Chapter 20

The constant sun exposure must have fried Mickey's brain more than she thought because, despite practically having the contents of Honorable Lawson's letter memorized over the course of the long walk from the holes back to D-Tent, it still didn't make sense. Not that the letter itself was complicated; in fact it was short, sweet, and to the point:

As per my last letter, there have been no updates as of yet.
I am keeping my ears to the ground for any new advancements. My resources are steady.
I suspect that everything is still in order on your end. However, I am still waiting for your end to come through.
I expect a response soon.

It was the set up that had her mind reeling. No formal opening, no salutations, no closing, just the brief correspondence. Almost as if he were trying to weed out the insignificant extras, just to draw eye to the point. And even on paper the words appeared as stilted and stiff as the man they belonged to.

Mickey could still hear his clipped tones as he announced her fate: that she was to be sentenced to eighteen months at detention facility. Yes, maybe it was a bad idea to try and beat up her attacker with a baseball bat, but she was just…done. Done with being silenced. Done with being ignored. Done with being stepped on. Done with losing.

But it was her first offense! She'd never stepped a toe out of line in her life. The one time she snuck a cookie that her mother said she couldn't have, she felt so guilty she tried to throw it back up so at least she could somewhat put it back (she was five and she couldn't exclude Santa's all-knowing influence from the occasion.)

The leniency she expected to be handed in her case fell by the way side and the next thing she knew she was being shipped away. And as the cold handcuffs were slapped around her wrists, she looked up to the stand and saw the look on Honorable Lawson's face, that satisfied smile as he sent another troubled kid away. But it wasn't his look that stayed with her the longest, it was his sentencing before he smacked down his gavel. His quick quip, "Lucky for you, vacancies don't last long where you're going."

Her fingers gripped the letter in her pocket, the paper crinkled in her hand, squealing and creaking in her grip. Maybe if she held it hard enough, she could get a better understanding of him, of why he wouldn't even bother to check where she was being sent. He could lose his license over a mistake like this, couldn't he? If the news ever came to light, his reputation would be ruined.

Her body jolted with such ferocity that she came to a standstill on the outskirts of the camp. She spied campers walking to and fro, from the showers to the tents to the Wreck Room and to lounge around the porched railing of the dilapidated buildings. Fragmented conversations and random bursts of laughter floated by her only to be drowned out by the blood rushing in her ears and the thoughts flying through her mind.

His reputation would be ruined if the news got out. And, as far as she knew, she was the only one who knew she was in the wrong place. Or, rather, the only one who cared. But what if she wasn't the only one that cared? She swallowed the lump that had begun to form in her throat and eased out a breath in an effort to steady her now racing heart.

What if that was why the Warden wasn't in a rush to get her out? Because she needed to keep her there. To keep her quiet. Because she and Honorable Lawson were in on something, together. Certainly no one as esteemed as him could have made such a mistake. Because it wasn't a mistake. No, he knew what he was doing. Deep down, she felt it in her bones. She was sent there on purpose. The boys may have been sent to dig holes and build character or whatever bullshit they were pushing but she was there for their protection. Her own be damned.

She chuckled as she continued walking into the camp. It was a good idea, she had to admit, but there were a few problems. Her mother would be able to research and figure out more about the camp and once she found out then she'd send a swarm of police down to get her. Right?

Her lips pressed into a line as doubts crept in. Then again, she could be wrong. When Mickey first heard about it due to Alan's arrest it was in a passing comment. Her mother had gotten the information from some of the other Country Club moms and passed it on to her, that Squid had been sent to Camp Green Lake, a juvenile detention facility. Nowhere in her brief bit of research did it say it was strictly for boys. Hell, it hardly had an internet presence online. And that was the way the Warden probably liked it. Or wanted it.

Or needed it.

Mickey drew back her arm and heaved her shovel with all her might. It landed with a clang amongst the pile that lay on the ground by the Warden's car which was being washed by two boys from C-Tent. C-Tent she didn't mind. They tended to stick to themselves and they were cordial to her at least. The two boys nodded to her and she lifted her chin. Those were two meals she wouldn't be spitting in.

Clapping her hands together, she watched as little clouds of dust exploded in her face. Her empty canteen banged against her side and she made a mental note to fill it up whenever there was a lull by the showers.

