(A/N: Oh no, I've broken the rule. I told my friends I would never publish a story about a girl going to Camp Green Lake on fanfiction. Well, there's a whole folder of them on my laptop alone, they want out. This is one I just began to write and wanted some feedback on it. Go ahead and flame it, critique it, do your worst, do your best. Tell me what's wrong with it, problems, anything. I can take it. One or two mean reviews (hell a hundred of them) won't make me cry or stop writing. It just lets me know I need to improve. Tell me anything about this story you like or hate. Tell me any mistakes I've made. I don't care; just don't give one or two word reviews. I like reviews to be lengthy and to get he point across. If I get another "cliché" review like I did on another site, heads will fly. (I'm notorious for lengthy author notes). I'm a little excited for this one because it's different and I have some awesome ideas for it.)

Disclaimer: We're allowed to dream right? I dream of owning Holes.

What if as a child you were never told "I love you" by your parents? What if they never hugged or kissed you? What if, when all other kids went on vacation with their families, the most your parents did for you was give you a dollar to leave them alone while they were hung-over. What if they never gave you gifts, threw you a party, took you out to dinner, or went trick-or-treating on Halloween. What if the most contact you had with your parents was when they were yelling at you to go to your room. What if they forgot about your little sporting games and you were left at the field hours after the last person left?

What if, in order to make life seem better, you told everyone the reason your parents never gave you new clothes or bought you presents or toys was they were saving for college, when in all actuality; they were just feeding their alcohol and smoking problems?

How would you end up? How would your life turn out? Would you be the freak, a social outcast? Or would you work at making your life seem better and be one of the popular kids?

Ryan sat smoking a cigarette on the cold, stone stoop as the bitter wind whipped her long black hair around her face. Dead leaves swirled in the empty street, blowing all around her and settling in piles on the corners. She exhaled and sighed, a puff of smoke rising above her.

A single car rolled down the road slowly, coughing and sputtering black smoke from the exhaust pipe, and it stopped by the curb in front of her. She straightened up and quickly threw the cigarette on the step her feet were on, but stomped it out slowly. Slowly, she shuffled where she sat so there was space for someone to walk by if they had to.

A man stepped out of the car, holding his dirty baseball hat on his head and pulling the jacket as tight a he could as the wind tried to pull it away. He slammed the door to his car and slowly walked up the sidewalk to the front door of the apartment building.

"Hey dad," Ryan said as he brushed past her. He grunted to acknowledge he'd heard her. "Nice to see you too," she mumbled as he slammed the door.

Ryan lit another cigarette with a lighter from her back pocket. The wind was blowing dangerously, and the lighter had to be lit several times before she was able to successfully light the cigarette. Once lit, she took a long, slow drag on it.

"Ryan, your dinner's in the microwave if you want it, you ungrateful brat," a woman wearing a dirty bathrobe said as she stuck her head out of the door. "And if I hear that you're still smoking, I'll skin your behind!" With that, the frizzy-haired woman slammed the door closed. Ryan rolled her eyes and stood up, wind trying to tear her jacket away. She took a final drag and tossed the cigarette onto the sidewalk.

"Yeah, well, I don't skin your behind, now do I?" Ryan mumbled. "And at least I'm not a jobless drunk like both you and daddy." She stood and headed inside, slamming the door like both of her parents had. Maybe that was some hereditary thing she had inherited from them; one of many bad, nasty habits.

Inside the dark, dirty apartment that smelled like smoke and alcohol, Ryan kicked her way through the littered floor until she came to the smoke-filled kitchen. Both of her parents were sitting at the litter-covered kitchen table smoking cigarettes, drinking beer, and eating microwave dinners. A fan was running above the kitchen table in an attempt to get rid of some of the smoke, but it had no where else to go. Ryan took her meal from the microwave and sat down in a rickety chair that wobbled with every moment she made. After digging through papers and cartons from cigarettes, she found a clean fork and began to eat with it. The entire time the small family ate, they were completely silent. Ryan finished first and tossed her dirty fork into the trash-filled sink. Then she reached over to the ancient fridge and took out a can of soda.

