Alright, I know I've been AWOL for a few months or so, and that's my fault entirely. It was an extreme disservice to all of my readers who have taken time out of their days to review and encourage me. I'm sorry. But, before I get the mood to down with all my amend-making, let me escort you to the shiny new chapter below. As they always say: better late than never.

Please enjoy this new chapter, however late it may be!

As Charlie stepped out into the open for the first time in several months, he noticed something new about the world. It was ugly.

Composed entirely of different shades of brown and grey, even the polished steal of the factory walls was muted by the dull palette. For the first time Charlie began to understand Mr. Wonka's hatred of the outside. Why live in a disappointing world without color when you can create a better one out of candy?

The sounds were different too. In the factory, things had a sense of peace to them. There was always a song to be heard, if you knew where to look. And the constant whirring of machinery was always a comfort if you were feeling alone. The only noises Charlie heard now were the irregular snapping of camera bulbs and the dull roar of the crowd.

Mr. and Mrs. Bucket were in front of him, shielding Charlie from the barrage of journalists as best they could. Grandpa Joe walked along side him, grasping his shoulder comfortingly. Charlie jumped as a particularly aggressive woman had successfully reached the top of the fence and was screaming incoherently at the top of her lungs. Her voice was echoed by a terrified shriek directly behind them. Mr. Wonka seemed to be frozen in terror, his sociophopia preventing him from taking another step. With as reassuring an expression as the young heir could muster, he turned around and grabbed Mr. Wonka by the hand urging him forword.

"A-heh…maybe I should, um…" Mr. Wonka stuttered. His eyes and smile growing wider with every step.

"Nonsense, Willy!" Grandpa Joe said jovially, as if they were taking a stroll through the chocolate room, "You've got your…protection all in order. I imagine you'll be quite safe no matter what we run into! No matter how horrible!"

"Oh dear…" Mr. Wonka squeaked, stopping completely again, no liking the picture Grandpa Joe had created one bit. Even Mr. and Mrs. Bucket had stopped now and were watching the scene with worried faces, oblivious to the fact that the rest of the crowd was doing the same, only their expressions were hungry. And not for chocolate, either.

"Yes, Mr. Wonka," Charlie said pleadingly, "It will only be a minute or so longer. Just until I'm out the gate." In truth, Charlie was feeling as frightened as Mr. Wonka, maybe more so. After all, once all this madness was said and done, he would retreat back into the recesses of his factory to brew and concoct all he pleased. Charlie would be drifting alone for six hours a day, five days a week. He didn't even know what his class schedule was.

With cameras still blazing, Charlie motioned to one of the Oompa Loompa gate operator that he was read to leave. With a reluctant groan, the gate slowly opened. The moment this happened it seemed, to Charlie at any rate, that it had been a very poor idea.

A cacophony of high pitched squeals erupted as the doors began opening. One that Mr. Wonka gladly contributed to. It seemed as if the number of spectators had doubled in that instant.

"My God!" Mr. Bucket exclaimed in disbelief, "Shouldn't the authorities be doing more to control this? There must to be a law being broken somewhere in this crowd!" Charlie noticed that as soon as his father had uttered those words, a large group of men in blue uniforms and caps began clearing path through the incessant crowd and towards a school bus. His school bus. This was all a fact that Charlie was reluctant to accept. He had been holding onto the hope that the crowd would simply never stop screaming and he, his family and Mr. Wonka could go on living just as they had been. Completely worry free. But that was not the case.

"Charlie!" Mrs. Bucket cried as best she could over the noise, "Charlie, darling come here! You don't want to be late!"

If the situation had been a little less stressful, Charlie might have wondered how his mother managed to maintain such normal conversation amidst such a bizarre scenario. But unfortunately, Charlie wasn't in a mood for musing. And so, with heavy steps the boy reluctantly walked towards his mother and the roaring crowd behind her. After giving a final hug to his mother and father as well as a wave to a petrified Mr.Wonka and smiling Grandpa Joe, he took his first step outside the factory. Unfortunately, Charlie didn't have the time to savor it (if he had wanted to, which he did not). Almost immediately after leaving the factory, two large policemen grabbed his back and dragged him through the crowd. On girl managed to grab hold of his coat, but she dropped it again quickly. It is remarkably difficult to keep a grip on something if you're faced with an unpleasant amount of pepper spray.

In what seemed to be three seconds, Charlie was through the crowd and on the bus. To his surprise and chagrin, the policemen got on with him. The other children looked at him with wide eyes. After all, this was Charlie Bucket. The luckiest boy in all the world.

If only they had known that, at that moment, Charlie Bucket felt quite the opposite.

"Oh dear…" Mrs. Bucket said softly as the great doors that separated them from the outside closed noiselessly behind them, "You don't think that will happen every morning, do you?"

Mr. Bucket looked up from his examination of the floor tiles and sighed, "I don't think it will last forever, but…" he fell silent again. Willy bit his lip. The word forever had never been a favorite of his, in any context. He much rather preferred words like 'always' and 'my way'.

