The Field Trip
Chapter One
Summary: Charlie's first day back at school since the big announcement leads to his class taking a field
trip into the chocolate factory.
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I don't own CatCF the book, that's all Dahl. I don't own CatCF the movie, that's all
somebody, I'm not sure who. Some guy. Some really lucky guy.
The crowd outside of the factory was now even bigger then it had been Friday afternoon when Mr. Willy
Wonka had announced to the world that 10 year old Charlie Bucket would one day inherit his entire
chocolate factory. Now, Monday morning, as Charlie stared out the door, numerous cameras flashed
back at him. He only had moments until he had to go out to face them on his way to school.
"Charlie?" called a voice from the hallway behind him. "Charlie!"
"Yes, Mr. Wonka?" replied Charlie, without turning back to look. He felt a warm presence behind him,
though not actually touching him, as Mr. Wonka had a great fear of touching people. Suddenly a rather
pungent smell came to Charlie's nose, causing him to turn quickly to see what was making such a terrible
stench.
He stood mere inches from Willy's chest and realized the horrid smell was coming from the chocolatier.
There was a fine green slim covering Willy's coat and pants, and long, oozing drops of it were hanging
from his hat like icicles. Despite this, the man was smiling his usual broad, toothy smile.
"I suppose you'd rather like to not face the crowd today?" asked Wonka, the smile as bright as ever.
"I don't particularly want to face them any day," mumbled Charlie. For a moment the smile faded and
Charlie could tell by the look on Wonka's face he was trying to suppress yelling at Charlie for being a
mumbler.
"Well then," replied Wonka, the smile re-appearing, though less toothy. "Let's boogie."
With that Wonka walked to the far wall and began tapping the metal there. Charlie watched him for a
moment, thinking this to be one of the chocolatier's usual eccentrics. However, after the man had tapped
a certain portion of the wall it opened up and a yellow button lay there. Without hesitation Wonka
pressed it and in zoomed the Great Glass Elevator.
"I never knew that was there?" said Charlie in amazement as Wonka handed him his jacket from the
ground where last he left it. Wonka smiled slyly back to him.
"Oh, my dear Charlie, there is plenty of this factory I have yet to show you," replied Wonka, rather
mysteriously. The smile, slightly less devious, returned with full force and Wonka motioned for Charlie to
enter the elevator.
After Wonka had, amazingly, not run face first into the Glass Elevator, the two were off. The elevator
crashed right threw one of the less solid doors, leaving a large, rectangular shaped hole. Charlie looked
back in amazement.
"Will the Oompa Loompas fix that?" asked Charlie as he pulled on his new coat, courtesy of Mr. Wonka.
It was a much heavier coat than he was used to, made out of the finest grey lamb's wool. Oddly, there
were two gold Ws stitched onto the breast pocket of the jacket. Though it was slightly loose around
Charlie's waist and chest and long in the arms, he did not complain. Of course that had been one of the
reasons Wonka had chosen him to inherit the Chocolate Factory.
"Oh, heavens no. That's what bulldabangers are for," replied Wonka, who gave no indication that he
would explain who or what a bulldabanger was.
Below them cameras craned up to look as the elevator swooped by over their heads. Bulbs flashed and
Mr. Wonka waved down good-naturedly. There were several children from Charlie's school who
followed below the elevator the entire way to school, nearly three blocks from the gates of the factory.
And when the elevator landed outside the playground of the school, the same children huddled close
together nearby to watch Charlie as though he were an animal in the zoo.
"You'll pick me back up, then?" asked Charlie, looking up to Wonka. He had tried to sound casual, but
there was a sort of desperation to his voice that he could not cover up. Wonka looked down into his
brilliant eyes and saw something there that he had never seen in the boy's eyes; fear. Fear of what,
Wonka was not entirely sure, but he had not yet denied anything Charlie's heart desired, he was not about
to start now.
"Sure, little boy Charlie," said Wonka, opening the door and tearing his gaze from Charlie's eyes. There
was something there that made Wonka feel different, not in a bad way, just different. The door stood
open, but the boy did not step out, he still looked up to his mentor.
"Twenty after two. The bell rings at two thirty, so please be here by two twenty," said Charlie. He
stepped out of the elevator, but turned back at once, before Wonka could even reach for the button to
close the doors. "You won't forget, will you?"
"Of course not," was the cheery reply. Wonka pressed the button and the doors slid shut between them,
trapping some of the flying snow into the elevator. The engines roared to life and Charlie watched the
chocolatier rise into the air and speed off back to the factory. He watched until there was just a tiny
Wonka silhouette high in the air over the town that rapidly descended and completely disappeared.
Charlie Bucket was afraid, almost every day after school, and during it, too, he was picked on by the
other children. In particular, Randell Marx, the biggest, loudest, meanest child in the school. Currently
Randell was nowhere to be seen, so Charlie rushed into the school, not looking at the huddled group that
still stood just off to the side of him.