"You'll rot your teeth," her mother warned her.

"Then I'll be exactly like you," Ryan said. Both of her parents looked at her with glares, but didn't say anything. Ryan set the can down on the table and rubbed her fingers against her teeth. They weren't rotting anytime soon. "Um, today at school I got in trouble. The cops searched my locker and found a lighter. Then they searched me and found a pack of cigarettes." She looked up from the spot she was staring at and saw the angry expressions on her parents' faces. "They were going to fine me, but seeing as they've fined me so many times, I've got a court date in a week, Thursday at nine. Not that you care, but I might get jail time because there's no doubt that I've been smoking. Some punk in the lower grades ratted out a bunch of kids he's seen around town smoking or drinking. At least they didn't catch me with booze I guess."

"Why, you little ingrate; you're only trouble for us! We give you a roof over your head, food, clothes, and how do you repay us?! Do you want us to get reported and for you to be put in some foster home? Is that what you want to happen?! It will happen, but do you actually want it?" my mother asked. She picked up a beer bottle and whipped it across the room; it shattered on the wall. Maybe she had aimed at me, but she was drunk, so how would I know?

"What the hell do you care as long as you get your booze and smokes? I covered for you and told them I bought them off some guy on the streets! I lied for you; I even made up a description of some guy who was selling cigarettes to minors. That's way more than you've ever done for me! Don't you worry; I covered your asses so you'd stay the wannabe parents that you are! A fricking piece of dirt has better parenting instincts than you!" Ryan yelled, frustrated with her parents. She hated them, they hated her. She didn't realize until she was done yelling that she was standing.

"Get out of my house! Get out of here now!" her mother yelled.

"Fine, it's not like I want to be here anyway!" Ryan screamed back. She ran to her tiny room and pulled an already packed backpack out from under her bed. She had it ready for an instance like this, should one ever arise. Luckily she was prepared; it made for a quick getaway.

"She's your daughter John, your responsibility as well. I can't do all the God damn work around here!" she heard her mother yell.

"I'm leaving and never coming back!" She yelled as she ran out the front door and down the sidewalk.

"Ryan, you get your ass back in this house right now!" her father screamed down the road as she ran. She heard the car start and then stall as he attempted to come after her. That bought her just enough time. He started it successfully as Ryan disappeared down the block and into the city park. By then, Ryan couldn't hear his screams and threats, or the loud clanging and rumbles of the car; all she heard were her thoughts and her feet pounding the pavement on the sidewalk…

Always being put down, told she couldn't do anything or ever would. Always being told she wouldn't amount to anything. It was drilled into Ryan's brain continuously that she was worthless, absolutely nobody and nothing. She didn't matter, people didn't care about her.

Ryan never heard a kind word in her life. She was always told no, never. Nothing positive was ever said about her by anyone. She was stuck in a cold place, never allowed out. All she wanted was to be free, but everyone told her no and held her back. She fought to break free, to get out. Always being told she couldn't, so she didn't.

It took her a while to figure out that she could run, and when she did, she was long, long gone…

Ryan never did look back… and no one cared.

Three weeks on her own came to an end when some cops busted her for stealing from a convenience store. Because she begged and pleaded, they didn't tell her parents they were keeping her at the jail. There was a notice out alerting people of her disappearance, but no one really cared. The police gave her food and water, a warm bed, and even gave her clean clothes. No one was ever that kind to her, but she knew it was their job. At least they didn't make her go home. Maybe they suspected her parents were cruel and didn't want to put her in a dangerous situation. But she knew that they knew it would only mean more work for them. They had to tell her parents she was safe though, but that was all.

The next day, she was woken up at six in the morning and was taken to the next town over for her court hearing. They'd added some charges to her case for not showing up, evading arrest, and stealing multiple times. She had no choice but to plead guilty right off the bat; Ryan didn't even get a lawyer.

