Disclaimer: None of the original characters or ideas from Holes are mine. Morgan T Lee (Montana) and Jose' 'Santa' Cruz belong to Matthew Reilly. However, Leticia Von Barron and her friends and family are all characters from my own slightly demented brain. The Oompa Loompas' belong to Roald Dahl.

This is my first attempt at a proper fanfiction. Constructive criticism will be loved.

Friday 10th November, 4:03PM

I am sitting in a big bus. A big yellow bus, I might add. It's not a nice double Decker bus like back home in England, It is an ugly, horrible, smelly bus. That's the end of my bus rant. I suppose I'd better write about myself incase I ever decide to sell this diary. If I ever catch...Him. My name is Leticia Von Barron. I was born and raised in Surrey, a place in England. Oh yeah, and I'm dressed up as a boy. Just before you go on, I am not a transvestite, or anything like that. You see, I used to be a normal girl, until two months ago. Yes, two months ago, when my dad, was arrested for a felony that he did not commit, and my mother and sister were kidnapped by an evil man. A man whose name currently escapes me. Not to mention that my brother is nowhere to be found. He was declared a missing person five days ago. And to think, the only reason I know that is because I read the newspaper in Hartford Hall.

I shoved my pen bag into my rucksack and glanced over my work. The writing was bumpy, uneven and almost resembled a scribble. It was all the stupid bloody bus drivers fault. He probably got his licence from a pub...Like my Uncle Barry. The grumpy man sitting by the door kept on giving each one of us a look of loathing, in between falling asleep and picking his nose(I swear, I've seen him do it). I turned my head slightly to look at the holes again. looking at holes is not fun. And neither is dressing up like a full on boy, especially if you're a twelve year old girl who is starting to...grow. You know what I mean.

It was boiling hot, my palms were sweaty and I had an immense headache. This was probably due to the fact that the idiot behind me was poking my head with a sharp object. Oh yes, I think I forgot to mention that I was travelling with the goons from Hartford Hall in England. Hartford Hall is a crumbly old building in south east England. Or was a crumbly old building in south east England. It was demolished a few days ago, after the evil blood sucking monsters (AKA The councillors)shipped us off to this Camp Green Lake. And so far, I see no lake. Ha! False advertising! The owner of this camp shall go jail! You hear me, you villain! Jail! Oh god, where are my pills. My thoughts were suddenly interrupted with a bang! My head hit the window with medium force, as did many others, because I could hear them cursing. What was happening? A twister? An earthquake? Dozens of young juvenile delinquents trying to tip us over? No. It was just the bus driver stopping the vehicle.

Evil Mr.Nosepicker thrust open the doors and began shoving us out. Well he tried. When he came to Mairie MacDonald she nearly broke his neck. She obviously didn't care about the rifle hanging from his belt. After that we got out by ourselves. The heat was killing me! England isn't exactly the warmest place on earth, and being dressed in my old Hartford Hall uniform didn't help. Long pants, white shirts and blazers didn't belong in the same context as Camp Green Lake(Which doesn't appear to have a lake). After bumping into numerous ex-Hartforders, and almost being concussed by a certain Mairie MacDonald, I decided to watch where I was going. We were being herded to a small shack at the edge of what seemed to be a group of brand new buildings. In fact, this shack was the only old building in the area. So along we trotted, to the rotting old shack. So make a long story short, the first five people went in, in alphabetical order. After about half an hour they came out again, each with a tiny slip of paper in their damp hands. A piece of tumbleweed rolled over the floor, and a door slammed. That was unfortunate, because I was practising being macho. It's hard to breathe when you have a bandana around the bottom half of your face to cover up your feminini-nini...Whatever. A strange man in a pink shirt sauntered out through the doorway, and stood on a balcony. He stepped into the light and for a split second we saw his face. The face of impending doom.

Once again, he stepped forward and the light fell on his face. Urgh! It scared me so very much. He was wearing a cowboy hat, and I thought he looked quite like a pig who had met a somewhat stoned plastic surgeon. You can imagine the rest of that story. He spat out whatever he was chewing and began to speak. I could hardly understand him through his heavy Texan accent.

"My name is Mr.Sir. You are to call me that at all times. Now listen hard. This ain't no girl scout camp, ye' hear me? While ye'r here, ye'll be workin' hard, diggin' one hole a day, five feet by five feet. Same size as yer' shovel." He drawled. The man wasn't making any sense! What's he going on about? Holes! Murmurs of confusion seeped through the crowd.

"QUIET!" He bellowed, "I forgot to tell ye'. This here's a reformation cen're fer juvenile delinquents. Specifically boys. Obviously, this is gon' change. But as I said b'fore, this here ain't no girl scout camp. Ye'll be diggin' holes. And lots of 'em. Yeah. One hole a day. Now, look around ya. Ya see anything?"

A murmur of "Not really"'s and random wretching sounds followed from the crowd.

"No guard towers, no electric fences; If ye wanna run away, go! The longest ye'll last is three days. Ye know why? We got the only water source in one hundred miles." He said, finishing with a smirk. If I didn't know better, I'd say he was happy to be living in this dump. "Also, be careful of rattlesnakes and scorpions. But their bites won't kill ya... Usually. One thing ye'd better watch out for though," he continued, "Is yellow spotted lizards. If one of them gets at ya' ye'll die; slowly and painfully."

I almost didn't hear the last part. He was now in the light fully, and my eyes were looking at the thing in his belt. Well, me and every other kid there.

"I see yer lookin' at my gun. Don't worry, I ain't gonna shoot ya'," he started, "This is fer yellow spotted lizards. I wouldn't waste a bullet on any of ya.". I was seriously getting bored now. He had moved on to breakfast being sometime (I wasn't listening) and how we'd be assigned to tents. That interested me. He began pointing out at random members of the crowd.

"You. A tent, behind that little blonde guy. You, B tent, the girl next to him." He began ordering us to different tents. But I could see no tents. Only wooden buildings. I also kept my eye one Mairie MacDonald and her posse. I didn't want to be in the same building as her. I was in the same school group as her in Hartford Hall, and she is pure evil. All of her hobbies had something to do with sadistic violence in them. And she had taken a special disliking to me, because I'm from Surrey. I swear, that's what she said! Anyway, she and her best friend Mick(Short for Michelle) were assigned the 'D Tent". Slowly, everyone around me was assigned to the tent. Mr.Sir was picking the girls first, and for the moment, I was a bloody boy. Eventually, after assigning tents to about twenty people, spitting random stuff from his mouth and shouting at some very frightened looking people who wore orange and resembled overgrown Oompa Loompas, he finally came to me. It seemed like slow motion, (even though it wasn't)but very clearly, he spat out the evil words.

"You. D tent."

That's the end of the first chapter! Yay! It's my first serious attempt at writing a fanfiction, and I'm proud of it, even though it's probably scrappy. 'Life is Pooey' is a mixture of Leticia's diary entries, her life from her point of view, and occasionally flashbacks from other people. Please tell me what you think!-EbilGenius