So, here she was at Camp Green Lake, possibly sent there on purpose, but why? Why would Honorable Lawson put her, specifically, there? Mickey wracked her brain; the pieces were scattered, and she just needed to find a way to put them all together but how?

Two lines stuck out at her: as per my last letter and my resources are steady. Which meant that they'd been in contact at least once before. But was that when she had first been sent there? And if not, then who or what could be have referred to in their last correspondence? As far as she knew he only resided over her case. In fact, she remembered, he was replaced as her judge at the last minute. Her court case was to have someone else but then she and her family had gotten word that there was a change in plans. No one dwelled on it, so she didn't either. She hummed. Maybe she should have.

And the other, my resources are steady. What kind of resources? Financial? If that's the case, then where did the money go? Certainly not into the camp itself. Not with their broken tools, pieces of furniture, lack of stimulation, and the poor excuse of they called food. And the Warden's place didn't seem to have any sort of upgrades to it. There couldn't be any sort of cable company that would come out that far just to install a better satellite package.

C'mon, Mickey, think! Think! She smacked her forehead with her palms, trying to jostle something into place. He was a judge. What did judges have to provide? Consequences. Consequences to the law. Okay. Judges doled out punishments or cleared convictions entirely if not settling for probation. So, he provided…verdicts. Wait…

She stopped walking, body jolting as realization struck her. If the Warden was in contact with her judge, what if he wasn't the only one? And if he wasn't the only one, that meant she was in contact with judges around Texas. And if she were in contact with judges around Texas, that meant she had to be looking at a particular set of arrests. Juvenile ones.

She resumed her pace, marching straight towards her tent. Everyone should be in the Wreck Room, that would give her enough time in the tent alone to sort out the rest of her thoughts before she had to get started on dinner. Maybe if she could write some of it down, she could see the answer to the puzzle in front of her. The closer she got to the tent, the more frenzied her thoughts became.

So if—if—the Warden was seeking out kids, it still didn't explain why she was the lone girl at the camp. Or what the judges could be getting out of it. Money didn't seem to be coming in if the Wreck Room was of any indication. Was there money going out? But then how would the Warden be making the money? Hell, The Warden would have to sell off their kidneys on the black market to get something substantial out of the place.

Pulling a face, Mickey grabbed the hem of her off-white shirt, glancing down at her stomach. No unusual gashes, cuts, or scars as far as the eye could see. Her shoulders sagged as a breath of relief fell out of her mouth. Maybe it was silly, but she couldn't be too careful. Letting her guard down allowed the monsters in.

Mickey dropped her shirt, lifted her head, and screamed at the sight of Mr. Sir's grotesquely puffy, swollen, scratched up face.

Apparently, monsters could walk in through normal doors, too.

"Holy shit!" She clamped her hands over her mouth, but it was too late. Her surprise at his scratched face managed to slip out when she spotted him coming out of the office. Her eyes widened when Mr. Sir turned his squinting eyes in her direction. Random campers lounging around outside stilled. She held her breath. Maybe if she stayed still, he wouldn't see her. Or maybe a hole could open beneath her and swallow her up. There were plenty to choose from.

He continued to stare. His beady, squinty eyes trained with laser-like focus. Heat crawled up her neck and every muscle in her body tensed. Her eyes shifted between focusing on the swelling on his face and the tip of his nose to keep from staring.

"You look…breathtaking!" Mickey uttered only to flinch a second later as her choice of words settled on her mind. "Not breathtaking! Normal. You look normal! ….Not that you look bad! You look fine! Plain! Normal! Nothing's wrong with your face whatsoever!" Stop talking! Stop talking!

Of course, he was. Just standing. And staring. His eyes, if possible, became even more squinted. So much so he looked as if he had fallen asleep on the spot. If only he would. Stop looking at me! She didn't know what was worse, his stare or the eventual surgery she'd need to have on her jaw to remove the feet she'd managed to cram inside her mouth.

Thankfully, a counselor stuck their head out of the Mess Hall and called for Mr. Sir's attention. The minute his attention shifted, she turned and ran the rest of the way to D-Tent. Clomping up the short set of stairs, she burst into the tent only to stop short spotting Caveman and Zero sitting on Caveman's cot, a wooden carte turned over near their feet.

