“Don’t shoot him,” said the Warden. “He can’t go anywhere. The last thing we need is an investigation.”
Zero kept backing up, out past the cluster of holes the boys had been digging, then farther and farther out onto the lake.
“He’s going to have to come back for water,” the Warden said.
Stanley noticed Zero’s canteen lying on the ground near his hole.
A couple of the counselors helped Mr. Pendanski to his feet and into the truck.
Stanley looked out toward Zero, but he had disappeared into the haze.
The Warden ordered the counselors to take turns guarding the shower room and Wreck Room, all day and all night.
They were not to let Zero drink any water. When he returned, he was to be brought directly to her.
She examined her fingernails and said, “It’s almost time for me to paint my nails again.”
Before she left, she told the six remaining members of Group D that she still expected seven holes.
Stanley angrily dug his shovel into the dirt. He was angry at everyone— Mr. Pendanski, the Warden, Zigzag, X-Ray,
and his no-good-dirty-rotten-pig-stealing-great-great-grandfather.
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