It wasn't hard for Charlie to leave the factory next afternoon.
He simply told his parents that he needed some fresh air, and walked out. They believed him, of course. While the constant smell of chocolate was heavenly, it could make one's head hurt. Still, Charlie felt his stomach boiling with guilt as he walked through the gates and into the real world.
From there, he quickly broke into a run, dodging the few people walking in the cold, nearly crashing into a lamppost. It was a short way to the other factory, but it seemed much longer, given the fact that Charlie ducked behind something every time he saw someone who looked a little like Mister Wonka. He got there in the end, finally, and was about to ring the doorbell when he saw the odd boy from yesterday, peering out the window on the side of the factory.
Charlie trotted over to him. "Hi."
The boy pulled the window open. "Hi. Come inside."
"Through the...window?"
The boy nodded. "You'll fit."
"Um, okay." Charlie pulled himself through the window, feet-first, and landed on a hard-wood floor. "Do your parents know I'm here?"
The boy shook his head cheerfully, and Charlie saw that his eyes were once-again mismatched. "Nobody knows except me."
Well, perhaps this wasn't the smartest idea Charlie had ever had, crawling through the window into some stranger's house. As he was debating whether or not to make a run for it, the boy said, "You're Charlie, right."
Charlie nodded.
"I'm Whit." The boy slammed the window closed and locked it firmly, blocking out a lot of the light in the narrow room. "Whit Slugworth. Don't stand there."
Charlie hopped off the floorboard he had been standing on and sat on a wooden chair instead. The entire room was full of mostly chairs, for some strange reason, though many of them were stacked high with loose paper and books. One of the more comfy-looking chairs appeared to have a sort of blanketed nest on it.
Whit pulled a chair out of the corner and swept all the papers off it, knocking them onto the floor. He then sat down, ignoring the complete mess he had just made. "So, um, how are you?"
Charlie gave him a weak smile. "Okay." He still had a very painful bruise on bis cheek, but he had brushed his hair over it, and besides, it was probably his own fault for falling backwards. "How are you?"
Whit ignored him. "I wanted to ask you what you know about my...mother."
"Your mother?" Charlie hadn't even considered the fact that Whit would have a mother. He was being awfully stupid today. "Um, I'm sorry, Mister Wonka never mentioned her."
Whit did not seem surprised. "That's alright. Did you want to ask me something?"
"I wanted to ask your father something. I...didn't even know about you..."
Whit grinned. "Surprise! Okay, what did you want to ask him?"
"I wanted to help him meet Mister Wonka again. So they'd be friends."
Whit snorted. "Like that's ever going to happen."
"Whit-ney," Charlie said exasperatedly. "So did Mr. Slugworth tell you that he was friends with Mister Wonka?"
"No," Whit said in a thoughtful way. "He didn't. Mother told me. Father hardly ever talks to me anymore. He's always inventing things. And call me Whit."
"Oh, right, I forgot that he's a chocolatier too."
"Mm-hmm," Whit said, in rather a non-commital way. "Well, I want you to come meet someone then."
"Okay." Charlie stood up, then asked, nervously, "Where are we going?"
"Well, I suppose you'll have to take another factory tour." Whit pulled the door to the small room open and turned back to look at Charlie. "As long as you don't tell your mentor about anything."
"I won't!"
"Good that. Come on, then." Whit swept out the door and Charlie followed him.
They raced down a long set of slanted stairs, sliding down the banisters and crashing ungracefully into the wall at the end. Whit then pulled a ring of keys out of his pocket and unlocked the small door in front of them. It was a cream-coloured door, and barely big enough for Whit to get through.
"Why's it so small?" Charlie asked, then felt a rushing sense of deja vu.
"I dunno, actually. Dad just likes it that way." Whit pushed the door open and ducked his head to walk through, and Charlie followed. "Anyway, this is the Chocolate Room."
