5
There were six large gray tents, and each one had a black letter on it: A, B, C, D, E, or F. The first five
tents were for the campers. The counselors slept in F.
Stanley was assigned to D tent. Mr. Pendanski was his counselor.
"My name is easy to remember," said Mr. Pendanski as he shook hands with Stanley just outside the
tent. "Three easy words: pen, dance, key."
Mr. Sir returned to the office.
Mr. Pendanski was younger than Mr. Sir, and not nearly as scary looking. The top of his head was
shaved so close it was almost bald, but his face was covered in a thick curly black beard. His nose was
badly sunburned.
"Mr. Sir isn't really so bad," said Mr. Pendanski. "He's just been in a bad mood ever since he quit
smoking. The person you've got to worry about is the Warden. There's really only one rule at Camp
Green Lake: Don't upset the Warden."
Stanley nodded, as if he understood.
"I want you to know, Stanley, that I respect you," Mr. Pendanski said. "I understand you've made some
bad mistakes in your life. Otherwise you wouldn't be here. But everyone makes mistakes. You may have
done some bad things, but that doesn't mean you're a bad kid."
Stanley nodded. It seemed pointless to try and tell his counselor that he was innocent. He figured that
everyone probably said that. He didn't want Mr. Pen-dance-key to think he had a bad attitude.
"I'm going to help you turn your life around," said his counselor. "But you're going to have to help, too.
Can I count on your help?"
"Yes, sir," Stanley said.
Mr. Pendanski said, "Good," and patted Stanley on the back.
Two boys, each carrying a shovel, were coming across the compound. Mr. Pendanski called to them.
"Rex! Alan! I want you to come say hello to Stanley. He's the newest member of our team."
The boys glanced wearily at Stanley.
They were dripping with sweat, and their faces were so dirty that it took Stanley a moment to notice that
one kid was white and the other black.
"What happened to Barf Bag?" asked the black kid.
"Lewis is still in the hospital," said Mr. Pendanski. "He won't be returning." He told the boys to come
shake Stanley's hand and introduce themselves, "like gentlemen."
"Hi," the white kid grunted.
"That's Alan," said Mr. Pendanski.
"My name's not Alan," the boy said. "It's Squid. And that's X-Ray."
"Hey," said X-Ray. He smiled and shook Stanley's hand. He wore glasses, but they were so dirty that
Stanley wondered how he could see out of them.
Mr. Pendanski told Alan to go to the Rec Hall and bring the other boys to meet Stanley. Then he led him
inside the tent.
There were seven cots, each one less than two feet from the one next to it.
"Which was Lewis's cot?" Mr. Pendanski asked.
"Barf Bag slept here," said X-Ray, kicking at one of the beds.
"All right, Stanley, that'll be yours," said Mr. Pendanski.
Stanley looked at the cot and nodded. He wasn't particularly thrilled about sleeping in the same cot that
had been used by somebody named Barf Bag.
Seven crates were stacked in two piles at one side of the tent. The open end of the crates faced
outward. Stanley put his backpack, change of clothes, and towel in what used to be Barf Bag's crate. It
was at the bottom of the stack that had three in it.
Squid returned with four other boys. The first three were introduced by Mr. Pendanski as Jose,
Theodore, and Ricky. They called themselves Magnet, Armpit, and Zigzag.
"They all have nicknames," explained Mr. Pendanski. "However, I prefer to use the names their parents
gave them—the names that society will recognize them by when they return to become useful and
hardworking members of society."
"It ain't just a nickname," X-Ray told Mr. Pendanski. He tapped the rim of his glasses. "I can see inside
you, Mom. You've got a big fat heart."
The last boy either didn't have a real name or else he didn't have a nickname. Both Mr. Pendanski and
X-Ray called him Zero.
"You know why his name's Zero?" asked Mr. Pendanski. "Because there's nothing inside his head." He
smiled and playfully shook Zero's shoulder.
