Holes by Louis Sachar
“There is no loot,” said Kate.
“Don’t give me that!” shouted Trout. “You’ve robbed every bank from here to Houston.”
“You better tell him,” said Linda. “We’re desperate.”
“You married him for his money, didn’t you?” asked Kate.
Linda nodded. “But it’s all gone. It dried up with the lake. The peach trees. The livestock. I kept thinking: It has to rain soon. The drought can’t last forever. But it just kept getting hotter and hotter and hotter …” Her eyes fixed on the shovel, which was leaning up against the fireplace. “She’s buried it!” she declared.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Kate.
There was a loud blast as Trout fired his rifle just above her head. The window behind her shattered. “Where’s it buried?” he demanded.
“Go ahead and kill me, Trout,” said Kate. “But I sure hope you like to dig. ’Cause you’re going to be digging for a long time. It’s a big vast wasteland out there. You, and your children, and their children, can dig for the next hundred years and you’ll never find it.”
Linda grabbed Kate’s hair and jerked her head back. “Oh, we’re not going to kill you,” she said. “But by the time we’re finished with you, you’re going to wish you were dead.”
“I’ve been wishing I was dead for the last twenty years,” said Kate.
They dragged her out of bed and pushed her outside. She wore blue silk pajamas. Her turquoise-studded black boots remained beside her bed.
They loosely tied her legs together so she could walk, but she couldn’t run. They made her walk barefoot on the hot ground.
They wouldn’t let her stop walking.
“Not until you take us to the loot,” said Trout.
Linda hit Kate on the back of her legs with the shovel. “You’re going to take us to it sooner or later. So you might as well make it sooner.”
She walked one way, then the other, until her feet were black and blistered. Whenever she stopped, Linda whacked her with the shovel.
“I’m losing my patience,” warned Trout.
She felt the shovel jab into her back, and she fell onto hard dirt.
“Get up!” ordered Linda.
Kate struggled to her feet.
“We’re being easy on you today,” said Trout. “It’s just going to keep getting worse and worse for you until you take us to it.”
“Look out!” shouted Linda.
A lizard leaped toward them. Kate could see its big red eyes.
Linda tried to hit it with the shovel, and Trout shot at it, but they both missed.
The lizard landed on Kate’s bare ankle. Its sharp black teeth bit into her leg. Its white tongue lapped up the droplets of blood that leaked out of the wound.
Kate smiled. There was nothing they could do to her anymore. “Start digging,” she said.
“Where is it?” Linda screeched.
“Where’d you bury it?” Trout demanded.
Kate Barlow died laughing.
PART TWO
THE LAST HOLE
29
There was a change in the weather.
For the worse.
The air became unbearably humid. Stanley was drenched in sweat. Beads of moisture ran down the handle of his shovel. It was almost as if the temperature had gotten so hot that the air itself was sweating.
A loud boom of thunder echoed across the empty lake.
A storm was way off to the west, beyond the mountains. Stanley could count more than thirty seconds between the flash of lightning and the clap of thunder. That was how far away the storm was. Sound travels a great distance across a barren wasteland.
Usually, Stanley couldn’t see the mountains at this time of day. The only time they were visible was just at sunup, before the air became hazy. Now, however, the sky was very dark off to the west, and every time the lightning flashed, the dark shape of the mountains would briefly appear.
“C’mon, rain!” shouted Armpit. “Blow this way!”
“Maybe it’ll rain so hard it will fill up the whole lake,” said Squid. “We can go swimming.”
“Forty days and forty nights,” said X-Ray. “Guess we better start building us an ark. Get two of each animal, right?”
“Right,” said Zigzag. “Two rattlesnakes. Two scorpions. Two yellow-spotted lizards.”
The humidity, or maybe the electricity in the air, had made Zigzag’s head even more wild-looking. His frizzy blond hair stuck almost straight out.
The horizon lit up with a huge web of lightning. In that split second Stanley thought he saw an unusual rock formation on top of one of the mountain peaks. The peak looked to him exactly like a giant fist, with the thumb sticking straight up.
