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 run-down 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 tUVENILE 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.”