Zero said nothing.
"And that's Mom!" a boy said.
Mr. Pendanski smiled at him. "If it makes you feel better to call me Mom, Theodore, go ahead and call
me Mom." He turned to Stanley. "If you have questions, Theodore will help you. You got that,
Theodore. I'm depending on you."
Theodore spit a thin line of saliva between his teeth, causing some of the other boys to complain about
the need to keep their "home" sanitary.
"You were all new here once," said Mr. Pendanski, "and you all know what it feels like. I'm counting on
every one of you to help Stanley."
Stanley looked at the ground.
Mr. Pendanski left the tent, and soon the other boys began to file out as well, taking their towels and
change of clothes with them. Stanley was relieved to be left alone, but he was so thirsty he felt as if he
would die if he didn't get something to drink soon.
"Hey, uh, Theodore," he said, going after him. "Do you know where I can fill my canteen?"
Theodore whirled and grabbed Stanley by his collar. "My name's not Thee-o-dore," he said. "It's
Armpit." He threw Stanley to the ground.
Stanley stared up at him, terrified.
"There's a water spigot on the wall of the shower stall."
"Thanks . . . Armpit," said Stanley.
As he watched the boy turn and walk away, he couldn't for the life of him figure out why anyone would
want to be called Armpit.
In a way, it made him feel a little better about having to sleep in a cot that had been used by somebody
named Barf Bag. Maybe it was a term of respect.
Showing posts with label Louis Sachar. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Louis Sachar. Show all posts
Sunday, 8 September 2019
Chapter 4
4
Stanley felt somewhat dazed as the guard unlocked his handcuffs and led him off the bus. He'd been on
the bus for over eight hours.
"Be careful," the bus driver said as Stanley walked down the steps.
Stanley wasn't sure if the bus driver meant for him to be careful going down the steps, or if he was telling
him to be careful at Camp Green Lake. "Thanks for the ride," he said. His mouth was dry and his throat
hurt. He stepped onto the hard, dry dirt. There was a band of sweat around his wrist where the handcuff
had been.
The land was barren and desolate. He could see a few rundown buildings and some tents. Farther away
there was a cabin beneath two tall trees. Those two trees were the only plant life he could see. There
weren't even weeds.
The guard led Stanley to a small building. A sign on front said, YOU ARE ENTERING CAMP
GREEN LAKE JUVENILE CORRECTIONAL FACILITY. Next to it was another sign which
declared that it was a violation of the Texas Penal Code to bring guns, explosives, weapons, drugs, or
alcohol onto the premises.
As Stanley read the sign he couldn't help but think, Well, duh!
The guard led Stanley into the building, where he felt the welcome relief of air-conditioning.
A man was sitting with his feet up on a desk. He turned his head when Stanley and the guard entered,
but otherwise didn't move. Even though he was inside, he wore sunglasses and a cowboy hat. He also
held a can of soda, and the sight of it made Stanley even more aware of his own thirst.
He waited while the bus guard gave the man some papers to sign.
"That's a lot of sunflower seeds," the bus guard said
Stanley noticed a burlap sack filled with sunflower seeds on the floor next to the desk.
"I quit smoking last month," said the man in the cowboy hat. He had a tattoo of a rattlesnake on his arm,
and as he signed his name, the snake's rattle seemed to wiggle "I used to smoke a pack a day. Now I eat
a sack of these every week "
The guard laughed.
There must have been a small refrigerator behind his desk, because the man in the cowboy hat produced
two more cans of soda. For a second Stanley hoped that one might be for him, but the man gave one to
the guard and said the other was for the driver.
"Nine hours here, and now nine hours back," the guard grumbled. "What a day."
Stanley thought about the long, miserable bus ride and felt a little sorry for the guard and the bus driver.
The man in the cowboy hat spit sunflower seed shells into a wastepaper basket. Then he walked around
the desk to Stanley. "My name is Mr. Sir," he said "Whenever you speak to me you must call me by my
name, is that clear?"
