Disclaimer: I do not own Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. I do own Charlene. And if you ppls steal her, you will die!
She stood on the side of the street, glancing around with an almost frantic air. Where is that dratted brat? He usually stops by here. Damn, he's keeping me from my work! She stomped a foot and charged forward, her eyes spotting a young boy hurrying across the street. She stopped though, when she realized that he was on his way home already.
She rammed her hands in the pockets of her thin frayed jacket and turned on her heel, heading in the opposite direction. At that time the skies decided to open and let loose more snow. She kicked a stone and bent to pick up a large crate, filled with small cardboard boxes. Groaning under the weight of it, she cursed the snow and the entire town under her breath as she walked up to a house and knocked on the door.
She plastered a smile on her face as the door swung open and an elderly lady answered. "Oh, Charlene! I was wondering where you were with my bread." She proclaimed. "I was getting worried, you're usually very dependable."
"I try ma'am." Charlene replied evenly, setting the crate down and digging through it. "Not just bread today ma'am, milk, eggs, and….and some cabbage." She read from a tag attached to one of the boxes. She hefted the box. "Where would you like it?"
"Oh, it's no trouble at all, my nephew is staying with me, he'll carry it inside." The woman replied. "Richard!" She called inside the house before turning back to Charlene when she heard the woman cough. "Dear, you'd best not stay outside too long. It'd be a shame if you get sick. Soon enough the weather will get warmer and I'll be depending on you to tend to my garden again."
Charlene nodded, forcing a pleasant smile on her face. "It's nothing ma'am, just a slight cough." Her hazel eyes turned toward the inside of the house as a young man about her age, twenty seven, or so walked over.
He had curly black hair and green eyes. He stared at her coldly and took the box, seeming to loathe even the chance that he might come in contact with her. He lifted the box and promptly strode back into the house, saying, "You'd best come in Aunt Kelly, you might catch cold."
The elderly lady smiled and nodded. "I'm coming." She waved to Charlene and went back inside, closing the door softly.
But to Charlene, it was like a gunshot. She clenched her fists and picked up the slightly lighter crate, walking off with a grim determination in her steps. Her upper back length messy auburn hair streamed out behind her in the wind that made snow swirl around her. She continued on much the same way, stopping at houses and leaving the occupants their food deliveries.
A few gave her pocket change for her troubles, but most seemed all too eager to return to the warm inside of their home. At every house Charlene faked a smile and spoke lightly, but as she walked away, her tanned face became darker and darker.
Finally, when the crate was at last empty she started her long trek back to the grocery store where she worked as a delivery girl, then on home. The snow continued to fall, a good amount sticking to her hair and jacket. The wind didn't let up either; it blew against her, cutting right through her jacket and cotton shirt beneath.
"You're late." A voice coldly informed her as she walked in the doors of the small grocery store.
"I'm sorry sir, you know Mrs. Williams, she usually lives alone and she rather likes to talk." Charlene mumbled sitting the crate in the back. "Is there anything else you need me to do?" She kept her eyes lowered.
The rather pudgy balding owner of the store grumbled under his breath. "No. Not for tonight anyway. Come back tomorrow. And remember, I'm not paying you to chat with some old person."
"Yes sir." Charlene replied and stepped back out into the snow, rather than stay inside where the smell of fresh bread made her stomach growl. She picked up the pace once she was back outside.
She paused only once, and that was out of habit. She paused when she crossed the streets that ran in front of the factory. Every time she passed that place she got the chills. There was something creepy about the large plain white building. No one had seen or heard from the owner in several years now. And supposedly no one worked there, since the owner had closed the gates firmly fifteen years ago, and not a soul had seen them open except for the delivery trucks. But yet, it was still running, chocolate was still produced. Though, no one knew how.
Charlene shook her head, continuing on her way, wondering who would want to live in such a place. She didn't slow until she saw a run down shack. "Ah…home sweet home." She grumbled walking up to it. She opened the door and strode in not saying a word.
She heard gasps pf surprise at her sudden arrival. "Oh, Charlene! You're home." A woman looked up from stirring something on the stove. She looked worn and aged, but beneath all the wrinkles gained from living a hard life, she could not have been more than forty-five years old. She smiled somewhat hopefully. "Do you have…anything extra?"
Charlene shook her head slowly. "No. Sorry." She surveyed the rest of the house, which barely had two rooms, and a loft above that made up Charlie's room. Two old men and two old women lay in a bed and looked back at her. Another man sat at the table with the younger boy.
An awkward silence hung over the room. Charlene shuffled her cracked boots and uttered a soft sigh. "Hello everyone." She sat down at the table. "Should I even asked about everyone's day? Dad?"
The other occupants responded with a chorus of hellos. "Uneventful." Her dad said. "Except for this!" He said a little louder, pulling something that was white and plastic out of a pocket. "I thought you would need this Charlie."
The little boy's face broke out in a grin. "It's perfect dad!" He took the piece of plastic and hurried over to a cabinet, pulling out a model of a building made of plastic stuck together. He stuck it on top of a human like figure. "It's perfect for Mr. Wonka's head."
