NOTE: I do not own the story Holes by Louis Sachar. I do not own the D Tent boys.

Please review. For the readers of my other stories, I am sorry I haven't updated. I run out of inspiration easily, and have a bunch of stories I never finish. Yes, I may never finish them. But with your support, maybe I will :)

The bus drove along the dusty, rocky road. Ricky sat in the back, glancing ahead, looking at the other people in the bus, and down at his hands - handcuffed. They weren't taking any chances. The driver, a guard, and another boy, charged for criminal actions, just like him. His name was Will, or something like that. He'd tried to rob a cashier. Ricky felt himself chuckle a bit. Will's act seemed completely harmless compared to what he'd done. He'd tried to kill someone. Attempted homicide. The guard looked at him every once in awhile, as if scared Ricky would suddenly leap to his feet and kill him. Still, he wouldn't have done it if the guy, his name was Keith Bernstein, a kid in his math class hadn't called him a… freak. The word hurt Ricky more than anything anyone could say to him. Yes, he did have acute paranoia. Yes, he did look a bit odd. But he wasn't crazy. He wasn't. I'm not, he told himself. I'm just a little different. Yet Ricky didn't know how long he could keep on telling himself this excuse. I'm just a little unwell. I can get better. I'll show Mom and Dad and-

He stopped. It hurt him to think about his parents. His mother had taken off – because of him. Not his dad or anything else in her life, but him. He whimpered quietly, but the sound was covered up by the bus rolling to a stop. The guard came back and unlocked the handcuffs. Ricky cowered away, but when the guard left, he stood up.

He stepped out into the billowing dust. He choked on the dirt. His eyes watered, and the intense sun burned his neck.

He was here. Camp Green Lake. The camp for criminal boys.

xxx

Will, or whoever he was, spat on the ground. It dissolved immediately. He cursed under his breath while Ricky looked on with interest.

"Where's the lake?" Will asked.

"Don't be smart boy," said a voice from in front of them. There was a small wooden cabin. "Get in here."

Ricky felt himself tense. It's ok Ricky. He just wants to check you in. That's right. He hated his acute paranoia. It made him so vulnerable. Give him one idea, and he'd think of a bunch of harmful possibilities. Numb, he felt his legs move up the steps and into through the door, the guard shoving him along.

Ricky and the kid entered a dark room where a large, beefy man sat at a desk covered in bags of sunflower seeds. He stiffened again, his hairs prickling the back of his neck. Calm down. It's ok. No it's not, he yelled back to the voice. He's huge. He might kill me!

He sat down in a chair, and the kid took a seat next to him.

"My name," the man announced, taking a couple of seeds and stuffing them into his mouth, "is Mr. Sir."

The boy next to him guffawed while Ricky, unblinking, labeled Mr. Sir a potential enemy.

"You think my name is funny?" Mr. Sir roared.

The boy next to him grinned. "Yeah," he said bluntly.

"What's your name boy?" Mr. Sir asked.

"Will. Will Bombers." The boy grinned.

"Well Will, you shouldn't be laughing. You know why?"

Will's smile faded. "Why?"

"Because you're the one who got yourself here, you're the one who's going to be digging holes for the next couple of months, and you're the one who's going to be thirsty. Not me." Mr. Sir reached back into a small refrigerator and pulled out a Coke, which he guzzled, making Will gulp.

"What do you mean by 'dig holes'?" Will asked.

"You take a bad boy. You make him dig holes five feet deep and five feet wide for a while and it turns him into a good boy. You understand?"

"Yes."

"Address me by my name."

"Yes Mr. Sir."

Mr. Sir wheeled around on Ricky. "And you? What's your name?"

Ricky didn't answer. He was terrified, yet he couldn't scream. Actually, he hadn't talked for a while. Not for two days since he was announced guilty.

"Well?" Mr. Sir yelled.

"The kid doesn't talk," said the guard. "Well he hasn't talked to anyone. Take a look at his file."

A FILE? MY LIFE IS ON THERE IN THE HANDS OF THAT MAN RIGHT THERE!

Ricky's hair frizzed and his eyes widened, larger than they had been before.

Mr. Sir pulled out a file. Ricky didn't know what he was doing, but he reached out and tried to grab it. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING SON?"

The guard leaped up and grabbed Ricky, shoving him back down into the chair. "Sorry sir." He snapped the handcuffs back on Ricky, and gave Mr. Sir the key. "Let him out when he's calmed down." Ricky felt his hair drift back down, and his eyes became a bit smaller.