Stanley hesitated. "Uh, yes, Mr. Sir," he said, though he couldn't imagine that was really the man's name.
"You're not in the Girl Scouts anymore," Mr. Sir said.
Stanley had to remove his clothes in front of Mr. Sir, who made sure he wasn't hiding anything. He was
then given two sets of clothes and a towel. Each set consisted of a long-sleeve orange jumpsuit, an
orange T-shirt, and yellow socks. Stanley wasn't sure if the socks had been yellow originally.
He was also given white sneakers, an orange cap, and a canteen made of heavy plastic, which
unfortunately was empty. The cap had a piece of cloth sewn on the back of it, for neck protection.
Stanley got dressed. The clothes smelled like soap.
Mr. Sir told him he should wear one set to work in and one set for relaxation. Laundry was done every
three days. On that day his work clothes would be washed. Then the other set would become his work
clothes, and he would get clean clothes to wear while resting.
"You are to dig one hole each day, including Saturdays and Sundays. Each hole must be five feet deep,
and five feet across in every direction. Your shovel is your measuring stick. Breakfast is served at 4:30."
Stanley must have looked surprised, because Mr. Sir went on to explain that they started early to avoid
the hottest part of the day. "No one is going to baby-sit you," he added. "The longer it takes you to dig,
the longer you will be out in the sun. If you dig up anything interesting, you are to report it to me or any
other counselor. When you finish, the rest of the day is yours."
Stanley nodded to show he understood.
"This isn't a Girl Scout camp," said Mr. Sir.
He checked Stanley's backpack and allowed him to keep it. Then he led Stanley outside into the blazing
heat.
"Take a good look around you," Mr. Sir said. "What do you see?"
Stanley looked out across the vast wasteland. The air seemed thick with heat and dirt. "Not much," he
said, then hastily added, "Mr. Sir."
Mr. Sir laughed. "You see any guard towers?"
"No."
"How about an electric fence?"
"No, Mr. Sir."
"There's no fence at all, is there?"
"No, Mr. Sir."
"You want to run away?" Mr. Sir asked him.
Stanley looked back at him, unsure what he meant.
"If you want to run away, go ahead, start running. I'm not going to stop you."
Stanley didn't know what kind of game Mr. Sir was playing.
"I see you're looking at my gun. Don't worry. I'm not going to shoot you." He tapped his holster. "This is
for yellow-spotted lizards. I wouldn't waste a bullet on you."
"I'm not going to run away," Stanley said.
"Good thinking," said Mr. Sir. "Nobody runs away from here. We don't need a fence. Know why?
Because we've got the only water for a hundred miles. You want to run away? You'll be buzzard food in
three days."
Stanley could see some kids dressed in orange and carrying shovels dragging themselves toward the
tents.
"You thirsty?" asked Mr. Sir.
"Yes, Mr. Sir," Stanley said gratefully.
"Well, you better get used to it. You're going to be thirsty for the next eighteen months."
Stanley felt somewhat dazed as the guard unlocked his handcuffs and led him off the bus. He'd been on
the bus for over eight hours.
"Be careful," the bus driver said as Stanley walked down the steps.
Stanley wasn't sure if the bus driver meant for him to be careful going down the steps, or if he was telling
him to be careful at Camp Green Lake. "Thanks for the ride," he said. His mouth was dry and his throat
hurt. He stepped onto the hard, dry dirt. There was a band of sweat around his wrist where the handcuff
had been.
The land was barren and desolate. He could see a few rundown buildings and some tents. Farther away
there was a cabin beneath two tall trees. Those two trees were the only plant life he could see. There
weren't even weeds.
The guard led Stanley to a small building. A sign on front said, YOU ARE ENTERING CAMP
GREEN LAKE JUVENILE CORRECTIONAL FACILITY. Next to it was another sign which
declared that it was a violation of the Texas Penal Code to bring guns, explosives, weapons, drugs, or
alcohol onto the premises.
