SORRY, people, but I don't think this is going to be a romance. Rory and the guys are just going to be FRIENDS. Sorry to disappoint, but I don't want this story to be one of those cliche girl goes to Camp Green Lake and falls in love stories.

Chapter 3: 4:30 AM Wakeup Call

What kind of psychotic people wake up at 4:30 in the morning? I normally wake up around 8 or 9. To me, 4:30 is still night. It it not morning. So when somebody shouted at me and told me it was already 4:30 and that it was time for breakfast, I was sure I had heard whoever it was wrong. Unfortunately, I hadn't. So I just grumbled a bunch and got out of my cot, pulled my hair back into a ponytail and walked out of the tent.

I followed the group of boys from my tent, who were headed towards a big group of orange jumpsuit-clad boys. Mr. Sir, Dr. Pendanski and a few other counselors were milling about, making sure everybody ended up in this big line. And even though I was exhausted, it didn't take me too long to realize that everyone was getting shovels out of this crude shed with Library painted across the top. I just grabbed a shovel and moved away, then leaned on it while yawning and rubbing the sleep from my eyes. Stanley/Caveman came up to me and grinned. "You get used to it after a while," he said, and I wondered which part of this new life at Camp Green Lake he meant. The 4:30 AM wakeup call, the horrible food, or digging holes, most of which were new experiences for me. I just nodded in reply to him. I was too tired to talk.

He was silent for a while, then he looked up at me and said, real quietly, "You lied."

"'Bout what?" I stalled, trying to get out of the conversation.

"You didn't kill anyone."

How in the world does he know? I thought, a bit panicked that he could read me so well, because I've always considered myself a good liar.

I just shrugged, trying to act nonchalant about the whole thing.

"What did you do?"

Just keep quiet, Rory, I told myself, toeing the dirt with my boot.

"Alright, nobody can make you talk. Word of advice, though, make sure you call everybody by their nickname. They don't take it too well when Mom calls them by their real names."

I nodded again. At least there was one nice guy at camp. "Caveman" was okay. But the rest of D tent, with the exception of Zero and Caveman, well, they all seemed...creepy.

I heard Mr. Sir yell something, and pretty soon everybody was walking out to the desert. I just picked up my shovel and canteen and followed Caveman out. After walked past what must have been thousands of holes, we got to a spot that hadn't been dug up yet. Everybody moved away and started digging, and I saw Mr. Sir coming my way.

"Like I said before, just dig as deep as your shovel, and make sure it can go around perfectly in every direction. Water truck comes 'round in a while." he said, spitting some sunflower seeds on the ground. "Now, if you find somethin' you find interestin', you are to show it to Pendanski or me, got it?" I nodded, he spit. "This isn't a girl scout camp."

"That's a good thing, sir," I drawled. "I was never a girl scout." I heard someone snicker, and Mr. Sir looked peeved, but walked away without replying. I thought I heard him mutter something about girls and their antics. I rolled my eyes and stuck my shovel in the ground as far as it would go. It only sunk in a few inches. I looked over at the other boys and watched how they dug for a while. After a few minutes I was able to successfully start my hole, but it was hard. I'd never dug a hole in my life. Not a real one, anyway.

By the time I saw the water truck coming towards our group, my energy was about drained and my hole was dinky compared to everyone else's. I wiped the sweat from my forehead with the dusty sleeve of my jumpsuit, picked up my canteen and slowly made my way over to the line. My back was sore, my arms were aching, my neck felt horrible, I was sweating up a storm and I felt ready to collapse. My hands were bloody with blisters, so I gingerly held out my canteen to Mr. Sir when it was my turn.

He glanced at my hands and snorted. "Don't worry about no blisters, girl. You've never done manual labor, but you'll get used to it. No prissy hands at Camp Green Lake."

I just nodded and took my water, then dragged myself back to my hole. I sat down, breathing pretty heavily. I looked at my hands and winced, but I knew I wouldn't have blisters forever. I was thinking that there was no WAY this place was legal- that there had to be quite a few laws against making kids dig holes, child labor laws or something, when Caveman came over and plopped down next to me.

I glanced over at him, then down at the dirt. "Mine were worse," he said after a while. I looked at him with one eyebrow raised in confusion. "Blisters," he elaborated with a grin.

I held up my bloody palms and shook my head. "No way. It can't get any worse than this."

"Just don't pour water on them. If you do, the dust starts clinging and it'll sting even worse."

He stood up and motioned to my shovel. "Better start digging. Hottest part of the day is coming up."

I scowled at him as he walked away, then pushed myself to my feet and picked up my shovel. My arms screamed in pain. I bit my lip and got to work.

By the time Dr Pendanski brought lunch around, my hands were a lot bloodier, but my hole was quite a bit deeper too. I didn't even notice what we ate, I just gulped it down and went back to my hole.

After a while the boys started to go back to the camp, one by one. Pretty soon I was the only one left, but I knew that I'd be there a while. My hole was almost perfect, but it still slanted some.

I was completely exhausted by the time I finished. I could barely will my legs to carry me back to camp. The muscles in my arms were tighter than bow strings. I grabbed my clean set of clothes and went off to the showers. As I climbed inside my curtained stall, I reflected on my first day at Camp Green Lake. The bad food. The smelly sheets. The psychotic early wakeup call. The digging. Especially the digging. I glanced down at my hands again. As the water washed away the blood and dirt, they didn't look so bad, but they hurt like the dickens. And man, what psychos were employed here? Mr SIR? What kind of name is that? And that really strange stalker-type Docter person. He seemed like he was high all the time, because nobody is cheerful every minute of theirs lives, and I've seen what drugs can do to people.

By the time I got back to the tent I was so tired I just dropped onto my cot. I was really hungry, too, but sleep must have won over in the end, because all too soon it was morning and I could hear the boys talking to each other and walking around.