"Yeah, I will. He'll need his hands to dig the holes," Mr. Sir muttered. Opening the file, he read, "Ricky Kamikaze. KAMIKAZE? That's Japanese! Suicide Japanese bomber. This kid looks white to me."

"Yeah, his father changed the family's name. The whole family is nutters Mr. Sir. They're crazy the whole lot. He made them crazy."

Ricky stiffened again.

"Mom left because she couldn't take it anymore," Mr. Sir read. "Dad was arrested for drinking. And why do they do this?"

His eyes scanned down the page. "Oh. I see. Acute paranoia. No wonder it drives them mad. Hmm… arrested for attempted homicide. What did he try to do?"

"He tried to choke the kid after a failed attempt to staple the kid's hand to the table."

"Hmm," grunted Mr. Sir. "You're not going to be trying any of that here, understand?"

Ricky looked at him with his wide, always frightened looking eyes.

"Doesn't talk eh?"

"No. I guess not."

"Yeah, ok."

The truth was, Ricky could talk. He just didn't like to. He was afraid he might say something bad and give people a chance to hurt him again. And he didn't want to be hurt.

"Ok," Mr. Sir said. He reached into the refrigerator and pulled out two Cokes. He gave them to the guard and said, "Take one for the driver."

The guard nodded and left.

Mr. Sir got some more sunflower seeds and told the boys to follow him.

"Why all the sunflower seeds?" Will asked.

"I quit smoking, and now I eat a pack of these a day," Mr. Sir grunted, leading them into another small cabin. He reached into a shelf and pulled out two packages, throwing one to each of them. Will caught his, while Ricky cowered and the package hit the wall.

"Pick it up," Mr. Sir barked, while Ricky clumsily reached down and got it.

"Now," Mr. Sir continued, "one set of these clothes is your work clothes. The other is your relaxation clothes. Clothes are washed every three days, which is when your relaxation clothes become your work clothes. Understand?"

"Yes Mr. Sir," answered Will, while Ricky just nodded cautiously.

"Good," Mr. Sir grunted. "Pendanski! Warner! Get in here!"

Two men came in the cabin. "Will, you're going with Mr. Warner right here. You're in the A Tent, understand?"

"Yes Mr. Sir," Will said, being led out by Mr. Warner, a long, gangly man.

"And Ricky, you go with Mr. Pendanski. You're in D Tent."

"Come on, son," said Mr. Pendanski.

Ricky followed him, glancing back every now and then as if afraid Mr. Sir would suddenly strike him from behind.

"So, Ricky," Mr. Pendanski said, trying to attempt a conversation and scratch his beard at the same time, "I know you're not a bad boy. You still have a chance. Understand?"

He looked over at Ricky, who just stared back at him. Mr. Pendanski gulped and went on, "The boys at D Tent, they'll like you. They'll be your friends."

Yeah, sure, thought Ricky. He'd never had a friend in his life. All of the ones he had had became backstabbers.

Mr. Pendanski led Ricky up to a tent marked 'D'. Several boys walked in, extremely dirty and dusty.

"Hey Mom," one of them called.

Mr. Pendanski attempted a joke with Ricky. "They call me 'Mom'," he said, chuckling.

Ricky stared back at him, his eyes still fixed in their frightened, helpless look. He didn't even smile.

Mr. Pendanski fiddled nervously with his thumbs. "Boys, get over here."

"This," he said, pointing to Ricky, "is Ricky."

The other boys nodded. Ricky heard one of them mutter, "New kid. Fresh meat."

Mr. Pendanski started introducing the others. "This is Rex," he started, but was interrupted by Rex's reply, "It's X-RAY!"

Mr. Pendanski grinned nervously. "They all have their nicknames," he explained to Ricky, "but I like to use their real names."

Slowly, Mr. Pendanski introduced the boys to Ricky, who stood, observing each one of them, registering them into his mind. He'd remember them. He remembered everyone he met, fearing that one day they'd come back for him.

Rex, or X-Ray as he called himself, was obviously the leader. Even though he was almost the shortest one of them, the way he ordered the others around showed that he had power. He was African American and had thick glasses that were so dirty that Ricky couldn't see his eyes through them.