Charlene rolled her eyes. "You're still working on that thing?" She shook her head. "What a waste of time. I don't know what's so great about that place."
"I used to work for him." One of the elderly men spoke up. "Besides, he makes the most wonderful chocolate."
"You did Grandpa Joe?" Charlie asked, pulling a chair over to sit next to his grandfather.
Charlene snorted softly. "I've heard this too many times." She walked over to her mother grumbling softly, "Besides, that place gives me the creeps. I never get chocolate anyway." She smiled at her mother briefly. "Cabbage soup?"
"Yes." She replied shortly. "It's all that we have right now." She hugged Charlene briefly. "How did things go for you?"
"It's cold outside and it's cold inside most people." Charlene said. "I guess that's why Charlie's still in school, so he never has to deal with the cold." She sighed, seeing her mother's sudden pained expression. "Sorry…I'm just tired I guess. Do you need any help with dinner?"
"No, it's alright. Just try not to be too bitter, we are trying."
Charlene nodded, and upon seeing that Grandpa Joe had finished his story she walked back over to the table and sat down.
Charlie looked at her warily when she sat next to him and he got up abruptly to put away his model. Pretty soon dinner was ready and they all gathered around the bed where the elders lay and ate. Charlene held her tongue and made no comment on how much she hated cabbage soup. In fact, most everyone was silent. Grandpa Joe seemed to still be reliving his days when he worked for Mr. Wonka, Charlie too seemed to have his mind else where as he sat eating. Grandpa George grumbled, but even he was hesitant to break the silence.
When the meal was over, Charlie excused himself and climbed the ladder up to his bedroom in the loft above. Charlene helped her mom clean up before retreating to the sheets spread out on the floor in the corner of the kitchen, grabbing a candle, notebook, and pen on the way. She sat on the pile of old blankets with the lit candle by her. The grandparents turned in moments later, and her parents went off to their own bedroom, talking in hushed voices. The only noises in house were that of snoring and the soft scratching of the pen on paper.
As time passed gentle foot falls herald the approach of someone. Charlene snapped the notebook shut and glared up at the intruder, her mother and father. "What is it?" She asked a hint of annoyance in her voice.
"You should get to bed dear." Her mother started. "But…we're also worried about you. You hardly talk anymore unless it's something callous. Poor Charlie thinks you hate him."
Charlene wrinkled her brow. "That's it? No. I don't hate the boy."
"That's not the point. But perhaps envy is a better word for it?" Her father cut in.
Charlene stood, picking up her notebook and pen. "Whatever. Maybe I do, maybe I don't. At least he his parents gave him a chance to better himself. I got dropped like a stone." She pushed by them roughly. "I'm going for a walk. Don't wait up." Her voice was clipped short and cold.
The door swung open and slammed shut as Charlene made a quick exit before she could do something she'd really regret. This is so stupid. I'm twenty-seven. I should be on my own. I shouldn't have to put up with them anymore! She glanced back at the house and blinked, trying to clear her eyes. Had she just seen Charlie looking out the window at her? Had he heard? But no, she didn't see his face anymore.
She spun on her heel and forced herself not to think about it as she strode down the deserted streets in the semi-darkness. She avoided the streetlights for the most part and found a bench that was illuminated by the moon where she could sit.
Soon enough she had forgotten all about seeing Charlie look at her. But he had not forgotten seeing her storm out. He curled up on his bed and sighed, trying to shut out the sound of his older sister and parents arguing, that replayed over and over in his mind. Below him, he heard his parents whisper to each other and Grandpa George make some obscene comment before silence reclaimed hold of the house.
Charlene glanced up from her notebook, hearing the sound of engines. She stared out at the road in front of her as she heard the noise getting louder and louder. Until finally she saw a motorcyclist drive by. She frowned and turned back to her notebook.
But Charlene found it difficult to concentrate because she kept hearing the motorcyclist drive by. Either that or he had several buddies out with him too. Maybe it's a race or something. She sighed and shut her notebook, rising to her feet. She walked down the deserted sidewalk, head down staring thoughtfully at the snow beneath her feet. Her chest tightened in a cough, but she forced it back and only cleared her throat slowly.
She saw the house and headed toward it, shivering as the wind picked up and branches knocked against each other. She glanced back at the street as she heard yet another motorcycle and furrowed her brow when she saw it stop and post something on a pole. She paused and started to head toward it when the day caught up to her and she nearly collapsed in her sudden exhaustion.
Charlene quickly made up her mind and slipped into her house without a sound. She dived under her blanket and changed into her nightgown beneath it, pausing now and then to make sure that no one had heard her return. She only heard the steady breathing of the elders, and not a sound from the loft or the bedroom off to the right of the elder's bed.
Satisfied that she was the only person awake, she settled down and put the notebook under her lumpy pillow before drifting asleep.
Author's note: If you review, I will be more eager to update.