"Daddy!" I cry out from the front door entryway.

My dad comes rushing out from his study. "What is it, Veruca? I'm in the middle of something."

Ugh! Ever since that little factory kerfuffle he never has time for me anymore! Granted, I probably deserve him yelling at me when I ask him for anything, but that doesn't mean he gets to stop fathering! He can do that when I'm gone.

I hold up the letter that made me draw his attention in the first place. "Look at this letter I got!"

He examines the envelope in the hand that isn't raised. "Oh no, you don't. That's the Wonka Seal, isn't it? You're not going anywhere near that kook again."

I roll my eyes. "It's not even from him, Daddy. It's from Charlie."

"The Bucket kid?" Daddy asks. I nod, and then he adds, "Why's he sending you letters?"

"He wants us to come visit," I explain.

"What? Who's 'us'?" he asks, with a confused head shake. "You're not making much sense, Veruca."

I stomp my foot on the ground. "It's in one ear and out the other with you now, Daddy! Just because you've decided to put your foot down doesn't mean to completely ignore me!" I sigh. "I told you: last year, a few weeks after the factory ordeal, I started getting letters from the other kids, kinda like a pen pal thing - because we all had the same ordeal and I need better people to talk to. We decided that we were going to meet up exactly one year from then, just to catch up in person and stuff. And it's today! Daddy, you have to drive me over there right away!"

He narrows his eyes at me. "No, Veruca. I'm not taking you down there. You'll just have to let your little friends down."

I scream, rushing up to him. "No! You can't let me miss this! Please! Do this one thing for me!"

"Why should I?" he snaps, stepping back. "It'll be one thing after the other with you, like it used to."

"No, it won't!" I say to him. "I've managed to restrain myself for a whole year, and I even let you drag me down to the hospital when the trash started actually decomposing my bones. You know how I feel about going to the hospital; that's why I prefer the family doctor coming here!"

I move my arms a bit to prove the point. They move a bit limply now because the doctor actually said the garbage went right to my core. It took three whole months to get all the physical garbage off, but the smell still lingers very faintly, if you get close enough to me. And that in turn made my bones go a bit soft. If I don't keep my intake of calcium to harden them, then they will go too soft and I'll lose all my mobility permanently.

"What's your point?" asks Daddy, now with an eye roll. Mom peers into the room from behind the door, drink in hand, blank looking like always.

"I've put in the effort, stopped being so whiny, left you alone, even gave some of my things to charity! Well, I'm not all that upset about that part, it felt good," I say, with a shrug, "but why can't this be my reward?!" I drop to my knees. "Please, Daddy! I'm begging you!"

"Veruca, my word is final." Daddy punches out all of the next words. "I. Am. Not. Taking. You!"

I spring right up. "I HATE YOU!" I scream at the top of my lungs, running off to my room in a sobbing mess. Mom shrinks back into the room again.

—

Ugh! I can't believe he won't let me go! I don't care what he says, I'm getting there one way or the other, even if I have to run there! And everyone knows how I usually feel about that.

Then it hits me. My aunt is in town! And she hardly ever agrees with anything my dad says anyway. Surely she can take me!

I reach over on my bed for my phone, buried in the cover. I dial her number and wait patiently for her to pick up.

"Verushka!" I hear my aunt's familiar Russian accent after a few beats. "How are you, dear?"

I smile. "Hi, Auntie Sasha! I'm doing pretty good."

Pause. "What do you need?"

"Can you give me a ride to somewhere?" I ask. "It's an emergency! Friendship is on the line here."

Another pause. Then the magic words: "Where to, babushka?"

—

"Thanks, Auntie!" I call out to the helicopter that drops me off at the factory across town. My aunt sticks her head out the window.

"Dosvedanya, Verushka!" she calls back, as it flies away. "Safe travels!"

I pick up my pink furry suitcase and run up to the gate. I'm about to knock when I hear the sound of a blade spinning behind me. I turn around to find the Flying Glass Elevator hovering behind me.

I wave to it. "Hi!" In response, it plays a happy tone and then opens its doors for me to step inside.

Whoosh!

Away it flies, over a new area outside the factory that I've never seen. Charlie's house is sitting atop a new sugary coated plateau. I guess they finally let Wonka airlift their house here (and finally convinced him that family is not an issue).

Moments later I'm in the long hall entryway Wonka had taken us down last year to start off the factory. I look around. Huh. Nothing really changes around here, and yet a lot still did. Sometimes I blame this place for my new weird warped way of thinking.

I start walking towards the door to the rest of the factory to call out for someone when I suddenly heard footsteps behind me. I turn around and there he is. Charlie Bucket. He's approaching me with an Oompa Loompa by his side, following silently.

"Hello, Veruca!" he calls out to me, waving.

I put down my suitcase and wave back. "Hi! It's nice to see you again."

As soon as he reaches me we do a funky handshake. "You're the first to arrive. Hopefully the others will be coming later today or by tomorrow," Charlie explains. "They won't be here any later than the end of this week, though."

"Uh oh, hide your candy, you know once Auggie sees all this, he might not be able to help himself, right?" I joke, and he laughs at this. "No matter. Are we going to be staying somewhere while we're here?"

He nods. "Yeah. Come on, we have to take the Candy Boat to get there."

On our way through the Chocolate Room, he suddenly asks, "So, how have you been doing?"

I know he means after the whole factory ordeal. "Good, I suppose, nothing that I hadn't already told you - you know, withdrawing from my overly-luxurious lifestyle. And you know what? It felt good to do that, knowing that I was solving problems as opposed to contributing to them." Then I wave my arm and it starts moving slightly like a damp noodle. "But I'm still trying to get used to this whole new bone thing. I swear that garbage must have been magical and cursed to literally start sucking the hardness right out of my bones. Good thing I brought my calcium shots and some milk before I got here. I'm not in the mood to be moving around like a jellyfish."

"What about your parents?" asks Charlie. "What are they doing?"

I suck in my cheeks. Here we go.

"My mom's still being just as unresponsive as she was before all this. Pretty sure that's the Botox talking. Go figure. My dad, on the other hand..." I cross my arms. "He's literally throwing himself into his work and is ignoring me. And I don't mean for when I want some stupid thing, either, I mean he's hardly even around. I have to order take out if I want to eat, because Mom's getting lazy, and the cook's on vacation. Honestly, he deserves one."

Charlie raises an eyebrow. "Uh, don't you think that's a little insane? Your dad just stopped parenting you?"

I shrug. "What can I say? Daddy's insane." I turn back in the direction we're walking. "Oh, we're here."

We hop into the Candy Boat and off we go towards the tunnels again. Halfway through I feel a vibration in my purse. I know it's probably my dad so I don't answer it.

Moments later, the boat stops and we're on a ski lift over what Charlie tells me is Fudge Mountain. The mountain looks quite delicious, of course, and Charlie says the Oompa-Loompas can bring us a few pieces when they're done because they know how to navigate the mountains.

—

I have excused myself to walk around the Factory a bit. Of course, I try to avoid the Nut Room like it's my dad. He's worse than the plague.

Emphasis on try.

I hear a chitter. Right by the door. I freeze. Too scared to turn around.

It gets louder. I take off running, screaming.

And crash right into a pole.

"Ow!"

Wait... that's not me. And that's not a pole.

I look up.

"Mike?!"