There was going to be some history or something here. But I figured, screw that. It's too difficult. I'll do it later. Woo. This could present problems later on in the story...

I didn't actually go do any research about tobacco. That's not to say that I just made that stuff up out of whole cloth, I just read something like two articles and took them as truth. Since one was a state website and the other was a textbook website, I'm fairly sure they're correct, but feel free to chew me out for not actually knowing anything about cigarettes. I could tell you loads more about weed. But I won't.

Oh, and if anyone has any ideas for a name, it'd be great if you shared it. I wasn't going to give her a name, but until she gets her nickname (and after she rejects it- as if I've written that part), it sometimes gets a little awkward when I'm writing.

The full chapter title is "Dig A Hole, Smoke A Smoke - Dig A Smoke, Smoke A Hole; Let The Smokers Dig While The Diggers Smoke."

Tell me if I should make Will's name Spocktacles. Or Dylan's name Spockrates. xD Star Trek fangirl much?

There was silence in the truck as they made their bumpy way though the labyrinth of holes. Although it didn't bother the girl that much, the quiet was distinctly uncomfortable. She thought several times that she was going to say something, then shut her mouth and continued to look out the window. She glanced over at Mr. Sir from time to time, doing her best not to move. She took silent, deep breaths of the cigarette smoke, closing her eyes as she did so. She hadn't had a smoke since they'd picked her up a week and a half ago and even though she wouldn't really call it an addiction, she'd been craving one for days.

"Want one?" Mr. Sir asked, and she jumped slightly. She turned her head just the tiniest bit to see if he really was offering her one, started to reach towards the outstretched box, and then stopped herself with some difficulty.

"Really?" She didn't want to be caught in some joke at her expense, and she wasn't sure that Mr. Sir really liked her all that much.

"Yeah. Water's scarce here, not tobacco."

She blinked at him, then took the cigarette and the light he offered her. She inhaled deeply and then leaned back, feeling infinitely more relaxed. She debated for a moment over making a smartass remark, then shrugged and figured, What the hell?

"S'not actually any tobacco grown in Texas, y'know that?" she said, glancing over at him. "S'all grown along the Atlantic coast."

"Used to be. My daddy's daddy owned a couple of acres. The good stuff, like in Cuban cigars. But the market had died out by the time my daddy got the farm, so he switched to cotton."

There was silence in the truck. The girl almost wanted to laugh and say, "What?", the comment had come so far out of the blue. "That's cool," she said instead. "My brother gets those Cuban cigars, 'cos he can afford them. It's... it's ridiculous." She'd wanted to use a smaller word; she didn't want to sound too smart.

"What is?" Mr. Sir pulled the truck to a stop by a far-out cluster of holes and looked over at her.

"How fucking rich he got." She pushed the door open angrily, jumping down to the dusty earth.

The five boys surrounding them each stood in shallow holes about the same width, digging furiously. She had a feeling that none of them really had that kind of stamina- more likely they hadn't been working until the truck had come into sight and were now trying to make up for the difference.

"You boys better thank this young lady," said Mr. Sir, his Southern drawl suddenly much more pronounced. "Since I had to bring her all the way out here, I figured I'd just go ahead and fill up your canteens an extra time."

A chorus of tired thank yous rang out as the boys scrambled for a place in line. There didn't seem to be much of a hierarchy, but the girl knew for sure that her place was at the back. As he filled each boy's canteen, Mr. Sir called out the boy's name and the boy would call out a nickname, echo-like.

"This is Dylan-"

"Socrates."

"Logan-"

"Leprechaun."

"Jack-"

"The Captain."

"Will-"

"Spectacles."

"And Jimmy."

She waited for a nickname, and when one was not forthcoming said, "'Sup, Jim?" The other boys looked rather disappointed, but Jimmy blushed a little and smiled.

"Help her out, Jim, will ya?" Mr. Sir finished filling her canteen and handed it back to her along with a shovel. "Show 'er the ropes and such." Jimmy smiled and nodded as Mr. Sir headed back to the front of the truck. The girl turned and walked towards a spot far enough away that no one would be throwing dirt in her hole. She had just stuck the shovel in the dirt when she heard Mr. Sir.

"Hey!" She turned and watched, leaning on her shovel, as he tossed her an unopened pack of cigarettes. "Don't smoke 'em all, now!" he called, and she watched the water tank rattle in the truck bed as he drove away.

She turned to face the expectant boys, scanning their faces and drawing a merciful blank on their names. "What?" she asked, testily, and then picked up the shovel she had dropped to catch the cigarettes, which she had stuck in the pocket of her uniform. There was silence behind her.

"What?!" She whirled around and glared at the lot of them. They continued to stare.

"You're a.. girl..." one of them said finally, raising a tentative finger to point at her. He had dark hair and fair skin and looked as if he could barely lift a shovel, but the hole he stood by was the deepest of the five.

She glared. "Yes, and guess what else? I'M GAY!" She yelled this last bit at the sky, spreading her arms wide and making her voice as loud as she could.

Boys all around, not just in her group, turned to stare as this failed to echo across the vast flatness. The five before her laughed hesitantly and waved it off as if it had been a joke, but their eyes were uncertain and the girl's mouth remained set in a straight line as she turned back to the scratch in the dirt where she was to begin her hole.

Four of the boys went back to their holes, digging in between sideways glances at the girl who ignored them pointedly. It wasn't until the last boy had given up that she turned to a waiting Jimmy and whispered, "Not really."