(Charlie's POV):
After dinner, I help clean up the dishes and then I remember.
"May I please be excused?" I ask.
"There's something I have to do. I don't think it will take too long."
"Alright, but please hurry," my mother says.
"You don't want to miss your grandpa's story for the night."
I smile excitedly.
"Never in a million years would I miss one of Grandpa Joe's stories."
I hop onto my bed and pull out a piece of paper. Matilda's birthday is coming up and though I can't give her much of a present, the least I can do is make her a nice card.
I'm going to be honest. I feel different when it's just Matilda and I. On the outside, she's tough. Incredibly tough and witty. But I feel like she's covering up something; the fact that maybe she's been strong for too long and I have a sudden urge to protect her when she looks or acts hurt. You could say it's like I'm her slightly older brother (our birthdays are only about a few days apart), but I'm not sure if that's the best way to describe it. I feel like she's a precious gem that could be stolen or destroyed at any moment, yet tough and sturdy at the same time.
Maybe I can finally see if those feelings are really what I think they might be. I pull out a pencil and begin to write throughout the night, taking a break only to listen to Grandpa Joe tell another story about the famous Wonka factory.