Lewis, or Barf Bag, was a medium-sized kid with dirty blonde hair. He looked extremely depressed. He was obviously a wimp, judging by his name, so Ricky decided not to worry about him. But still, he kept him in mind as a possible enemy. People who looked harmless, weren't always harmless. He'd learned that in the past.

Theodore (Armpit) was a very large African American. Ricky kept in mind that he looked extremely strong, and probably would squish him any time he wanted to.

José (Magnet) was Hispanic. He was a bit on the short side, but he looked like he'd had experience. Ricky would watch out for him.

Zero, (he didn't seem to have another name), was a scrawny kid who always looked angry. He also didn't talk. Yet, Ricky heard that he was the fastest digger. Zero was one of the first kids Ricky couldn't figure out.

The last one was Alan (Squid). He was pretty tall, with dark brown hair. He seemed to have a lot of attitude. Ricky took awhile to figure him out. He could, and would hurt him if he did anything wrong.

Ricky was now terrified. He was staying in a tent with a bunch of boys that would probably kill him. He labeled each of them as a possible enemy. Stay away from X-Ray (he'll set them all on you, Armpit, Magnet, and Squid. Zero and Barf Bag don't look that harmful. Be careful.

The guys looked at him thoroughly. Ricky knew what they were taking in. His extremely lanky and tall frame (5'9" the last time he measured at age 11), so now at 16, he had to be a lot taller. He was still growing too. His blond hair frizzed out everywhere, and his bright brown eyes with their frequently helpless look. And then his mouth, that didn't say anything.

I'll be like Zero, Ricky thought. I won't say anything. Nothing at all. And no one can hurt me that way.

"Hey Ricky," Armpit called.

Ricky looked up.

"Come on man," Squid called. "Over here."

Ricky froze, sitting on his cot (which was very clean), which Magnet had told him belonged to a guy named 'Soapdish' before he'd disappeared off to somewhere. "He was always trying to brush off the dirt, you see man, and we were all like 'Dude. You're going to be dirty anyway,' but he was like 'Not if I can help it."

Getting up, his legs stiff, Ricky ambled over to them, a very bad attempt of a calm look on his face.

"So what did you get in here for?" X-Ray asked.

Ricky looked nervously at the both of them, not answering.

"What's wrong with you? You mute or something?" asked Barf Bag.

Ricky slowly shook his head 'no'.

"Come on, we won't hurt you," coaxed Armpit, reaching out to him.

Ricky shrank away in fear, his eyes looking even more hopeless.

"Yeah dude," Squid said. "We're nice. See?" He grinned.

"Eh," X-Ray said. "We'll find out. Magnet's coming back."

Sure enough, Magnet came through the D Tent.

"So?" Barf Bag asked him. "Who's this new kid?"

"Yeah, I read the file," Magnet said, answering the question in Ricky's eyes. "Ricky Kamikaze. 16. Diagnosed with acute paranoia, whatever that means--"

"He thinks everyone's out to get him and worries about everything. Basically, he's extremely paranoid," clarified Squid. "One of the kids at my school had it."

"Yeah, ok," Magnet replied. "Anyway, he got sent here because he tried to kill a kid at his school. He didn't die, of course, but they sent him here anyway."

He stopped, looking over at Ricky. "What's wrong with you?"

The other kids looked over. Ricky's hair had started to frizz again, and his eyes widened. Growling, he tried to head over at Magnet, as if he could make Magnet stop saying what he had already revealed. He ran over and managed to slap Magnet as hard as he could before Armpit punched him in the stomach. Doubling over, Ricky fell to the floor.

Magnet rubbed his face. "Ow."

"Are you ok Magnet?" Squid asked. "What did you do that for Ricky?"

"Ok, I get it," Magnet said. "He doesn't want you guys to know, I guess. Sorry Ricky, ok? Everything cool?"

Ricky remained on the floor, coughing hoarsely. Then, awkwardly, he stood up, and stalked off. I've already been HURT! I knew it. Stay away from them. Don't do anything that will offend them.

The other boys, stared astounded as Ricky collapsed on his cot, closed his eyes, and went to sleep.

"He's crazy," confirmed Barf Bag.

Ricky, however, was not asleep. In fact, he hadn't slept for two days, just like he hadn't talked. He heard all of it. Words of 'crazy', 'paranoia', and 'freak', came from the other side of the room.

A tear fell from his eye and hit the cot. Rubbing it, Ricky closed his eyes again, and tried to ignore the burning pain he felt in his heart. He went to sleep for a short time, the first time in days.

xxx