(Matilda's POV):

We sit there for what seems like days, maybe weeks. I begin to feel a little worried.

"Matilda?" Charlie asks me suddenly.

"Yeah?" I ask.

"You okay?"

I shrug my shoulders. All of a sudden, I feel an arm come around from the back and a hand set itself upon my right shoulder. I look next to me to see that Charlie has wrapped his arm around me. My cheeks begin to burn a little.

"I guess I'm worried," I confess.
"Seems like they've been gone for days."

"Yeah."

I look around the area. It's pretty quiet, all things considered.

"It's getting pretty dark. Shouldn't you be getting back?" I ask him.

"Not until you want to head back."

"I'm willing to wait as long as necessary."

Another code of Wonkarer conduct is to never leave another Wonkarer behind, no matter what. But that's not so much why I want to head back.

Suddenly I feel a light hit my head. I look up to see the moonlight shining down on the two of us.

"Matilda, are you sick?" Charlie asks.

"No. Why?"

"Well, your cheeks."

"What about them?"

"They're really red."

"So are yours," I remark.

It's true. His cheeks are burning red. In a flash, I move away.

"I'm just-cold, is all," I lie.

"Same," he tells me.

(Charlie's POV):

For a few moments, we sit in silence. But it's no ordinary silence; it's the kind of awkward silence that only new eleven year olds feel around each other in a situation like this.

At an impulse, I take a small glance at Matilda. But soon I'm caught in her eyes. I never noticed how her eyes twinkled like that. It's not an ordinary twinkle; the kind that mother told me every girl has. No, this one's special. This is an eye twinkle that tells you that Matilda is not like every other girl. She's a girl with ideas. Full of ambition, intelligence, passion, imagination. She doesn't really think about being pretty and that's why I guess we're friends. She's a special girl. One might mistake her for Wonka's daughter.

"Charlie, you okay?" I hear her ask me in a lyrical voice.

"Huh?" I mumble in confusion.
"Oh yeah. I'm good."

(Matilda's POV):

Something about my mind seems to be a bit off. I get out my book of ideas and try to center myself back by writing in it, but my mind's bouncing all over like a wild pinball.

"What's that?" Charlie asks.

I look up at him in confusion.

"I've never told you about this?"

He shakes his head. My eyes widen in a mixture of excitement and fear. What on earth would he think? I look around to make sure we're alone.

"If I show you this, you have to promise you will never tell another soul as long as you live."

"I promise."

"And if you break the promise, that may not be very long."

What? He may probably be my best friend, but that doesn't mean he gets special privileges. After looking around for signs of any other life, I beckon him in closer and whisper.

"For, you see, this is my ideas notebook."

"Isn't that the notebook you bring with you to school everyday?"

I nod.

"My father gave it to me when I was turning six. He knew how much I loved candy. In fact, he was the one who introduced me to Wonka's treats."

I bring the book into the light. For a few moments, his eyes devour the words on the pages.

"Amazing," he gasps.
"Marshmallows with hot chocolate centers. Candy-flavored cough drops. Gummy Grapplers. How do you come up with these?"

I shrug my shoulders.

"They just come to me, I suppose. Perhaps my father helped inspire me as well."

"What did your father do?"

"He used to work at a lab somewhere. But one day, he came home really shaken, almost as if he'd been visited by a ghost. Then the next day, when he was going off to work, he hugged mom and I a lot longer than normal, almost as if he knew it was the last time we would see him."

"How come he was so shaken?"

"He never told me why. In fact, after that day, he never contacted us. No letters, no voicemails, nothing. Nowadays I never see him, and honestly it is a bit saddening. I'm sorry. I shouldn't be blathering on about such a dark topic."

"Oh," he remarks a bit sadly.
"It's okay. Just a bit sad to hear all that, but I'm used to it."

Suddenly the wind picks up and I hear the crumpling of paper coming down the streets. Quickly I grab hold of the papers and bring them into the light.

"It's a dollar bill and today's newspaper," I say.
"Two More Tickets Found; Wonka Contest Nearing The End."

I don't really pay attention to the names. All I know is that we need to find those tickets. Quickly I grab the bars and divvy them out between the two of us.

"What are you doing?" he asks.

"There's not a lot of time left. Four of the five tickets have been found. We need to find that last ticket. And soon."