Stanley Yelnats' Survival Guide to Camp Greenlake

by Louis Sachar

  A: Fasten your seat belt.

  B: Stop. Bang your head against the steering wheel several times and repeat, “What have I done? What have I done?”

  C: Return to Mr. Sir and say, “The brakes are fine, but you’ll need to adjust the carburetor.”

  D: Whatever. It doesn’t matter.

  E: LOOK OUT!!!

  answer to test five

  D is the correct answer. There are only two possible explanations for your situation. Either you are dreaming, or you’ve been bitten by a yellow-spotted lizard and you wanted to drive a truck before you died. In either case, it doesn’t matter what you do.

  13

  X-ray and the B-tent Boys

  You might say X-Ray survived too well.

  From the very beginning, when I was first taken to D tent, it was obvious who was the leader. It wasn’t Armpit or Squid, the two toughest guys in the tent. It was X-Ray, a skinny kid who wore thick glasses that were so dirty he needed X-ray vision just to see out of them.

  His secret was his confidence and his smile. He was always cool, even in the heat of Green Lake. When he smiled, it made it you feel that everything would be all right.

  He didn’t need to be tough. He had Armpit and Squid by his side. They would do his dirty work for him if necessary, but it was hardly ever necessary. It seemed everyone wanted to stay on X-Ray’s good side.

  Part of it was survival. I knew that if I was going to survive Camp Green Lake, I couldn’t have X-Ray mad at me. But it was more than that. When I did something for him, he would smile his great smile, look me right in the eye, and say, “Thanks, Caveman. You’re a good guy.” He made me feel cool and confident, too.

  He would do things for you – get you an extra piece of bread or a clean pair of socks. Of course, X-Ray never did anything for anybody unless he got something for himself, too. Like the time he saved Zigzag from the B-tent boys and got everyone in D tent an extra carton of orange juice.

  The B-tent boys were a couple of years older than us, and they were some of the meanest and toughest guys in camp. One of them was named Thlump, and he was even crazier than Zigzag. I think at one time his name was The Lump, but it turned into one word.

  There was a boom box in the Wreck Room. It was a combination radio, cassette player, and CD player, but we were out of range of any radio station, and we didn’t have any cassettes. Thlump owned the only CD in camp. It was the first CD put out by the Backstreet Boys. Now, I had always thought only twelve-year-old girls liked the Backstreet Boys, but this was Thlump’s lifeline.

  Don’t get me wrong. I’ve got nothing against the Backstreet Boys. I’m sure lots of people like their music, but after you’ve heard the same CD over and over and over again, day after day after day, it becomes a kind of torture. There was one song, “If You Want It to Be Good Girl (Get Yourself a Bad Boy),” which he’d sometimes play five times in a row, while he and his buddies sang along with the chorus.

  That was the song that was playing when suddenly Zigzag got up from the floor, walked over to them, and said, “You mind turning that down? I’m trying to watch Ally McBeal.”

  About that time, the chorus kicked in and they all started singing along. So Ziggy reached over and turned off the music. The entire room became instantly quiet, not just the Backstreet Boys.

  Thlump wrapped his big hand over Zigzag’s face and pressed his head against the wall. “You’re dead,” he whispered.

  X-Ray instantly eased himself between Thlump and two of his goons. “Hey, guys,” he said calmly.

  “Stay away, X-Ray,” Thlump warned. “I don’t want to hurt you, too.”

  X-Ray showed no sign of fear. “How would you like some new tunes?” he asked.

  Thlump still held Zigzag. “You’re loonier than your friend,” he said.

  “What kinda new tunes?” asked one of the goons.

  “What do you want?” X-Ray asked.

  Thlump let go of Zigzag. “How you gonna get new tunes way out here?”

  “I got connections,” said X-Ray. “But it’s going to cost you.”

  “It’s going to cost me?” asked Thlump. “You’re lucky I don’t kill you and your friend.”

  “A week’s worth of orange juice,” X-Ray said. “From you and everyone in B tent.”

  The B-tenters looked at each other, then back at X-Ray.

  “Can you get the Backstreet Boys’ second CD?” Thlump asked.

  Everyone in the Wreck Room groaned.

  X-Ray smiled.

  I don’t know how he did it, but two days later X-Ray brought them their CD, and for the next three days, we all got an extra carton of orange juice. It was supposed to be for a week, but after three days, X-Ray told the B-tenters they didn’t have to pay anymore. I was disappointed, but who was I to complain? At least I got extra orange juice for a few days, and got to hear some new music, sort of.

  Of course we didn’t get the extra orange juice for nothing. We each had to give X-Ray half a piece of bread, but it was still a great deal for us.

  I saw X-Ray last week. He lives in Lubbock. “He’s in his room doing his homework,” his mother told me, then pointed the way. “And remind him I’m still waiting for him to take out the garbage.”