"Hey," she greeted them.

"…Hey…" Caveman said slowly. He glanced at Zero and then the two stared back at her. Quiet. Waiting. She stared back at them.

"What are you doing?"

Zero and Caveman exchanged another look. "Nothing," Caveman replied. Zero pressed his lips together. Mickey spotted a few letters written on the paper on the upturned crate but didn't make out anything. Nevermind, it didn't matter anyway.

"So…what happened again when Mr. Sir took you to the Warden?" she asked, sitting down on the cot across from them. They hastily pushed the paper off the crate. A pencil clattered to the floor. Caveman kicked it away with his boot.

"Uhh…nothing. Nothing happened," Caveman said.

"Really?" Mickey lifted an eyebrow. Caveman nodded. "Because I just ran into Mr. Sir and his face can give me nightmares. Well, more nightmares."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean his face was all puffy like he got stung by a bee. Or had an allergic reaction. Or his skin's trying to run away from his face. That's what I mean." Caveman rubbed the back of his neck; his skin ruddied beneath his sunburned cheeks. "He also had these scratch marks."

"Well…I don't know." Caveman shrugged. "Maybe a tent door slammed on his face."

She stared. A wave crashed through her. A fuse sputtered to life. A cyclone of put-downs whirled around in her head, a deafening roar. You're overreacting. You don't know what you're talking about. You're being ridiculous. It's not that big a deal. You're so sensitive. Why do you have to be so childish? Oh, lighten up. You're imagining things. Nobody believes you, why should I? God, can't you take a joke? You got it all wrong. You're making things up. You're crazy.

"I'm not crazy," she muttered.

Caveman's eyebrow lifted. "I…never said you were."

"So don't talk to me like I am!" Her fingers curled into fists; she pressed her knuckles into her knees, bone pushing against bone. Better hers than his. Of course she knew she wouldn't really punch Caveman but, boy, did the rage pulsing within her really make her want to. "I know what I saw! I'm not making it up. Something happened to Mr. Sir. And…and it has more to do than the stupid sunflower seeds. I know it does!" She dug into the large pockets of her jumpsuit and pulled out the letter. She unfolded it and handed it to him. "And I think it has something to do with why my judge is writing here.

"Remember when Armpit gave the Warden that dial to try and get out of digging? She stabbed him with the pitchfork for that. And now after the sunflower seeds…Mr. Sir's hurt. I just…I feel like the Warden wouldn't bother if whatever she had us digging for wasn't so important. She'd just stay in her cabin all day like she did before, right? Whatever it was that X-Ray gave her, it's important. It's important to the Warden and important to us now because we're at her mercy. And I'm—" she huffed out a breath, her fingers curling up by her face as if trying to grasp an invisible neck, "—I'm sure my judge is involved somehow. Otherwise, why is he writing here? I've been sentenced, it's over and done with unless the sentence has been overturned or I've been ordered to be moved. Because any sane person wouldn't purposely put me here. But, here's thing, I think he's writing because he wants to stay informed about what we're looking for. Because he'll get some sort of compensation for sending juvenile delinquents here to aid in looking for the thing and—"

"Lipstick." Caveman spoke so suddenly that Mickey stuttered, blinked and shook her head. For a second she felt the urge—the hard trained urge—to apologize to him for rambling. But she bit her tongue. What the hell was she sorry for? Talking? Sharing her thoughts? Having them? Habits sure did die hard. "It was a tube of lipstick."

"That's what I thought it was too but, well…you know."

"Yeah." Caveman folded up the letter and handed it back to her. "It reminded me of something that I've seen before. I didn't place it until I went to the Warden's cabin. It's just old looking so I couldn't…and remember that heart? The KB? I think that…it's Kate Barlow. I think we're trying to find whatever Kissin' Kate Barlow buried."

Mickey blinked. "I'm sorry…Kissin' who?"

It was Caveman's turn to stare at her. "Kissin' Kate Barlow," he repeated. Mickey made a face. "Kissin' Kate Barlow? The outlaw? She robbed banks and killed men and…" his words trailed off as her face remained blank. Though, Mickey had to admit, the woman, Kissin' Kate, sounded like a badass. "Anyway, if it is hers…that's what we're looking for."