Then it was gone.
And Stanley wasn’t sure whether he’d seen it or not.
“I found refuge on God’s thumb.”
That was what his great-grandfather had supposedly said after Kate Barlow had robbed him and left him stranded in the desert.
No one ever knew what he meant by that. He was delirious when he said it.
“But how could he live for three weeks without food or water?” Stanley had asked his father.
“I don’t know. I wasn’t there,” replied his father. “I wasn’t born yet. My father wasn’t born yet. My grandmother, your great-grandmother, was a nurse in the hospital where they treated him. He’d always talked about how she’d dab his forehead with a cool wet cloth. He said that’s why he fell in love with her. He thought she was an angel.”
“A real angel?”
His father didn’t know.
“What about after he got better? Did he ever say what he meant by God’s thumb, or how he survived?”
“No. He just blamed his no-good-pig-stealing-father.”
The storm moved off farther west, along with any hope of rain. But the image of the fist and thumb remained in Stanley’s head. Although, instead of lightning flashing behind the thumb, in Stanley’s mind, the lightning was coming out of the thumb, as if it were the thumb of God.
30
The next day was Zigzag’s birthday. Or so he said. Zigzag lay in his cot as everyone headed outside. “I get to sleep in, because it’s my birthday.”
Then a little while later he cut into the breakfast line, just in front of Squid. Squid told him to go to the end of the line. “Hey, it’s my birthday,” Zigzag said, staying where he was.
“It’s not your birthday,” said Magnet, who was standing behind Squid.
“Is too,” said Zigzag. “July 8.”
Stanley was behind Magnet. He didn’t know what day of the week it was, let alone the date. It could have been July 8, but how would Zigzag know?
He tried to figure out how long he’d been at Camp Green Lake, if indeed it was July 8. “I came here on May 24,” he said aloud. “So that means I’ve been here …”
“Forty-six days,” said Zero.
Stanley was still trying to remember how many days there were in May and June. He looked at Zero. He’d learned not to doubt him when it came to math.
Forty-six days. It felt more like a thousand. He didn’t dig a hole that first day, and he hadn’t dug one yet today. That meant he’d dug forty-four holes—if it really was July 8.
“Can I have an extra carton of juice?” Zigzag asked Mr. Sir. “It’s my birthday.”
To everyone’s surprise, Mr. Sir gave it to him.
Stanley dug his shovel into the dirt. Hole number 45. “The forty-fifth hole is the hardest,” he said to himself.
But that really wasn’t true, and he knew it. He was a lot stronger than when he first arrived. His body had adjusted somewhat to the heat and harsh conditions.
Mr. Sir was no longer depriving him of water. After having to get by on less water for a week or so, Stanley now felt like he had all the water he could want.
Of course it helped that Zero dug some of his hole for him each day, but that wasn’t as great as everyone thought it was. He alwa
It was better than digging.
But not a lot better.
When the sun came up a couple of hours later, Stanley looked for “the thumb of God.” The mountains were little more than dark shadows on the horizon.
He thought he could make out a spot where the top of one mountain seemed to jut upward, but it didn’t seem very impressive. A short time later the mountains were no longer visible, hidden behind the glare of the sun, reflecting off the dirty air.
It was possible, he realized, that he was somewhere near where Kate Barlow had robbed his great-grandfather. If that was really her lipstick tube he’d found, then she must have lived somewhere around here.
Zero took his turn before the lunch break. Stanley climbed out of his hole, and Zero climbed down into it.
“Hey, Caveman,” said Zigzag. “You should get a whip. Then if your slave doesn’t dig fast enough, you can crack it across his back.”
“He’s not my slave,” said Stanley. “We have a deal, that’s all.”
“A good deal for you,” said Zigzag.
“It was Zero’s idea, not mine.”
“Don’t you know, Zig?” said X-Ray, coming over. “Caveman’s doing Zero a big favor. Zero likes to dig holes.”