  X-Ray’s door was open. I could see him at his desk, which was covered with books and paper. He mumbled something about Angle C.

  “X-Ray,” I said.

  He turned. “Caveman! Good to see you.”

  His face looked different. It wasn’t just that his glasses were clean. He seemed hassled and worn out. Despite the air-conditioning, beads of sweat had collected on his forehead.

  I told him I was writing a survival guide for Camp Green Lake and then asked him how he managed to get the new CD for the B-Tent Boys.

  He smiled, and for a second he looked like his old self again. “I went to Pendanski,” he said. “Asked him what kind of music he liked.”

  “The Backstreet Boys?” I asked.

  X-Ray laughed. “Nah, he’d never heard of them. It was someone ancient and boring. The Rolling Rocks, I think. But I told him they were my favorite group, too. He started naming songs I’d never heard of, and I’d say stuff like ‘Rock on’ and ‘Awesome licks.’ Made him feel like he was the coolest cat in the state of Texas.”

  I could imagine.

  X-Ray’s mother shouted to him from another room. “Rex, you still haven’t taken out the garbage!”

  “I got a friend here!” X-Ray shouted back, then continued his story. “So anyway, I told Pendanski, for the sake of camp morale, we should get some new music for the Wreck Room. Except I made him feel like it was his idea.”

  X-Ray’s mother opened the door. She was skinny and wore glasses, too. “I’m not going to tell you again,” she said. “And you know the rules about having friends over on a school night.”

  “He’s writing a book about Camp Green Lake,” said X-Ray. “I’m going to be in it.”

  His mother scowled at me. “I’m sorry, but I really don’t want Rex associating with …” She paused, unsure of how to put it, but I got the idea.

  She turned to X-Ray. “Have you finished your homework?”

  “I’ll do it!”

  “Don’t snap at me,” his mother warned, then walked out.

  He quickly finished his story. Mr. Pendanski was good at computers, so they had no trouble downloading the music off the Internet and burning it on a CD. X-Ray convinced him that the other guys wouldn’t appreciate the Rolling Rocks, so they chose the Backstreet Boys instead.

  X-Ray looked back down at his homework. “Man, who cares what angles are congruent?”

  I shrugged.

  “We were supposed to get orange juice for a week,” I said. “How come you let them off the hook after just three days?”

  “They woulda quit paying anyway,” X-Ray said. “This way they thought I was doing them a favor.” He laughed. “They owed me.”

  It was good to see his cool, confident smile again.

  �
��Man, those were the good old days,” he said. Then he shook his head and sighed. “Sorry, you got to go. Homework.”

  On my way outside, I took out the garbage for him.

  Final Survival Test

  What is your name?

  A: Barf Bag

  B: Snotface

  C: Thworm

  D: David Divad

  E: Hannah

  final answer

  I think this was an easy question, especially if your name happened to be one of the five choices given. Even if it wasn’t, you should have gotten the correct answer, but only you know your own name. You’re on the honor system.

  Whatever your name is, after you’ve been at Camp Green Lake awhile, you’ll be given a new name. Chances are it will be something weird or gross. That’s good. No matter how weird a name you get, you should be glad. It means you’ve been accepted. If you’ve been there two weeks and they still call you Scott, or Chris, or Rebecca, you’ve been doing something wrong, and you better figure out what it is.

  If you’re lucky, your new name will get a nickname. In my group, Squid was sometimes called Squidly. Zigzag was also called Zig or Ziggy. X-Ray was X. Armpit was also just plain Pit. I was either Caveman or the Caveman.

  But don’t forget who you really are. And I’m not talking about your so-called real name. All names are made up by someone else, even the one your parents gave you.

  You know who you really are. When you’re alone at night, looking up at the stars, or maybe lying in your bed in total darkness, you know that nameless person inside you.

  Your life is about to be ripped apart. You will be turned into a digging machine. You muscles will toughen. So will your heart and soul. That’s necessary for your survival. But don’t lose touch with that person deep inside you, or else you won’t really have survived at all.

  Appendix

  These are the people I met at Camp Green Lake. You will deal with a whole new set of fellow campers, but the lessons you learned in this survival guide should apply. The names may change, but human nature doesn’t.

  Mr. Sir: Before Camp Green Lake, it is believed he sold stolen property out of the back room of a bar in El Paso. He got wind of an upcoming police raid and skipped town, driving a motorcycle (probably stolen) across the Texas desert. He met the Warden, who hired him to run the camp. Police investigators found no evidence linking him with any crime. The motorcycle can’t be found, no doubt buried in a hole.

  Mr. Pendanski: He was kicked out of the University of Texas for cheating. He had hacked into the central computer and changed grades. He also downloaded copies of the questions that would be on final exams and sold them to other students. The Warden hired him for his computer skills.

