He stepped out the door, calling back into the house: Just goin' to the store for some ice cream!
You better hurry your ass back here! came the reply from his wife.
When you comin' back, dad? asked his son.
He looked down at him, ruffled his hair, said good-bye, and left. Climbing into the car he wondered about it, shook his head, and was off.

Night came around; he wasn't home. His wife was getting angry because he hadn't paid the bills.
Damn mother fucker, she mumbled as she leafed through the papers.
Mom, when's dad comin back? the son asked.
Shut the fuck up, Alan! she yelled.
The boy backed away. You've been drinkin' again!
I told you to shut up! his mother yelled, getting up. In her hand had appeared a belt. The belt. She always had it with her. Everywhere.
The boy's eyes got wide. No, Mom!
Her large form towered over her kid and her eyes shone with anger. She held the belt up, the buckle dangling at the end. She swung it, hitting the boy.
Mom, don't! That hurts! Ow! Mom, stop! he cried, trying to make himself too small to be hit.
His mother didn't stop until she'd hit him more than enough times.
Get out! she yelled then. Get out of this house!
The boy scrambled up to his feet and raced out the door. He stopped a few blocks from his house and hid in an alleyway. He started to cry.
What you cryin' for, wimpy? asked a kid who had walked up.
The boy was on his feet instantly, pushing the other boy backwards. Who said I was cryin'? Huh? Don't you come messing with me, kid, coz you sure as hell won't like it!
The other kid glared at him. You ain't got no right talkin' to me like that. You're just the stupid Alan kid with the dumbass parents.
The boy screamed with rage. Run! You as hell better just run!
The look on Alan's face was so dark that the other kid did take off running, hearing the yells of anger from the alleyway.

Alan began staying away from home. Away from the mother would had basically gone crazy. She loved the booze more than her son.
What's it matter, he mumbled sometimes. Dad's gone and he ain't comin' back!
The boy tried to convince himself he hated his father. But he couldn't. Something just wouldn't let go of how fond he was of his dad, and how much he loathed his mother. And also that feeling every human child has. The need for his mother. It hounded him. It drove him crazy.
Picking up a rock he smashed a first floor window. He knew the people weren't home. He'd watched them leave.
He unlocked the window and crawled inside. There were no lights on, and most of the window shades were pulled down. He scowled. Going over to the sofa he pulled up each cushion, looking for loose change. He found a dollar's worth. In the kitchen he checked the refrigerator. He took a few soda cans and a half of a melon.
He had to eat, didn't he?
As quickly as he'd come he left through the back door.
He never took anything else. Just enough for him to live by.
And he didn't share anything with his mother.
Sitting down in one of the many alleys, he began trying to figure out how to eat the melon half, since he didn't have anything to cut it with. Finally he decided to just break it. He did, and he ate it.
Opening a can of soda he walked out the other end of the alley and looked about.
Then he heard the sirens. He froze. The sound traveled in the other direction from him. He sighed and kept walking.
Damn cops, he said. Always gotta be running somewhere and freakin' me out, don't they? He forced himself to laugh.
That night he tried for another house. But he wasn't as lucky has be had been before. He was caught.

The Judge never listened to what he had to say. He was just a juvenile delinquent who was up to no good.
Alan was found guilty.
He didn't pay attention to anything the Judge said. It was all shit anyway. When he was supposed to be escorted out of the room, the boy started yelling.
Yeah, you think I'm guilty? And what am I guilty of? The need to live, you bastard! You'd be better off sending my bitch mother to jail, she's the one that started it. Her and her fuckin' booze. Don't believe me Mr. Judge? Just go check her damn car and the damn house. You'll find beer cans and wine bottles and whiskey all over the place!
You think I enjoy breakin' into people's houses and stealin' petty change? How is that a mother fuckin' crime, huh? Tell me that! All I wanna do is live, you stupid Judge. Have you ever been livin' more on the streets than in a house? No! I don't think so! Coz then you wouldn't be here, sendin' little me off to some dumbass prison with all the freaks!
He pushed off a guard who was trying to hold him down.
Well, I got something else to say to you, SIR! Fuck you! Fuck you all, you fuckin' losers! I hope you're all hit by a damn fuckin' tanker truck!
He gave the Judge the finger with each hand, then walked nobly out of the room, without the guards, who had to hurry to catch up with him.
The Judge sighed and rubbed his brow with two fingers. Juvenile delinquents always think the universe revolves around them.
But it does, said a voice from in front of him.
He looked up to see a girl, maybe a little younger than the boy he had just sent to jail. He was taken off guard by the girl's fiery eyes.
The universe revolves around each of us, she said.
Is that so? he mumbled and leaned back in his chair.
Don't send him to jail, she said. Her tone was flat, but dangerous.
I have to, he told her.
Send him to Camp Green Lake, she said.
Camp what? he sat up.
It's a camp for bad boys, she told him. Send him there. It's better than jail because he'll have to dig a hole five by five feet under the hot sun.
The Judge puckered his lips. Where is this camp?
she answered. I have everything all ready for him, all you need to do is sign the papers and get him on the bus.
He nodded. I'll see what he decides.
If so, she said, let me go and talk with him.
I can't do that, the Judge said, once more leaning back in his chair.
Her eyes glowed with anger. You will, she said.
What do you want to talk to him about? the Judge asked.
Camp Green Lake, was the answer. And I want to talk with him now!
The Judge thought a moment, then called over one of the guards.
I want no one listening or watching us, she said as they talked.
I'm afraid I can't do that, said the Judge.
You will, she told him, or else the Lord Himself will punish you.
The Judge looked at her.
You're a judge, she said, so you must be a religious man. And I don't think He would want to have to hurt one of His great followers.
What would He do? the Judge asked in a small voice.
How should I know? the girl scowled, I'm not Him!
The Judge turned to the guard and talked to him a moment.
The girl smiled. Thanks Judge, you'll be rewarded for your efforts.
The man nodded and smiled weakly.