"Ryan Jacobs," the judge said in a deep voice, "please step forward to the defendant's stand." The boy in front of her had just been found innocent and acquitted of all charges. He left after giving Ryan a thumbs-up and smile for good luck. She didn't smile back or anything, she simply nodded to show she understood.

"Ryan Jacobs, how do you plead?" the judge asked. His name was Patrick Norton, and he tried to give kids second or third chances before doing anything… drastic. Ryan hoped she wouldn't have to go back home.

"I'm guilty," she said bluntly. He looked shocked for a moment, but recovered.

"To all of the charges you plead guilty? There are numerous offenses here; smoking on school grounds, being in possession of both a lighter and cigarettes of school grounds, numerous accounts of stealing, missing a court date, evading arrest, and running away from home to name a few of them. You're sure that you're guilty of them all?"

"Well, yeah, I already said that I was guilty. I did every single last one of those things. I'm a criminal, a thief. Just please, don't send me home, but don't tell my parents that I told you that. Please, do anything you want to me, I just can't go back home. I'll kill myself if you make me go back there," Ryan said as she pleaded. She didn't put up a fake front; she looked dead serious, just like she meant to. The man standing at the plaintiff's stand was standing there with his mouth wide open. The judge seemed fairly shocked as well.

"Well then," the judge said as he composed himself. "Would you like to file any charges against your parents?"

"Nope, unless you can sue for being a lousy, deadbeat parent, they've done… nothing wrong," Ryan said. I can't believe I just lied for them; this is my chance to get them taken away! She thought.

"Okay, I'm going to take a ten minute recess and think this over. When I return, I'll let you know what is going to be the next step Miss Jacobs." With that, the judge stood and left out an oak door.

"Wait," Ryan said as he closed the door.

"There's more?" he asked in shock. She nodded her head and he returned to the room.

"I don't want them to ever find me; find some place in the middle of no where to send me. Make sure they wouldn't think of that place. Send me wherever, I don't care," Ryan said.

There was something about her the judge liked. Maybe it was the fiery spirit he could sense in her. He pitied her, just like the man at the plaintiff's stand.

The judge exited the room without another word and Ryan began to wait for the final verdict.

"Hi, Miss Jacobs, my name is John Kingston of Parker, Johnston, and Kingston Lawyer Agency. If you ever think of a career as a lawyer, come see us. Here's my card. You've got a real persuasive way and we like that. You'd make a swell lawyer," the plaintiff said. Ryan took the card and shoved it in the back pocket of her jeans. Later, she told herself, I can burn it if I have to.

"I've reached my verdict," the judge announced upon reentering. "Although, there wasn't very much left for me to decide- you were very specific Miss Jacobs- I did have some thinking to do. Now, I had a friend of mine do the research on this place for me, and then I checked it out myself. It is out in the middle of nowhere, just like you specified. Your parents, if they were to search for you, wouldn't even think of it. They would probably dismiss it quickly because of the description. It is a boys' only correctional facility. It is called Camp Green Lake. A bus is waiting for you outside. It will leave as soon as you are ready. Do you have anything you would like to bring with you?"

"Only what's in my backpack," Ryan said picking in up off the chair next to her and putting it on her back.

"Then you will be leaving immediately. Good luck, I believe that you will need it. One of my bailiffs will escort you there. It's a seventeen hour drive there, so it's best you leave right away."

"Thank you your honor," she said seriously.

"Oh, and Miss Jacobs," the judge said, "You'll be there for two-and-a-half years. When you're released, we'll discuss your next step."

If Ryan could smile, she would have. She was finally free. But it wasn't in her to smile, she had forgotten how to.

Finally she had gotten what she wanted more than anything in the entire world, her freedom. Finally, Ryan was going to experience wide open, blue skies and fresh air. For the first time in her entire life, Ryan was going to decide her own destiny, where she got in life.

Of course, it came at a cost for her; everything always comes at a cost. Ryan didn't exactly get to be totally free. She had to pay for her crimes, but that didn't matter. She was finally out of the horrid, brutal controlling relationship she had with her deadbeat parents. It was all over finally; it had only taken fifteen years of constant battering and suffering.