As Stanley read the sign he couldn't help but think, Well, duh!
The guard led Stanley into the building, where he felt the welcome relief of air-conditioning.
A man was sitting with his feet up on a desk. He turned his head when Stanley and the guard entered,
but otherwise didn't move. Even though he was inside, he wore sunglasses and a cowboy hat. He also
held a can of soda, and the sight of it made Stanley even more aware of his own thirst.
He waited while the bus guard gave the man some papers to sign.
"That's a lot of sunflower seeds," the bus guard said
Stanley noticed a burlap sack filled with sunflower seeds on the floor next to the desk.
"I quit smoking last month," said the man in the cowboy hat. He had a tattoo of a rattlesnake on his arm,
and as he signed his name, the snake's rattle seemed to wiggle "I used to smoke a pack a day. Now I eat
a sack of these every week "
The guard laughed.
There must have been a small refrigerator behind his desk, because the man in the cowboy hat produced
two more cans of soda. For a second Stanley hoped that one might be for him, but the man gave one to
the guard and said the other was for the driver.
"Nine hours here, and now nine hours back," the guard grumbled. "What a day."
Stanley thought about the long, miserable bus ride and felt a little sorry for the guard and the bus driver.
The man in the cowboy hat spit sunflower seed shells into a wastepaper basket. Then he walked around
the desk to Stanley. "My name is Mr. Sir," he said "Whenever you speak to me you must call me by my
name, is that clear?"
Stanley hesitated. "Uh, yes, Mr. Sir," he said, though he couldn't imagine that was really the man's name.
"You're not in the Girl Scouts anymore," Mr. Sir said.
Stanley had to remove his clothes in front of Mr. Sir, who made sure he wasn't hiding anything. He was
then given two sets of clothes and a towel. Each set consisted of a long-sleeve orange jumpsuit, an
orange T-shirt, and yellow socks. Stanley wasn't sure if the socks had been yellow originally.
He was also given white sneakers, an orange cap, and a canteen made of heavy plastic, which
unfortunately was empty. The cap had a piece of cloth sewn on the back of it, for neck protection.
Stanley got dressed. The clothes smelled like soap.
Mr. Sir told him he should wear one set to work in and one set for relaxation. Laundry was done every
three days. On that day his work clothes would be washed. Then the other set would become his work
clothes, and he would get clean clothes to wear while resting.
"You are to dig one hole each day, including Saturdays and Sundays. Each hole must be five feet deep,
and five feet across in every direction. Your shovel is your measuring stick. Breakfast is served at 4:30."
Stanley must have looked surprised, because Mr. Sir went on to explain that they started early to avoid
the hottest part of the day. "No one is going to baby-sit you," he added. "The longer it takes you to dig,
the longer you will be out in the sun. If you dig up anything interesting, you are to report it to me or any
other counselor. When you finish, the rest of the day is yours."
Stanley nodded to show he understood.
"This isn't a Girl Scout camp," said Mr. Sir.
He checked Stanley's backpack and allowed him to keep it. Then he led Stanley outside into the blazing
heat.
"Take a good look around you," Mr. Sir said. "What do you see?"
Stanley looked out across the vast wasteland. The air seemed thick with heat and dirt. "Not much," he
said, then hastily added, "Mr. Sir."
Mr. Sir laughed. "You see any guard towers?"
"No."
"How about an electric fence?"
"No, Mr. Sir."
"There's no fence at all, is there?"
"No, Mr. Sir."
"You want to run away?" Mr. Sir asked him.
Stanley looked back at him, unsure what he meant.
"If you want to run away, go ahead, start running. I'm not going to stop you."
Stanley didn't know what kind of game Mr. Sir was playing.
"I see you're looking at my gun. Don't worry. I'm not going to shoot you." He tapped his holster. "This is
for yellow-spotted lizards. I wouldn't waste a bullet on you."