  Armpit: Despite his parents’ pleas, he hung around with the wrong crowd and got in a fight. “I didn’t start the fight, but I sure the hell finished it.” He sent two boys to the hospital and got himself sent to Camp Green Lake. Since being released, he has stayed out of trouble. He avoids violence and, despite the coaches’ pleas, refuses to join his high school football team in Austin.

  Zigzag: Was setting fire to pieces of Styrofoam in the schoolyard when the flames got out of control and destroyed a portable classroom. “I didn’t do it on purpose. I just like to watch things burn.” Since being released, he hasn’t watched much television. “There’s nothing good on anymore.”

  Squid: When Squid was three years old, his father went out “to buy some ice cream” and never returned. His mother is an alcoholic. Squid used to skip school and break into homes in his neighborhood, stealing mostly loose change and cans of soda. He now lives with his cousins in Missouri. He is two years behind in school, but he is working hard and hopes to go to college someday and study marine biology.

  Magnet: Shoplifting, and I’m not talking about stealing a candy bar from 7-Eleven. After he was arrested, the police found over five thousand dollars’ worth of stolen property in his bedroom. “It’s all in your attitude. I once walked out of a Wal-Mart carrying a DVD player and a fax machine, and they held the door open for me.” He was arrested when he tried to “rescue” a puppy from a cage in a pet store. He now volunteers once a week at the Humane Society in San Antonio.

  X-Ray: Sold drugs, though he never used any himself. “If not me, they would have gotten their stuff from someone else, right?” He would have faced a much longer prison term, but it turned out the drugs were not what they appeared to be. The bags of white powder contained only chopped-up aspirin. However, it was still illegal to sell bags of aspirin without a pharmaceutical license. X-Ray is currently attending high school, which he claims is much harder than Camp Green Lake.

  Twitch: When Camp Green Lake was initially closed, he was transferred to a special home for troubled youths in Houston. There he learned to play the guitar. He now has his own band called the Constant Fidgeters.

  Barf Bag: He made a full recovery. Believing he would be sent back to Camp Green Lake, he ran away from the hospital. He didn’t realize that his time in the hospital counted as time served in prison, and that he had, in fact, completed his sentence. His current whereabouts are unknown. If you see him, please tell him it’s safe to go home.

  Zero: For privacy reasons, no information is available.

  Caveman: (me) It’s funny. The Warden didn’t care about building character. I wrote this survival guide because Camp Green Lake was such a miserable place. And yet, when I think about it, I have to admit I feel a lot better about myself now than I did before I went there. I’m full of self-confidence. I’m in good physical shape. Kids don’t bully me. I have friends. Most important, I like who I am. I didn’t before.

  My best friend also goes to my high school. He never had any formal education, but with the help of tutoring, he’s doing real well, especially at math. He doesn’t talk much and mostly keeps to himself, but still everyone likes him. I won’t say his name because he values his privacy.

  I sort of have a girlfriend, too—well, not really a girlfriend, I mean, I like her, and I’m pretty sure she likes me. She smiles at me a lot, and she’s just so easy to talk to, but I don’t know, she’s such a kind and warmhearted person, she’s probably like that with everyone. Sometimes she calls me Caveman, with just a little bit of a tease in her voice. I like saying her name, too. It’s – well, I better not mention her name, because if it turns out she doesn’t like me, this would really be embarrassing. Maybe I’m not quite as self-confident as I said I was.

  I don’t complain. I don’t ask too many questions. I try to make the right choices. And I’m still trying to dig the perfect hole.

  Also by Louis Sachar

  Holes

  Small Steps

  Someday Angeline

  Pig City

  Dogs Don’t Tell Jokes

  There’s a Boy in the Girls’ Bathroom

  The Boy Who Lost His Face

  The Cardturner

  Marvin Redpost: Kidnapped at Birth

  Marvin Redpost: Why Pick on Me?

  Marvin Redpost: Is He a Girl?

  Marvin Redpost: Alone in His Teacher’s House

  Marvin Redpost: Class President

  Marvin Redpost: A Flying Birthday Cake?

  Marvin Redpost: Super Fast, Out of Control!

  Marvin Redpost: A Magic Crystal?

  Bloomsbury Publishing, London, New Delhi, New York and Sydney

  First published in Great Britain in March 2003 by Bloomsbury Publishing Plc,

  50 Bedford Square, London WC1B 3DP

  www.bloomsbury.com

  First pubilshed in the U.S. by Dell Yearling, an imprint of

  Random House Children’s Books, a division of Random House, Inc., New York

  This electronic edition published in July 2013 by Bloomsbury Publishing Plc

  Text copyright © Louis Sachar 2003

  Illustrations copyright © Eleanor Taylor 2003

  The moral rights of the author and illustrator have been asserted

  All rights reserved
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  A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

  eISBN 978-1-4088-5035-0

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