Holes (Holes 1)

“Careful,” Stanley warned.

Zero picked up the cracked lid and licked the sploosh off that as well. Then he handed the broken jar to Stanley. “Drink some.”

Stanley held it in his hand and stared at it a moment. He was afraid of the broken glass. He was also afraid of the sploosh. It looked like mud. Whatever it was, he realized, it must have been in the boat when the boat sank. That meant it was probably over a hundred years old. Who knew what kind of bacteria might be living in it?

“It’s good,” said Zero, encouraging him.

He wondered if Zero had heard of bacteria. He raised the jar to his mouth and carefully took a sip.

It was a warm, bubbly, mushy nectar, sweet and tangy. It felt like heaven as it flowed over his dry mouth and down his parched throat. He thought it might have been some kind of fruit at some time, perhaps peaches.

Zero smiled at him. “I told you it was good.”

Stanley didn’t want to drink too much, but it was too good to resist. They passed the jar back and forth until it was empty. “How many are left?” he asked.

“None,” said Zero.

Stanley’s mouth dropped. “Now I have to take you back,” he said.

“I’m not digging any more holes,” said Zero.

“They won’t make you dig,” Stanley promised. “They’ll probably send you to a hospital, like Barf Bag.”

“Barf Bag stepped on a rattlesnake,” said Zero.

Stanley remembered how he’d almost done the same. “I guess he didn’t hear the rattle.”

“He did it on purpose,” said Zero.

“You think?”

“He took off his shoe and sock first.”

Stanley shivered as he tried to imagine it. “What’s Mar-ya Luh-oh-oo?” asked Zero. “What?”

Zero concentrated hard. “Mar ya, Luh oh oo.”

“I have no idea.”

“I’ll show you,” said Zero. He crawled back out from under the boat.

Stanley followed. Back outside, he had to shield his eyes from the brightness.

Zero walked around to the back of the boat and pointed to the upside-down letters. “Mm-ar-yuh. Luh-oh-oo.”

Stanley smiled. “Mary Lou. It’s the name of the boat.”

“Mary Lou,” Zero repeated, studying the letters. “I thought ‘y’ made the ‘yuh’ sound.”

“It does,” said Stanley. “But not when it’s at the end of a word. Sometimes ‘y’ is a vowel and sometimes it’s a consonant.”

Zero suddenly groaned. He grabbed his stomach and bent over.

“Are you all right?”

Zero dropped to the ground. He lay on his side, with his knees pulled up to his chest. He continued to groan.

Stanley watched helplessly. He wondered if it was the sploosh. He looked back toward Camp Green Lake. At least he thought it was the direction of Camp Green Lake. He wasn’t entirely sure.