"I'm not going to run away," Stanley said.
"Good thinking," said Mr. Sir. "Nobody runs away from here. We don't need a fence. Know why?
Because we've got the only water for a hundred miles. You want to run away? You'll be buzzard food in
three days."
Stanley could see some kids dressed in orange and carrying shovels dragging themselves toward the
tents.
"You thirsty?" asked Mr. Sir.
"Yes, Mr. Sir," Stanley said gratefully.
"Well, you better get used to it. You're going to be thirsty for the next eighteen months."
Chapter 2 3 - Holes
2
The reader is probably asking: Why would anyone go to Camp Green Lake?
Most campers weren't given a choice. Camp Green Lake is a camp for bad boys.
If you take a bad boy and make him dig a hole every day in the hot sun, it will turn him into a good boy.
That was what some people thought.
Stanley Yelnats was given a choice. The judge said, "You may go to jail, or you may go to Camp Green
Lake."
Stanley was from a poor family. He had never been to camp before.
3
Stanley Yelnats was the only passenger on the bus, not counting the driver or the guard The guard sat
next to the driver with his seat turned around facing Stanley A rifle lay across his lap
Stanley was sitting about ten rows back, handcuffed to his armrest His backpack lay on the seat next to
him It contained his toothbrush, toothpaste, and a box of stationery his mother had given him He'd
promised to write to her at least once a week.
He looked out the window, although there wasn't much to see—mostly fields of hay and cotton. He was
on a long bus ride to nowhere The bus wasn't air-conditioned, and the hot, heavy air was almost as
stifling as the handcuffs.
Stanley and his parents had tried to pretend that he was just going away to camp for a while, just like
rich kids do. When Stanley was younger he used to play with stuffed animals, and pretend the animals
were at camp. Camp Fun and Games he called it. Sometimes he'd have them play soccer with a marble.
Other times they'd run an obstacle course, or go bungee jumping off a table, tied to broken rubber
bands. Now Stanley tried to pretend he was going to Camp Fun and Games Maybe he'd make some
friends, he thought. At least he'd get to swim in the lake.
He didn't have any friends at home. He was overweight and the kids at his middle school often teased
him about his size. Even his teachers sometimes made cruel comments without realizing it. On his last day
of school, his math teacher, Mrs Bell, taught ratios. As an example, she chose the heaviest kid in the class
and the lightest kid m the class, and had them weigh themselves. Stanley weighed three times as much as
the other boy Mrs. Bell wrote the ratio on the board, 3:1, unaware of how much embarrassment she had
caused both of them.
Stanley was arrested later that day.
He looked at the guard who sat slumped in his seat and wondered if he had fallen asleep. The guard was
wearing sunglasses, so Stanley couldn't see his eyes.
Stanley was not a bad kid. He was innocent of the crime for which he was convicted He'd just been in
the wrong place at the wrong time.
It was all because of his no-good-dirty-rotten-pig-stealing-great-great-grandfather!
He smiled. It was a family joke. Whenever anything went wrong, they always blamed Stanley's
no-good-dirty-rotten-pig-stealing-great-great-grandfather.
Supposedly, he had a great-great-grandfather who had stolen a pig from a one-legged Gypsy, and she
put a curse on him and all his descendants. Stanley and his parents didn't believe in curses, of course, but
whenever anything went wrong, it felt good to be able to blame someone
Things went wrong a lot. They always seemed to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.
He looked out the window at the vast emptiness. He watched the rise and fall of a telephone wire. In his
mind he could hear his father's gruff voice softly singing to him
"If only, if only," the woodpecker sighs,
"The bark on the tree was just a little bit softer."
While the wolf waits below, hungry and lonely,
He cries to the moo—oo—oon,
"If only, if only."
It was a song his father used to sing to him. The melody was sweet and sad, but Stanley's favorite part
was when his father would howl the word "moon "
The bus hit a small bump and the guard sat up, instantly alert.