(Switch to First Person Point of View)

It took twelve hours to finally reach the middle of nowhere. In all directions, I could only see sandy desert. It didn't look too welcoming. There were telephone lines running alone the dirt road, but that was all. At one point I could swear they stopped, but suddenly picked up again without any sort of electrical plant. Maybe it was in my head, I thought. It was only the heat getting to me. Only twelve hours ago, back in Hell I'd been almost frozen wearing my hoodie and jeans. It was like I was in another world.

It was almost eight and the sky was already dark. Another twenty minutes passed and I was unable to see anything beyond my seat. There was a guard snoring loudly five seats in front of me. Of course, I was in a caged area; the entire back of the bus was separated from the driver and guard.

"We're going to stop for the night and continue with the last stretch tomorrow morning," the driver announced. I nodded lazily and rested my head against the cool window. The bus slowed and pulled off the road. When the engine stopped, it was pretty much completely silent except for the snores of the guard. He hadn't stirred at all for three hours.

"Do you have any water?" I asked the driver. He laughed at me.

"Nope, and get used to being thirsty. This is the desert Missy, not much water to spare out here," he told me. I frowned to myself and pulled my knees up to my chest. In those few minutes, the temperature had suddenly dropped and I was cold again. Slowly I drifted off to sleep, relieved to be free at last.

"Rise and shine girly, we'll be arriving at Green Lake in an hour. You'll want to be wide awake for this," the driver yelled. Slowly I opened my eyes, aware the bus was moving again, and that it was scorching hot once again. I reached into my backpack and pulled out a brush, running it quickly through my hair. I was angry at the fact the only shirt I had, besides my sweatshirt that I was wearing, was a long-sleeved hockey shirt. But, at least it's thin. Under the sweatshirt I was wearing a tank top, but I don't like myself enough to wear just that. My big, ugly sweatpants didn't cool me off either.

I stared out the window expecting to see barbed wired fences, big ugly brick buildings, a watchtower or two, and maybe some sort of patrol. None of that stuff ever appeared. Instead, I saw endless piles of dirt and holes, tents, and a few rundown wood buildings. When the bus finally stopped, dust settling around it, I felt uneasy for the first time since running away from home.

"Off the bus girlie," the guard said. I picked up my backpack and stepped through the gate, then down the steps into the scorching sun. A little dust formed around my feet. I slowly walked forward, the guard leading me. There were no other people and I strongly suspected the bus was going to leave me here to die.

"In here," the guard said, holding the door to one of the shacks open for me. I stepped inside, but instead of the shaded room being cooler, it was like an oven.

The room was small, just a small fridge, a desk, and a chair with a bulky man snoring in it. To the right were two slightly open doorways. One led to a bathroom, and the other seemed to hold a TV and bed from what I could see.

"Hey buddy, wake up," the guard said tossing a clipboard onto the littered desk. The man grunted and straightened up, mumbling to himself and scratching his large stomach. Now I saw the ugly sideburns he had, and a rattlesnake tattoo on the side of his neck. The guard sat in the only available chair; I was left standing.

"Who's this…?" he said, looking at my clipboard. He signed some papers, not saying anything else. "Have a fun trip back home," he told the guard. The guard stood and left without another word.

"So, your name is Ryan Jacobs, eh? And you have a fairly lengthy criminal record dating back to when you were… eleven. Well, my name is Mr. Sir, and I don't have a criminal record. I do, however, own this gun here for shooting yellow-spotted lizards. They're nasty buggers and will kill you. If you see one, run away. Now, you're to dig holes in the hot sun just like any other delinquent boy here, is that perfectly clear?" I nodded absently, biting my tongue in order to keep from laughing. I mean, come on, Mr. Sir?! To me, he just seems like a big bully, using his authority to boss everyone around and get what he wants. But still, using two names of "authority" to get his way? Mr. Sir cannot be an actual name, can it? I can only imagine him getting teased when at school or… anywhere else for that matter.