"Ahem," the chocolatier squeaked with importance, "I think that now might be a good time to bring up the, um, possibility that Charlie will…" he paused, searching for the right words, "stop going to school." Mr. and Mrs. Bucket exchanged worried glances.

"Willy?" Mrs. Bucket asked earnestly, "I thought we'd discussed why we felt it was important for Charlie to attend school. I thought you agreed with us."

"Well, yeah," Willy said matter-of-factly, "But that was before," he sniffed, "Now I've changed my mind." The Bucket's faces fell.

"I understand you're position, Mr. Wonka," Mr. Bucket said, addressing Willy in a way he hadn't for months, "But school doesn't only teach mathematics, it teaches social skills." Willy stared at him blankly.

"All boys need friends," Grandpa Joe explained kindly. Willy furrowed his brow.

"Well that's not true at all!" Willy exclaimed indignantly, "All I ever needed was myself and that's all that Charlie needs: me." No one said anything as the tiny tantrum ended and Willy began tapping his foot impatiently, "Well? What do you have to say to that?"

Mr. Bucket began to speak but Mrs. Bucket caught his arm, bidding him to stop. With a deep breath and steely eyes she started speaking, "Willy, I think you are being childish and silly and I am very disappointed in you," Willy stopped tapping his foot, "We need your support financially to send Charlie to Freemount, but if you oppose the idea so strongly, we can find another way. Mr. Bucket is not the only one of us that can work." It was clear that she was no longer addressing Willy alone, but her whole family as well, "I can get a job as a seamstress or work at a grocer."

"Don't think you're the only one you can pitch in, dear," Grandpa Joe said reassuringly, "There's some juice left in these old bones, yet."

Mrs. Bucket smiled, "Thank you, Dad. And Willy, I hope you change your mind about Charlie's education. I understand you have a fear of crowds and the prospect of so many people coming to the factory on a regular basis must be hard, but you have to understand how much it will be helping Charlie."

Willy looked as if he had been punched in the stomach. The shock wore off quickly though and turned into anger. With a wrinkled nose and pursed lips, the great chocolatier turned on his heal and walked towards the glass elevator. With a look of betrayal aimed directly at Mrs. Bucket, he pressed the button labeled 'Top' and sped away without saying a word.

Mrs. Bucket looked heartbroken as he vanished out of sight. Mr. Bucket walked over to her and touched her arm gently.

"It had to be said, love. And I think you had to be the one to say it." Mrs. Bucket nodded sadly and Mr. Bucket continued, "Remember how Charlie was a few years ago? I thought he would never look us in the eye again after some of the fights we would have, but look at him now. Willy has always been able to do things exactly as he likes. Change won't come easily. It will take time and patience."

"I know, dear." Mrs. Bucket sighed deeply, "But I can't help but feel like I'veslappedthe poor dearacross the face."

The school bus wheezed up the front of the school. It was large, made up of several identical square buildings next to a square court yard and a square reflecting pool. The only thing that wasn't uniform was Charlie. He stood out like a sore thumb on the campus, the grey uniform he wore obscured by his giant green coat. Whether that was the reason he was targeted by a small, plump lady in a grey suit and pulled back hair or the fact that private school officials can smell individuality a mile away, Charlie didn't have time to ponder. It had been less than a minute after he had gotten off the school bus when the lady in question, known as Miss Bumblebotts or "Bumblebutt" by the younger students, had him by the ear.

"What do you think this abomination is, young man?" Charlie had to think a while before answering. To him, the whole school was an abomination.

"Well?" She asked shrilly while her long, manicured fingernails pinched him dreadfully.

"A coat, ma'am." Charlie cried, squirming to get out of her grip.

"Don't be fresh with me, young man. I mean what are you doing with it?"

Charlie gulped, "Wearing it, ma'am."

The fierce woman growled slightly, "Article V of the Dress Code Regulations clearly states that all coats worn by the students should be black in color and reach no longer than the waist. Your…coat breaks both those regulations. Remove it at once and put it in your locker until the end of the day. For every time I see it, including now, you shall earn a demerit. Do I make myself clear?" Charlie nodded and Miss Bumblebotts let go of his ear, satisfied. As quick as she had come, the hefty woman waddled towards the school's entrance, stopping only to take the chewing gum of an older girl. It was only after she had disappeared behind the large wooden doors did Charlie realize he had no idea where his locker was.

"One minute, and I already hate it here," Charlie mumbled bitterly to himself.

"Don't worry," a low, posh voice said from behind him, "It gets better as you get used to it."

Charlie turned towards the voice and groaned audibly when he saw the speaker. Now he knew he was going to hate it here.

Again, I am truly sorry for the length wait time between this update and the last. Honestly, if all my reviewers have abandoned me, I wouldn't be surprised. But if you are there…drop me a line to tell me you're still interested in this old shoe of a story.