Stanley's father was an inventor. To be a successful inventor you need three things: intelligence,
perseverance, and just a little bit of luck.
Stanley's father was smart and had a lot of perseverance. Once he started a project he would work on it
for years, often going days without sleep. He just never had any luck.
Every time an experiment failed, Stanley could hear him cursing his
dirty-rotten-pig-stealing-great-grandfather.
Stanley's father was also named Stanley Yelnats. Stanley's father's full name was Stanley Yelnats III.
Our Stanley is Stanley Yelnats IV.
Everyone in his family had always liked the fact that "Stanley Yelnats" was spelled the same frontward
and backward. So they kept naming their sons Stanley. Stanley was an only child, as was every other
Stanley Yelnats before him.
All of them had something else in common. Despite their awful luck, they always remained hopeful. As
Stanley's father liked to say, "I learn from failure."
But perhaps that was part of the curse as well. If Stanley and his father weren't always hopeful, then it
wouldn't hurt so much every time their hopes were crushed.
"Not every Stanley Yelnats has been a failure," Stanley's mother often pointed out, whenever Stanley or
his father became so discouraged that they actually started to believe in the curse. The first Stanley
Yelnats, Stanley's great-grandfather, had made a fortune m the stock market. "He couldn't have been too
unlucky."
At such times she neglected to mention the bad luck that befell the first Stanley Yelnats. He lost his entire
fortune when he was moving from New York to California. His stagecoach was robbed by the outlaw
Kissin' Kate Barlow.
If it weren't for that, Stanley's family would now be living in a mansion on a beach in California. Instead,
they were crammed in a tiny apartment that smelled of burning rubber and foot odor.
If only, if only . . .
The apartment smelled the way it did because Stanley's father was trying to invent a way to recycle old
sneakers. "The first person who finds a use for old sneakers," he said, "will be a very rich man."
It was this latest project that led to Stanley's arrest.
The bus ride became increasingly bumpy because the road was no longer paved.
Actually, Stanley had been impressed when he first found out that his great-grandfather was robbed by
Kissin' Kate Barlow. True, he would have preferred living on the beach in California, but it was still kind
of cool to have someone in your family robbed by a famous outlaw.
Kate Barlow didn't actually kiss Stanley's great-grandfather. That would have been really cool, but she
only kissed the men she killed. Instead, she robbed him and left him stranded in the middle of the desert.
"He was lucky to have survived," Stanley's mother was quick to point out.
The bus was slowing down. The guard grunted as he stretched his arms.
"Welcome to Camp Green Lake," said the driver.
Stanley looked out the dirty window. He couldn't see a lake.
And hardly anything was green.
The reader is probably asking: Why would anyone go to Camp Green Lake?
Most campers weren't given a choice. Camp Green Lake is a camp for bad boys.
If you take a bad boy and make him dig a hole every day in the hot sun, it will turn him into a good boy.
That was what some people thought.
Stanley Yelnats was given a choice. The judge said, "You may go to jail, or you may go to Camp Green
Lake."
Stanley was from a poor family. He had never been to camp before.
3
Stanley Yelnats was the only passenger on the bus, not counting the driver or the guard The guard sat
next to the driver with his seat turned around facing Stanley A rifle lay across his lap
Stanley was sitting about ten rows back, handcuffed to his armrest His backpack lay on the seat next to
him It contained his toothbrush, toothpaste, and a box of stationery his mother had given him He'd
promised to write to her at least once a week.
He looked out the window, although there wasn't much to see—mostly fields of hay and cotton. He was
on a long bus ride to nowhere The bus wasn't air-conditioned, and the hot, heavy air was almost as
stifling as the handcuffs.
Stanley and his parents had tried to pretend that he was just going away to camp for a while, just like
rich kids do. When Stanley was younger he used to play with stuffed animals, and pretend the animals
were at camp. Camp Fun and Games he called it. Sometimes he'd have them play soccer with a marble.