“He sure is a nice guy to let Zero dig his hole for him,” said Squid.
“Well, what about me?” asked Armpit. “I like to dig holes, too. Can I dig for you, Caveman, after Zero’s finished?”
The other boys laughed.
“No, I want to,” said Zigzag. “It’s my birthday.”
Stanley tried his best to ignore them.
Zigzag kept at it. “Come on, Caveman. Be a pal. Let me dig your hole.”
Stanley smiled, as if it were all a big joke.
When Mr. Pendanski arrived with water and lunch, Zigzag offered Stanley his place in line. “Since you’re so much better than me.”
Stanley remained where he was. “I didn’t say I was bet—”
“You’re insulting him, Zig,” said X-Ray. “Why should Caveman take your place, when he deserves to be at the very front? He’s better than all of us. Aren’t you, Caveman?”
“No,” said Stanley.
“Sure you are,” said X-Ray. “Now come to the front of the line where you belong.”
“That’s okay,” said Stanley.
“No, it’s not okay,” said X-Ray. “Get up here.”
Stanley hesitated, then moved to the front of the line.
“Well, this is a first,” Mr. Pendanski said, coming around the side of the truck. He filled Stanley’s canteen and handed him a sack lunch.
Stanley was glad to get away. He sat down between his hole and Zero’s. He was glad that he’d be digging his own hole for the rest of the day. Maybe the other boys would leave him alone. Maybe he shouldn’t let Zero dig his hole for him anymore. But he needed to save his energy to be a good teacher.
He bit into his sandwich, which contained some kind of meat-and-cheese mixture that came in a can. Just about everything at Green Lake came in a can. The supply truck came once a month.
He glanced up to see Zigzag and Squid walking toward him.
“I’ll give you my cookie if you let me dig your hole,” said Zigzag.
Squid laughed.
“Here, take my cookie,” said Zigzag, holding it out for him.
“No, thanks,” said Stanley.
“C’mon, take my cookie,” said Zigzag, sticking it in his face.
“Leave me alone,” said Stanley.
“Please eat my cookie,” said Zigzag, holding it under Stanley’s nose.
Squid laughed.
Stanley pushed it away.
Zigzag pushed him back. “Don’t push me!”
“I didn’t …” Stanley got to his feet. He looked around. Mr. Pendanski was filling Zero’s canteen.
Zigzag pushed him again. “I said, ‘Don’t push me.’ ”
Stanley took a step backward, carefully avoiding Zero’s hole.
Zigzag kept after him. He shoved Stanley and said, “Quit pushing!”
“Lay off,” said Armpit, as he, Magnet, and X-Ray joined them.
“Why should he?” snapped X-Ray. “Caveman’s bigger. He can take care of himself.”
“I don’t want any trouble,” Stanley said.
Zigzag pushed him hard. “Eat my cookie,” he said.
Stanley was glad to see Mr. Pendanski coming toward them, along with Zero.
“Hi, Mom,” said Armpit. “We were just fooling around.”
“I saw what was going on,” Mr. Pendanski said. He turned to Stanley. “Go ahead, Stanley,” he said. “Hit him back. You’re bigger.”
Stanley stared at Mr. Pendanski in astonishment.
“Teach the bully a lesson,” said Mr. Pendanski.
Zigzag hit Stanley on the shoulder with his open hand. “Teach me a lesson,” he challenged.
Stanley made a feeble attempt to punch Zigzag, then he felt a flurry of fists against his head and neck. Zigzag had hold of his collar with one hand and was hitting him with the other.
The collar ripped and Stanley fell backward onto the dirt.
“That’s enough!” Mr. Pendanski yelled.
It wasn’t enough for Zigzag. He jumped on top of Stanley.
“Stop!” shouted Mr. Pendanski.
The side of Stanley’s face was pressed flat against the dirt. He tried to protect himself, but Zigzag’s fists slammed off his arms and pounded his face into the ground.
All he could do was wait for it to be over.