"So, we dig? Do we do anything else?" I asked. I mean, how could I dig constantly?

"Nope, just dig," Mr. Sir said. He reached into a drawer and pulled out a burlap sack, then ate a handful of sunflower seeds. "Want some?"

"Uh, no thanks," I said. If his grubby hands were reaching into that sack and touching every single seed, I didn't want anything to do with it.

"Right answer girl! I wouldn't give you anything anyway. All you get is what they serve in the Mess Hall," Mr. Sir said laughing. I didn't find it funny at all.

"What are we digging for? Is there some buried treasure or are we trying to get to China?" I asked curiously. He stopped laughing, dead serious again.

"Why… you're digging to build character! You take a bad boy… or girl, make them dig holes all day in the hot sun, and they become a good boy or girl," Mr. Sir said with many hand gesticulations.

"Wait, you said boy or girl, are there other girls here?!" I asked excitedly. He laughed again, and I knew what he was going to say to me next.

"You're the only female for about a hundred miles!" he said through gasps and spurts of laughter. I didn't find that too funny.

"You wanted to see me, Mr. Sir?" a short little man said as he walked into the oven… I mean room… walked into the room. I'm normal height, and this grown man was about four inches shorter than me. And I wasn't wearing my heels today. "Oh, is this a new recruit? Well hello, I'm Dr. Pendanski!"

"Uh, I'm Ryan," I said. The peppy little man was… too peppy. I thought he might explode as he shook my hand. Men his age, whatever that may be, should not have that much energy. And he was a doctor? I wasn't sure I wanted to know what kind; did they just hand out medical licenses or give random titles?

"Pendanski, get her a uniform and get the girl to D-tent. She'll be in there with the boys. I've gotta see the kitchen staff about something," Mr. Sir said. He disappeared out the door, holding his sunflower seeds in his hand.

"Well, Ryan, let's see. I'll be right back with your uniforms, so take a seat right there and just hang on for a few minutes." The man disappeared and I sat down in a rickety chair, but at least it didn't threaten to break like the ones back home. I stared around the room, already bored with life her at Camp Green Lake.

It was then I spotted them… the cigarettes. A whole stash of them probably meant to be hidden. And no one was in the room… Just taking one pack from that drawer wouldn't hurt. I was all alone no one would know. One pack wasn't that much. It looked like there must be about a hundred packs there easily, and not even cheap cigarettes like I was used to. This was like looking for a hidden treasure you buried, but striking oil in your backyard instead. Who would catch me?

No one would notice I decided. I stood up, and walked over to the drawer, opening it fully. I felt like I had hit the jackpot without having to buy a ticket. This was my treasure. I'd take just one pack, smoke one cigarette every few days. Already I had gone twelve days without a single smoke. It was possible, I could definitely do this. I took the single pack and put it in the big pocket on the front of my hoodie. Then I quickly slammed the drawer shut and sat back down as Pendanski returned to the room.

"Okay Ryan, this is your uniform you will be required to wear. You get two and every other day your work outfit will be washed. If you would like, you may change in the bathroom and I'll wait out here," Pendanski said.

"Oh thank you so much," I said sarcastically. The clothes felt starchy, you know that hard feeling? It feels like soap was left on them. It made itchy clothes even worse. And they smelled funny; not dirty, but soapy. Someone needs to learn how to wash clothing properly, and that someone is not me. I can do my own laundry very well.

I stepped into the bathroom and pulled the clothes on over my sweatpants. I took off the hoodie, buttoned the ugly orange jumpsuit up, and replaced the hoodie. Then I hid the cigarettes in one of the big pockets on the orange jumpsuit. I quickly ran my fingers through my hair, putting it in a loose ponytail. When I stepped out of the bathroom, Pendanski began to laugh at me.

"What's so funny?" I asked; a look of shock and confusion probably on my face.

"You look about ready for a snowstorm! Too bad that won't ever happen; it hasn't even rained here since the Warden's granddaddy was a young man!" Okay, but why is that so funny.

"Okay, hahaha, that's funny alright," I said; I wasn't very amused by that.