"And the judges—well mine—want a share of it. I'm sure of it! I mean, being sent to a detention facility for stealing shoes? Or…or stealing spare change and soda cans of all things? Like what—what else are kids going to be thrown in jail for? Spitting out gum? Jaywalking? Starting a food fight? Violating town curfew?" She shook her head, pushed a hand through her uneven hair.

Her heart hummed. Her skin buzzed as if she'd been struck with tiny bolts of lightning. She licked her dry lips and rubbed her sweaty palms on the legs of her pants. "Okay, so…what are we going to do?"

Caveman and Zero exchanged a look. Her mouth twisted to the side. Nothing good ever came out of that look, if high school taught her anything. "Nothing," he replied.

See? Nothing good.

"Waddya mean nothing?"

"I mean we do nothing. Like, right now we do nothing."

"Caveman—"

"You're lucky that you somehow got away with taking that letter and not getting caught or punished." She squinted and her jaw slacked. Huh. He had a point, now that she thought about it. Squid got busted for breaking a pencil of all things, why wasn't she caught for going through drawers and taking a letter? Even Pendanski was lenient and, at the time, she just thought she'd managed to make the situation so awkward he wouldn't think about it. But now that she thought about it… "So, I wouldn't push it."

"But—"

"Hey! Girlie, what're you doin' in here?" a counselor—Mickey never bothered to learn what their names were—barked as he stuck his head into the tent flap. "Get your ass to the kitchens! Now!"

Mickey followed him out of the tent, head down, tail between her legs. Habits die hard.

But not this time.

She couldn't do nothing, not now. Not when kids were practically being sold to dig for treasure that may or may not be there. (She refused to accept the selling as anything other than a fact; she'd had the word "allegedly" thrown at her so many times it may as well be tattooed on her nerves).

The camp wanted her to be seen, not heard? Well, she'd make them regret that.

a/n — This should have been up ages ago but I kept getting stuck until I realized I was trying to do too much in this chapter so I broke it down to one plot thread I've been dying to reveal since I've come up with the idea for this story rather than keeping it too entangled in the Holes plot and here we are, finally, with an update! Anyone ever hear of the kids for cash scandal? That's what partially inspired this fic and now you know half of the reason why Mickey was sent to Camp Green Lake! (The other half was kind of revealed a few chapters ago but no one caught it! I'm surprised!). As far as I recall, all that was stated about Camp Green Lake operating was that the Warden had convinced people that having delinquents dig holes to "build character" and change their ways. Then I wondered why a judge or anyone in the court system never looked into Camp Green Lake (until Stanley's lawyer showed up) and then I learned about the kids for cash scandal and, well, the answer was right in front of my face! Yes, I know I promised a Squid scene and some Eagle stuff this chapter but it had to be moved, but don't worry! It's coming next! Thank you all for being patient with me between updates! Please read and review! P.S. I'm aware I use a lot of exclamation points. I just like this fic a lot, okay?

Review replies

LittleBlueSweater: I answered one of your questions with this chapter, I think! We learned what's going on with the judge (and with the Warden indirectly). As for Squid and Eagle, their time to shine comes next chapter. You mentioned once about keeping an eye on Eagle because of his cowardliness? Well, you're going to find out why you have that feeling. As for your prediction about the letters, you're right! Letters to (and some from? dun dun dun) Camp Green Lake are being intercepted. They can't have their secrets getting out due to one camper blabbing, can they? Ahhh, thanks so much! I work hard to make OC-canon interactions as seamless as possible and I'm happy to see that I hit the nail on the head. I stress about it so much. Mickey does become somewhat involved in Caveman's and Zero's plot, as you can see with this chapter, but I haven't decided on if she goes with them or not. I have the rest of this story outlined and could go either way but nothing's set in stone yet. Thanks so much for your support!

Lottiefifi: Thanks so much! I hope you enjoyed this chapter as well!

Guest: Aaaah, thank you so much! That means a lot to me! I hope you enjoy this one as well!

Shawny: Thank you so much for taking the time to review and for your sweet review! It sure put a big ass smile on my face! There may be some time between updates every now and then but this story won't be done until it's done!