The girl was lead into a room somewhere in the building and told to wait. When the guards came back with Alan, she could hear him protesting about having to talk with someone. She wondered if they'd told him whom he was going to talk with, and if so, whom they had said it was.
Alan was brought into the room and it looked as if the guards were going to tie him down.
She stood up, glaring at them. I will not have him restrained. If he so feels to hurt me, then let him. I give the chance to.
She quickly pointed the guards out the door.
Sitting down again she looked over at Alan. He had a crazy look in his eye, as if he was a caged animal.
Which you are, she said out loud.
The boy stared at her. Who are you?
She smiled. Who I am doesn't matter to you, Alan. I've come here to tell you about somewhere you'd rather go than jail. It's Camp Green Lake.
Alan blinked.
There you have to dig a hole everyday of the week, five feet deep and just as wide. You got that?
The boy nodded.
You'll be in Texas working under the hot sun. There's hardly any water, you only get a four minute shower, the food sucks, and the counselors drive you nuts.
I can take it, he said.
She nodded. I know you can. But that's not the reason I want you to go there. Another kid is going there too, and you're going to be in the same tent. At Green Lake there are six tents, tent A to tent F. You're going to be in tent D, got it? Good. This other kid is either going to be sent out, or he has already. His name's José.
What about him? Alan asked. He sounded bored.
She sighed. I can't tell you clearly, but he's going to be your lifeline there, and you his. If you go to jail, you'll get through, but he'll fail. If he goes to jail, he's get through, but you'll fail. Understand?
What do you mean get through' and the boy asked.
Live and die, she answered.
How would we die? he asked.
You don't want to know, the girl said. The Judge is going to ask you if you want to go to jail or Camp Green Lake. Pick the camp!
Without another word the girl was up and knocking on the door to get out. She waved as she left, and Alan felt strangely confused.

Later when he'd been moved to yet another room and this time strapped down, the Judge had asked him Camp Green Lake or jail?
he had answered.
When he was being brought out to the bus that the girl had gotten ready for him, Alan was sure he saw her standing in the distance. She raised a hand, he blinked, and then she wasn't there anymore.
The bus ride was long, too long, and soon he became hungry and then thirsty. Several times the driver stopped at gas stations and the bus guard would get out and buy something for them to eat and drink.
Alan hated them.
The landscape changed without him noticing it. He didn't come back to himself until the land all around was sand and dirt with a few odd plants here and there. Then he saw the two oak trees and the cabin and the tents, the scene that awaited all newcomers to Camp Green Lake.
He was brought off the bus and into a small building. He didn't pay attention to anyone or anything. He was thinking about what the girl had said. He's going to be your lifeline there, and you his.
He met the others in D tent, and none of them said his name was José, but then again, all the boys there seemed to have odd nicknames. He wondered what they would end up calling him. Ha. If they decided he was one of the group. One of them was called Barf Bag, and he smelt oddly of milk gone bad. Alan stayed away from him.
That night he actually began thinking the kid the girl had told him about wasn't there. He wished she'd told him a nickname, but could she have known that?
If you go to jail, you'll get through, but he'll fail. If he goes to jail, he'll get through, but you'll fail.
The boy puzzled over it. Was she sure the other kid had even been sent to Camp Green Lake?
he mumbled and turned over on his cot.
In the morning, at 4:30, Alan began looking over the other boys in his tent.
X-Ray was the leader, he knew that, and he figured this wasn't the kid the girl had been talking about. José was an Hispanic name as far as he knew, and this kid was black. There was another black kid, Armpit, who stunk so bad everyone kept telling him to keep his arms down. Barf Bag was white, like he was, and so was the messed up Zigzag kid. And there was some kid who was such a mix of everything no one would ever be able to tell what races he might be, the others ignored him and he ignored the others. Then there a kid who called himself Magnet, and he looked Hispanic enough to get the name José.
In truth, Magnet himself was wondering if Alan was the kid that he'd been told about.
The two looked up at the same time, and quickly avoided eye contact. They just couldn't look each other in the eye.

The girl who'd saved Alan, and Magnet, from going to jail, was now working on the case of another kid she knew would end up getting into trouble. She knew the kid no one talked to would be ending his time at the camp in the next few days, and she had to contact the Warden and get all the papers and keep her eye on this kid all at once.
But wasn't that what she'd been doing for a while now?
Yes, it was.
She also kept her eye on another kid that would go to Camp Green Lake in a few months, but she didn't have to worry about him. He'd pick camp. He'd never been to camp before.
Biting down on a pencil she began filling in the forms she'd been sent by the Warden, adding enough detail to them take him, but not enough to give away all the boy's personal things.
She hoped she be able to save the kid who would have to give his place up for this new one. She knew what he would do, why he would do it, and what would happen to him. She just wasn't sure yet where he would be sent.
The girl tucked the papers back in their envelope, sealed it again, and sent them back. She looked at the papers she'd need the Judge to sign.
Wasn't it always the same?
For the last several years, it sure had.
Ever since the camp had opened.