonder if she even remembers that she has a son. Around me, she keeps her sentences short and to-the-point. When I first came here, all I wanted was a mother. I got an employer instead.

But this time was different. For one thing, I called her mom. Normally when I have to address her, I call her "ma'am", or something like that. I try to speak to her as little as possible, just to avoid naming her. Another thing, I asked her about the past. The one thing that my mother is truly afraid of.

Her eyes were set on the table in front of her, I could tell she was determined not to look at me. Her hands were shaking ever so slightly, but I could still see them tremble. Her face was filled with so many emotions at once; pain, fury, shock, hope; yet somehow it remained completely straight. But I could feel them radiating off of her, and it scared me. It always scares me.

Still refusing to look at me, she spoke, her voice becoming monotone, but trembling ferociously. "It's been long enough," she said, her tone a bit louder. "Get back out to your hole, your councilor will be suspicious."

Wasp? Huh, he'll just think you're giving me an extra beating. That's what I thought, but I didn't say it. I couldn't have said anything, due to the fact that I had temporarily lost my voice. I hate seeing my mother like this. She may not treat me like a son, and she may not care about me, but I love her. All I've ever wanted was my dad back, and my mom to go home to him. But that's nothing more than a dream. I'll never have a real family.

I had half a mind to open my mouth and say everything in my head, but I didn't have the guts. So instead, I turned around, feeling morbid and lost.

She was quiet, until she suddenly let out her voice. "By the way," she said, still shaky, but back to the business tone. "You got a letter from that girl."

Immediately my depression vanished. Instead, I felt jumpy and excited. It had been two weeks since I last heard from Emily. (Not surprising, the mail doesn't get here all too quick)

I spun around, trying to contain my happiness. "She did? Where is it?"

My mom's eyes were clouded over, as if she had something else on her mind. Wordlessly she handed me a small but stuffed envelope, the address written in Emily's messy scrawl.

I sped out of the room, ripping open the envelope. Damn, did she ever write alot. Emily had stuffed a whole three pages into the envelope. Then again, she does have big handwriting.

Hey Jeryl!

God, Montana is boring as hell without you here. Get this: Angelina has no one to trip up for with you gone. Insted, she's taken to starring at your picture in her locker. I swear, that girl has problems. (No ofense or anything...hehehe...)

We are experiencing just a bit too much rain. Okay, when I say 'a bit too much' I mean that the Peck Dam had problems keeping in all the water. Even dride up Glasgow is getting some heavy rain. The school had a mud fight yesterday, and Lerman had a fit. Her hair was dripping with dirt by the time we were throgh with her. Oh, you should have been there. But don't worry; that was the only intresting event that's happened recently.

At the moment I am putting of my history homework. I'm completely lost without your tutoring. Who the hell is Samuel Jackson again? HELP. ME. OUT. Phil offered to help me with my studyng, and I had no choice but to say yes to him. Don't wory though, Jer. Your un-replaceble (is that a word?).

I smiled at Emily's spelling mistakes. She was never any good at subjects like Science, Grammar, Algebra, or History. I suck at the first three too, but I could help her with History without a problem. All of our teachers thought she was dumb. She's not dumb. She just prefers theory to fact. I remember when I told her that I was going to move. She was sad, and then she looked at my eyes. I remember her exact words.

"You know, Jeryl, I think you're gonna be fine in Texas."

"Why?" I had asked, stunned.

"I'm not sure...I guess it's because your eyes are the color of sand. If you're gonna live in the desert, then it's almost like your eyes match where you're going...like it's your destiny."

I remember just staring at her, shell-shocked. She went on.

"If your eyes could tell the future, then you must be going to Texas for a reason. Somebody must need you down there. I think you're gonna be fine."

Those words still stick with me. I remember wondering if she was right. I wondered if there really was someone who needed me. I still think about that.

There was more to the letter, and as I read it, I could almost feel Emily's intense emotions that she had while writing it.

Ok, Jeryl, there is something I need to talk to you about. I know that your not being completly honest with me about what goes on in Texas. Do you and your mom get along okay? Have you made new freinds? Is school going well?

I'm not sure why you don't want to tell me the truth (and yes, I can tell that your lyng to me. I know you better than to beleve you), but I just want to let you know that it's ok. Its entirly your desision whether you want to tell me or not. I just hope your ok, and I want you to know also that I care about you. I miss you a hole lot.

I was almost to the C-Tent dig site when I read the last bit of the letter. Her handwriting was shaky in this part, and I could feel her fear as I read it.

I went to see your dad today. He's no better, no worse. I'm not gonna lye to you Jer; I dont think theres much of a chance of him waking up. The doctors wont say anything; I dont think they want to see the truth.

Jeryl, I know that if he could, your dad woud miss you so much. I know that I do.

Love always,

Emily