Then, suddenly, Zigzag was off of him. Stanley managed to look up, and he saw that Zero had his arm around Zigzag’s long neck.
Zigzag made a gagging sound, as he desperately tried to pry Zero’s arm off of him.
“You’re going to kill him!” shouted Mr. Pendanski.
Zero kept squeezing.
Armpit charged into them, freeing Zigzag from Zero’s choke hold. The three boys fell to the ground in different directions.
Mr. Pendanski fired his pistol into the air.
• • •
The other counselors came running from the office, the tents, or out on the lake. They had their guns drawn, but holstered them when they saw the trouble was over.
The Warden walked over from her cabin.
“There was a riot,” Mr. Pendanski told her. “Zero almost strangled Ricky.”
The Warden looked at Zigzag, who was still stretching and massaging his neck. Then she turned her attention to Stanley, who was obviously in the worst condition. “What happened to you?”
“Nothing. It wasn’t a riot.”
“Ziggy was beating up the Caveman,” said Armpit. “Then Zero started choking Zigzag, and I had to pull Zero off of Zigzag. It was all over before Mom fired his gun.”
“They just got a little hot, that’s all,” said X-Ray. “You know how it is. In the sun all day. People get hot, right? But everything’s cool now.”
“I see,” the Warden said. She turned to Zigzag. “What’s the matter? Didn’t you get a puppy for your birthday?”
“Zig’s just a little hot,” said X-Ray. “Out in the sun all day. You know how it is. The blood starts to boil.”
“Is that what happened, Zigzag?” asked the Warden.
“Yeah,” said Zigzag. “Like X-Ray said. Working so hard in the hot sun, while Caveman just sits around doing nothing. My blood boiled.”
“Excuse me?” said the Warden. “Caveman digs his holes, just like everyone else.”
Zigzag shrugged. “Sometimes.”
“Excuse me?”
“Zero’s been digging part of Caveman’s hole every day,” said Squid.
The Warden looked from Squid to Stanley to Zero.
“I’m teaching him to read and write,” said Stanley. “It’s sort of a trade. The hol
“Excuse me?” said the Warden.
“Isn’t it more important for him to learn to read?” Stanley asked. “Doesn’t that build character more than digging holes?”
“That’s his character,” said the Warden. “What about your character?”
Stanley raised and lowered one shoulder.
The Warden turned to Zero. “Well, Zero, what have you learned so far?”
Zero said nothing.
“Have you just been digging Caveman’s hole for nothing?” the Warden asked him.
“He likes to dig holes,” said Mr. Pendanski.
“Tell me what you learned yesterday,” said the Warden. “Surely you can remember that.”
Zero said nothing.
Mr. Pendanski laughed. He picked up a shovel and said, “You might as well try to teach this shovel to read! It’s got more brains than Zero.”
“The ‘at’ sound,” said Zero.
“The ‘at’ sound,” repeated the Warden. “Well then, tell me, what does c – a – t spell?”
Zero glanced around uneasily.
Stanley knew he knew the answer. Zero just didn’t like answering questions.
“Cat,” Zero said.
Mr. Pendanski clapped his hands. “Bravo! Bravo! The boy’s a genius!”
“F – a – t?” asked the Warden.
Zero thought a moment.
Stanley hadn’t taught him the “f” sound yet.
“Eff,” Zero whispered. “Eff – at. Fat.”
“How about h – a – t?” asked the Warden.
Stanley hadn’t taught him the “h” sound either.
Zero concentrated hard, then said, “Chat.”
All the counselors laughed.
“He’s a genius, all right!” said Mr. Pendanski. “He’s so stupid, he doesn’t even know he’s stupid.”
Stanley didn’t know why Mr. Pendanski seemed to have it in for Zero. If Mr. Pendanski only thought about it, he’d realize it was very logical for Zero to think that the letter “h” made the “ch” sound.
“Okay, from now on, I don’t want anyone digging anyone else’s hole,” said the Warden. “And no more reading lessons.”
“I’m not digging another hole,” said Zero.