"Well, let's go get you settled in before the boys come back. They'll be in for quite a surprise. We found out you were arriving for sure this morning and didn't tell them yet," Pendanski said. I lifted the backpack onto my shoulder and followed him into the afternoon heat. The sun was almost directly overhead, there were no clouds, and it was extremely hot.

"So about how many boys are here?" I asked. Looking around, I didn't see any signs at all of boys living here.

"Well, we have five tents and each tent has seven or eight boys. Then we have a work staff in the kitchens of fifteen other boys. That's between fifty and fifty-five boys. There are five leaders, including me, and there is Mr. Sir. But you and the Warden are the only females here, but you'll only see her when you're in trouble or something really good happens," the doctor said. By this point, we'd passed by three of the tents and were entering D-tent.

"So I'm not the only girl here?" I asked hopefully.

"Oh, well you are. The Warden left on some business just last week and that may take her a few more months. For now, Mr. Sir runs the place," Pendanski explained. "This will be your bunk; you get one crate for all of your belongings to go in. You're not the only thief here missy, remember that." I dropped my backpack on my bed and sat down. There was a thin sheet on top of a lumpy mattress that smelled a lot like sour milk.

"So that's it right? I'll wait here for the boys I guess. You can go away now. Bye," I said. I stood up as soon as the short man left, watching out the tent flap as he walked away.

I quickly went back to my bag and emptied everything out on the stinky cot. I picked through all the things I had in there; the things I had lived off of when I ran away. I picked out all of the valuables that were in my bag, the stuff I didn't want stolen or to be seen by anyone. I placed my clothes in the crate, completely filling it up so that it threatened to overflow. The rest of the things went on my bed in a pile: CDs, walkman, MP3 player, three lighters, six full and one partially empty book of matches, and ten packs of Nicorette gum, twenty-three bucks, a pocket knife, and boxes of pads and tampons. I had stolen all of it. I added the single carton of stolen cigarettes to the pile as well. I shoveled it all into the backpack and zipped it up safely. Now I had to hide it…

Luckily for me, I'd noticed one thing: the tents were raised off of the ground about a foot and was boarded up so nothing could get underneath. The floor was a bunch of two-by-fours or something like that; an unfinished wood floor that posed the risk of giving someone a nasty, unforgiving splinter or two. I walked outside the tent into the blistering heat, and picked up a large rock off the ground; it probably served some purpose, but I didn't see what that was. It probably weighed about fifteen, twenty, twenty-five pounds or more. Looking around, I saw no one else was around yet; no boys in sight, no Pendanski, no Mr. Sir, nobody at all. I carried it back into the tent and placed it carefully on my cot. I slid my cot over and picked the rock up again. I raised the rock above my head and let it drop on the wood floor. A large dent formed where it hit, a small crevice branching out from it. I picked it up and dropped it once again, the board now breaking off.

"Oops," I said with a giggle, a smiling breaking out across my face. I shoved the bag into the hole and replaced the splinters and chunks of wood so the hole was completely covered. Then I moved my cot back and tossed the rock outside the tent flap.

"Now to rest up before the icky boys arrive," I said to myself, lying down on the cot and closing my eyes.

(A/N 2: One question (I'll do questions at the end of every chapter). Continue or no? Alright, I told a little lie, one more question. Should this be a romance, and if so, who should Ryan fall in love with? Thanks, review! I'll return the favor as soon as I can! The more reviews, maybe more incentive to continue… We'll say between 7 and 10 reviews and then I'll update this...?)

(A/N 3: Anyone reading "Roses are Red," don't worry. I will. The CD that is saved on has been left at my Nonni and Nonno's house (Italian grandparents) in Maine. I live in Massachusetts almost three-and-a-half hours away. I only go up there once a month on my Dad's weekend. That would be this coming weekend, but I'm on crutches and have a bulky cast, so we aren't going. Maybe they'll mail it, but they don't wanna lose it on me. I'll get it soon I hope. I'll try and update that story soon though. Sorry about that.)