Stanley wanted to be sure he could find the right hole. Then, they would hide by it until everyone went to sleep.
They would dig for as long as it seemed safe, and not a second longer.
And then, treasure or no treasure, they’d head up the dirt road.
If it was absolutely safe, they’d try to steal some food and water from the camp kitchen.
“I’m good at sneaking in and out of places,” Zero had said. “Remember,” Stanley had warned. “The door to the Wreck Room squeaks.”
Now he lay on his back, trying to save his strength for the long days ahead.
He wondered what happened to Zero’s parents, but he didn’t ask.
Zero didn’t like answering questions. It was better to just let him talk when he felt like it.
Stanley thought about his own parents.
In her last letter, his mom was worried that they might be evicted from their apartment because of the smell of burning sneakers.
They could easily become homeless as well. Again, he wondered if they’d been told that he ran away from camp.
Were they told that he was dead? An image appeared in his head of his parents hugging each other and crying.
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