There was a much different then usual atmosphere to the school then normal. The children seemed to be
happier then would be considered healthy for being in school. Everyone of them waved to him as they
passed by, some even saying hello. This indeed was a rare occurrence for him as he was for the most part
ignored by his fellow schoolmates.
Once he got to class he finally found out what all the happiness was about. Hanging on the door that led
into his class was a reminder for the students to remember their permission slips for the field trip that
would take place over the following weekend.
"Field trip?" Charlie asked no one in particular. He could not for the life of him remember being told
about a field trip. The moment he opened the door there were cries of joy and people screaming his
name. Some of his classmates were even giving him a standing ovation. Only one thing crossed his mind:
this can't be good.
"Move aside, children, move aside," said a young women, who shooed the children away from Charlie.
This was his teacher, Miss Abernathy, she had a bright smile, though to Charlie it paled to Mr. Wonka's,
and soulful blue eyes. Her long red hair was in a braid that lay flat against her back and she smelled like
daffodils today.
"What's going on, Miss Abernathy?" asked Charlie, as she took him by the shoulders and guided him to
his seat. She let out a laugh that sounded like bells on a spring morning, light and cheery.
"It was a wonderful idea, you know, marvelous," she replied to him, like it would answer his question. He
gave her a quizzical look and her smile and cheerful nature dissipated. "You really don't know, do you?
Well, then how...?"
She stopped herself short and looked at the linoleum floor in thought. Then disappointment cascaded over
her features. She looked around at the children's faces, each looking as confused as Charlie.
"What?" asked Charlie.
"Well, apparently it was a rumor," Miss Abernathy said in reply. Charlie pulled her hand so that she
would kneel next to where he sat in his chair.
"What was a rumor?" he asked, looking her dead in the eyes. The other children gathered around,
wanting to hear every whisper of the conversation.
"That since you are Mr. Wonka's heir you were allowing a field trip with your classmates into the
factory," she replied breathlessly. Charlie jolted, surprised by this announcement. "It was already
approved by the board and permission slips were mailed home."
"But I never told anyone I was letting the class into the factory for a field trip," said Charlie. The children
around him let saddened groans. Converse broke out, harsh whispers that Charlie suspected were about
him.
"Rumors spread by eager parents," said Miss Abernathy. "All of them volunteered to be chaperones."
"You mean, we aren't going to the Chocolate Factory?" asked one girl toward the back of the room. She
had always been friendly to Charlie. She too was one of the poorer students. Seeing the sadness on her
face he thought back to the days when he would stand outside the gates and smell the chocolate in the air
and wished that one day he might have the chance to see inside of it.
"No, that's not what it means-" stuttered Charlie.
"So we get to go?" the girl replied excitedly. Her smile was so pure and joyful, just as Charlie had always
imagined his own had been when he discovered the last Golden Ticket. Charlie looked at her,
remembering his own fortune, or rather lack there of, before he came to live with Mr. Wonka.
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"Hello, Mr. Wonka!" exclaimed Charlie in a faux voice of happiness. In truth he was rather afraid of what
the chocolatier would say when Charlie told him the "good" news. Apparently Wonka say right through
this facade because he fixed the boy with a rather searching gaze.
"What did you do?" asked Wonka with his high voice. There was no use for lies, Wonka would see right
into it. So, Charlie started on telling his beloved mentor the truth.
"Myclasswillbecomingtothefactoryonafieldtrip," said Charlie quickly, letting out a relieved sigh afterward.
Wonka just looked at him for a moment, deciphering whatever it was that Charlie had just said. Suddenly
a paleness unlike Charlie had ever seen came over Wonka's face.
"Oh, no, they can't come to the factory. It's not possible," said Wonka as he pulled Charlie into the Glass
Elevator and shut the door behind so that the small crowd that was beginning to gather around could not
hear.
"Please, Mr. Wonka. Everyone will be so upset with me if we don't get to go. There are already
chaperones and some of the children have already packed there things and turned in there permission slips
and-"
"Permission slips?" asked Mr. Wonka, head snapping to attention as if he had suddenly awaken from a
deep sleep.
"Yes, it's a formality that the school does in case one of the children gets lost or hurt during the-"
"Well, why didn't you say so? No problems then!" said Wonka in his cheery voice once again. The ride
back to the factory was somewhat strained, though now that he knew he would not be held responsible if
anything happened to Charlie's classmates Wonka seemed more upbeat.
"You're mad at me, aren't you?" asked Charlie as they got out of the elevator just outside of the run down
home Charlie and his family shared. It sat in the Chocolate Room on the meadow, which was covered in
the powdered sugar that served as snow.
"No, no, I'm not mad, this is my happy face," replied Mr. Wonka, a tight smile pulled over his face.
"Don't worry, Charlie, I'll find a way to make it up to me. I could always make you work in the Boiling
Pit."
"Boiling Pit?" Charlie said in a shaky voice.
"Don't let the name fool you," replied Mr. Wonka, "it's more of a frying."
To Be Continued...