Other times they'd run an obstacle course, or go bungee jumping off a table, tied to broken rubber
bands. Now Stanley tried to pretend he was going to Camp Fun and Games Maybe he'd make some
friends, he thought. At least he'd get to swim in the lake.
He didn't have any friends at home. He was overweight and the kids at his middle school often teased
him about his size. Even his teachers sometimes made cruel comments without realizing it. On his last day
of school, his math teacher, Mrs Bell, taught ratios. As an example, she chose the heaviest kid in the class
and the lightest kid m the class, and had them weigh themselves. Stanley weighed three times as much as
the other boy Mrs. Bell wrote the ratio on the board, 3:1, unaware of how much embarrassment she had
caused both of them.
Stanley was arrested later that day.
He looked at the guard who sat slumped in his seat and wondered if he had fallen asleep. The guard was
wearing sunglasses, so Stanley couldn't see his eyes.
Stanley was not a bad kid. He was innocent of the crime for which he was convicted He'd just been in
the wrong place at the wrong time.
It was all because of his no-good-dirty-rotten-pig-stealing-great-great-grandfather!
He smiled. It was a family joke. Whenever anything went wrong, they always blamed Stanley's
no-good-dirty-rotten-pig-stealing-great-great-grandfather.
Supposedly, he had a great-great-grandfather who had stolen a pig from a one-legged Gypsy, and she
put a curse on him and all his descendants. Stanley and his parents didn't believe in curses, of course, but
whenever anything went wrong, it felt good to be able to blame someone
Things went wrong a lot. They always seemed to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.
He looked out the window at the vast emptiness. He watched the rise and fall of a telephone wire. In his
mind he could hear his father's gruff voice softly singing to him
"If only, if only," the woodpecker sighs,
"The bark on the tree was just a little bit softer."
While the wolf waits below, hungry and lonely,
He cries to the moo—oo—oon,
"If only, if only."
It was a song his father used to sing to him. The melody was sweet and sad, but Stanley's favorite part
was when his father would howl the word "moon "
The bus hit a small bump and the guard sat up, instantly alert.
Stanley's father was an inventor. To be a successful inventor you need three things: intelligence,
perseverance, and just a little bit of luck.
Stanley's father was smart and had a lot of perseverance. Once he started a project he would work on it
for years, often going days without sleep. He just never had any luck.
Every time an experiment failed, Stanley could hear him cursing his
dirty-rotten-pig-stealing-great-grandfather.
Stanley's father was also named Stanley Yelnats. Stanley's father's full name was Stanley Yelnats III.
Our Stanley is Stanley Yelnats IV.
Everyone in his family had always liked the fact that "Stanley Yelnats" was spelled the same frontward
and backward. So they kept naming their sons Stanley. Stanley was an only child, as was every other
Stanley Yelnats before him.
All of them had something else in common. Despite their awful luck, they always remained hopeful. As
Stanley's father liked to say, "I learn from failure."
But perhaps that was part of the curse as well. If Stanley and his father weren't always hopeful, then it
wouldn't hurt so much every time their hopes were crushed.
"Not every Stanley Yelnats has been a failure," Stanley's mother often pointed out, whenever Stanley or
his father became so discouraged that they actually started to believe in the curse. The first Stanley
Yelnats, Stanley's great-grandfather, had made a fortune m the stock market. "He couldn't have been too
unlucky."
At such times she neglected to mention the bad luck that befell the first Stanley Yelnats. He lost his entire
fortune when he was moving from New York to California. His stagecoach was robbed by the outlaw
Kissin' Kate Barlow.
If it weren't for that, Stanley's family would now be living in a mansion on a beach in California. Instead,
they were crammed in a tiny apartment that smelled of burning rubber and foot odor.
If only, if only . . .