The noise was deafening. Charlie covered his ears, but Whit appeared not to care, looking up at the ceiling. In the center of the room was an enormous vat of chocolate, big enough for Charlie's entire family and one more to swim in. There were more tubs of chocolate seemingly suspended from the sky, and every few moments they tipped and poured more chocolate into the enormous pot. Charlie could see the sides of the pot glowing, and as they got closed, he realised there were heating wires wrapped all around it, sparkling red.
"There's a drain in the bottom so it doesn't overflow, and pipes below that to take it wherever," Whit shouted over the noise of the rushing chocolate.
"Have you ever fallen in?" Charlie asked him.
"Not yet because I'd be dead!" Whit yelled back. Charlie wished he hadn't asked.
He followed Whit to a large hole in the metal wall, completely random-seeming. "Come on, we can slide down."
"There's a slide in the middle of your factory?" Charlie shouted, laughing slightly.
"Yeah, it's kind of a thing for chocolatiers to be immature!" Whit told him. Without further ado, he plopped down at the base of the slide and disappeared from Charlie's sight. Hesitating for only a moment, Charlie followed.
The inside of the slide was glowing, lit with what appeared to be brightly twinkling Christmas lights. It reminded Charlie of the boat ride he had taken at his first tour of Mister Wonka's factory, except with no Oompa-Loompas. It also reminded him of a book he had read once, where the girl found a magical tunnel to another world that was better than her own. With a new, exciting friend, and a different whole entire chocolate factory to play in, Charlie kind of felt like he was that girl.
But hadn't she ended up almost getting killed by the mother in that world?
Oh well, as long as he was very careful and stayed smart, he wouldn't get hurt. And it wasn't like he hadn't ventured into huge, unknown chocolate factories before.
The slide ended abruptly and Charlie came crashing out onto his feet, a rather painful exit. Whit pulled him up and said excitedly, "These are the kitchens. We've got a regular human staff, not like whatever you have at your factory. You should meet them, since you're sworn to secrecy and all."
Charlie nodded, still out of breath.
It was a huge kitchen, like they have in the biggest restaurants. There were seven fridges nearby, each big enough for Charlie's entire family to fit inside, though oddly they were painted blue with green polka dots. Everything in the kitchens was painted in various stripes, dots, stars and symbols, some of them even touched up with glitter. There were several dozen people moving around, and though they walked professionally, they often crashed into each other as if they couldn't see where they were going. They all laughed when they collided, said a few apologies, and went back to their business, as if they were all best friends and it didn't matter.
A woman came walking up to them, brandishing a very large wooden spoon. She was very pretty, with dark skin, chocolate-coloured hair, and very dark eyes, though they sparkled at both Whit and Charlie.
"Hiya, Whit," she said cheerfully. "Friend of yours?"
"Yeah," Whit told her without hesitation. "Charlie."
"Does your dad know he's here?"
"Nope!" Whit said, still grinning.
"All right then. Want to help me with this?"
"I'll help you." Charlie followed her over to a glittery pink stove, and she handed him her spoon. "Stir, please."
Charlie stirred the pot on the stove.
"Thank you. We're working on a new, top-secret recipe. It's so top-secret, we're not quite even sure what we're making." She laughed heavily, then took the spoon from him. "Good job. You have a strong hand. Friend of Whit's, eh?"
"Um—yes." It felt odd to be calling him a friend after only one day, but it felt true at the same time.
The woman sighed faintly. "Good. You look like a good friend. I'm Muriel, by the way."
"Pleased to meet you."
Muriel paused, then said suddenly, "You work for Wonka, don't you?"
"What? Um—"
"Oh, don't look so scared, it's okay. As long as Whit likes you, I'll like you. Whit's judgement is good. Most of the time."
"I was sworn to secrecy," Charlie told her.
"Good that. Be nice to him, okay?"
"O—Okay."
"Oh, there you are. We should probably take you home. Bye, Muriel." Whit pointed to a door at the far end of the crowded room. "We'll go that way."
As Charlie ran with his friend out the door, it didn't occur to him to wonder who Muriel was asking him to be nice to.
Don't go into strangers' houses, kids.