The apartment smelled the way it did because Stanley's father was trying to invent a way to recycle old
sneakers. "The first person who finds a use for old sneakers," he said, "will be a very rich man."
It was this latest project that led to Stanley's arrest.
The bus ride became increasingly bumpy because the road was no longer paved.
Actually, Stanley had been impressed when he first found out that his great-grandfather was robbed by
Kissin' Kate Barlow. True, he would have preferred living on the beach in California, but it was still kind
of cool to have someone in your family robbed by a famous outlaw.
Kate Barlow didn't actually kiss Stanley's great-grandfather. That would have been really cool, but she
only kissed the men she killed. Instead, she robbed him and left him stranded in the middle of the desert.
"He was lucky to have survived," Stanley's mother was quick to point out.
The bus was slowing down. The guard grunted as he stretched his arms.
"Welcome to Camp Green Lake," said the driver.
Stanley looked out the dirty window. He couldn't see a lake.
And hardly anything was green.
Chapter 1 Holes
Holes Book
There is no lake at Camp Green Lake. There once was a very large lake here, the largest lake in Texas.That was over a hundred years ago. Now it is just a dry, flat wasteland.
There used to be a town of Green Lake as well. The town shriveled and dried up along with the lake,
and the people who lived there.
During the summer the daytime temperature hovers around ninety-five degrees in the shade—if you can
find any shade. There's not much shade in a big dry lake.
The only trees are two old oaks on the eastern edge of the "lake." A hammock is stretched between the
two trees, and a log cabin stands behind that.
The campers are forbidden to lie in the hammock. It belongs to the Warden. The Warden owns the
shade.
Out on the lake, rattlesnakes and scorpions find shade under rocks and in the holes dug by the campers.
Here's a good rule to remember about rattlesnakes and scorpions: If you don't bother them, they won't
bother you.
Usually.
Being bitten by a scorpion or even a rattlesnake is not the worst thing that can happen to you. You won't
die.
Usually.
Sometimes a camper will try to be bitten by a scorpion, or even a small rattlesnake. Then he will get to
spend a day or two recovering in his tent, instead of having to dig a hole out on the lake
But you don't want to be bitten by a yellow-spotted lizard. That's the worst thing that can happen to you.
You will die a slow and painful death.
Always.
If you get bitten by a yellow-spotted lizard, you might as well go into the shade of the oak trees and lie in
the hammock.
There is nothing anyone can do to you anymore.
and the people who lived there.
During the summer the daytime temperature hovers around ninety-five degrees in the shade—if you can
find any shade. There's not much shade in a big dry lake.
The only trees are two old oaks on the eastern edge of the "lake." A hammock is stretched between the
two trees, and a log cabin stands behind that.
The campers are forbidden to lie in the hammock. It belongs to the Warden. The Warden owns the
shade.
Out on the lake, rattlesnakes and scorpions find shade under rocks and in the holes dug by the campers.
Here's a good rule to remember about rattlesnakes and scorpions: If you don't bother them, they won't
bother you.
Usually.
Being bitten by a scorpion or even a rattlesnake is not the worst thing that can happen to you. You won't
die.
Usually.
Sometimes a camper will try to be bitten by a scorpion, or even a small rattlesnake. Then he will get to
spend a day or two recovering in his tent, instead of having to dig a hole out on the lake
But you don't want to be bitten by a yellow-spotted lizard. That's the worst thing that can happen to you.
You will die a slow and painful death.
Always.
If you get bitten by a yellow-spotted lizard, you might as well go into the shade of the oak trees and lie in
the hammock.
There is nothing anyone can do to you anymore.
Thursday, 22 August 2019
Louis Sachar
In reading my group Tiki is reading a book about a writer Louis Sachar. This person is famous for the Holes or movie, dogs don't tell jokes and sideways stories about school. I am looking forward to reading the book about him when I am done finishing the whole book I can share some things about the book on my blog. I made a poster about him and 5 facts about him hope you enjoy thank you!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)