Author's Note: Wow… I've been away for a bit of time… (Looks blankly around, blinking.)

To NerdyforWonkaNerds: Laughter heals the soul! Unless you are demonically possessed, in which your laughter is more demonic cackling than spiritual giddiness. Have you ever noticed that antagonists in movies cackled evilly at things that aren't funny? For example: "I'll get you, my pretty, and your little dog too! Mwahahahahaha!"

To PucktoFaerie: I would like to see Willy and Sarah have like, a mud fight of wrestling tournament or something. (pauses) Nah, never mind. I take it back.

To ILoveLock: I have a REASON for making Chelsea the way she is, dear! Hold your darned horses! But thank you for the compliment. How does your cat taste, exactly?


"Mr. Bucket!" a shrill voice snapped, "Pay attention, or I shall kick you out of this classroom, so help me!"

Charlie stirred, when something hit his knuckles, causing them to sting like fire. He jumped at this sensation, his eyes snapping open. A ruler. He had rapped on the knuckles by a ruler. His English teacher was standing before him, tapping her foot. He must've fallen asleep in class; dreaming about what happened last night.

"Sorry," he mumbled, rubbing his knuckles. His teacher turned back to the board, droning on about how to use and abuse the exalted semicolon. Charlie sighed. He must be careful to not do that again. If his grades dropped any lower, it'd be the end of business with Willy on school days for him. And that wouldn't be good. Not at all. But at east his color was back to normal. Another few minutes and the bell rang. Just like that, the quiet classroom became a pen full of angry buffalo-herd-high-schoolers, pushing all to get out through a tiny little door to their next class; footsteps like thunder.

"Charlie?" A soft voice beside him said. Charlie turned to see Chelsea staring at him. He kept back a soft noise in his throat. "Oh… ah… yes?" he gurgled.

"Are we still on for this afternoon?"

"Th-this afternoon?"

"Tutoring."

"Oh yes. Yes. We are. On for tutoring, that is. Yes." He managed a jerky nod. She smiled.

"Okay, then. I'll see you later."

"Bye," Charlie said, as she turned to leave.

The next three classes whizzed by, it seemed, in seconds. Soon it was almost a few minutes for the bell.

Ugh, I'm nervous. Why am I this nervous? I shouldn't be this nervous. It is, after all, tutoring. Nothing more, nothing less. Just plain, friendly teaching another peer.

Another peer that's a girl, that annoying little voice said.

Yeah. So?

So, you've never really felt this way about a girl before.

It's only normal to have feelings for another girl at my age. At any age. I am, after all, an average teenage boy.

No. You're not. You're a teenage heir to a factory that has to be kept secret.

So what?

Girls are all about being honest with everyone. You know that. Not many girls like boys that keep secrets from them.

And?

And you're whole identity if a sort of secret, buddy. You can't tell ANYONE about where you live, what you do after school, or anything like that. ESPECIALLY your girlfriend. She might blab to all her friends about you, or worse… steal a recipe.

Chelsea wouldn't do that.

Oh no? Watch. And Willy won't like it one bit. You know how he feels about people.

But I'm not Willy Wonka. I'm Charlie Bucket.

Not anymore. That may be your cover-up, your alias- but the truth is that inside you've slowly turned into pure, 100-percent Wonka.

The bell rang. Charlie dismissed that blasted little voice, drowning it out by concentrating on the roaring voices of his fellow students. He stopped by his locker, picked up his books, and when closing it, turned and ran into his new pupil.

"Oh… sorry…" he bent down to help pick up Chelsea's books.

"Don't worry about it," Chelsea said quietly. They walked outside of the building to the parking lot.

"I should've told you, my house is locked today. My parents knew I was going somewhere, and they both have to work, so we can't go over to my house to study."

Charlie was half-listening. His eyes were on the speeding purple car coming up to the pick-up section of the parking lot. A window rolled down. Charlie slowly shook his head, turning.

"Well, that's okay; we can go study in the library. The library's a lovely place to study. In fact, that's really what it's there for." He said hurriedly, grabbing Chelsea's shoulders and jerking her around, away from the car.

"Can't we drive there-"

"Why drive when you can walk? It's only a couple of blocks. Besides, walking is wonderful exercise." And with that, he started walking briskly away, in hopes that Chelsea would follow him instead of stare at the violet car with the tiny drivers inside.

What did I tell you?

"Shut up," Charlie growled.

"What?" Chelsea asked. She was beside him now.

"Oh… erm… what's up?"

"Oh. Nothing, really. Just trying to get by with grades. What's up with you?"

"Um… same."

"You fell asleep in class today."

"Oh… yeah." Charlie hadn't forgotten. His knuckles were still red. Thankfully not purple.

"So… are you getting enough sleep?"

"Yeah. It's just… boring, you know?" Charlie said. This was half-true, at least.

"Totally. I mean, who honestly needs to know the history of the semicolon? It certainly doesn't help you in life's lessons."

"Well, it could be a question in Jeopardy, or something."

"Oh yes, of course. 'I'll take useless information about mechanical English tools for 200, please.'"

Charlie laughed. That seemed like something his aunt would pick. "What is: Aldus Manutius?"

Chelsea grinned. "Something like that."

They arrived at the library, chose a table, sat down, and pulled out their books.

"So… chemistry," Charlie said quietly, because well, they were in a library after all.

"Yes. Chemistry," Chelsea echoed, even quieter. She was staring at something behind him, but snapped out of her trance a moment later.

"What did you want to know?"

"Well, what I couldn't get was…"

I apologize for the brief interruption, dearest darlingest readers, but I've concluded that this part of the story is completely irrelevant to the rest of the plot. Partially because I don't wish to put you (actually, mainly me) asleep, I will skip past the rather tedious tutorial. But I will let you know that Charlie was an excellent tutor, and Chelsea understood it perfectly. Let's go ahead two hours….

"Well, that's about it. Do you think you've got it?" Charlie said, sitting back. Chelsea closed her book.

"Perfectly. Thank you so much, Charlie. I really appreciate this." She closed her book, and put it in her book satchel. Charlie noticed a pin on the flap of the bag.

"Lionel Ritchie?" he smiled, quizzically.

Chelsea glanced down. "Oh. Erm, yes. I have a secret passion for the Commodores. Dorky, I know." She said embarrassedly.

"I love the Commodores!" Charlie grinned. "Everyone in my family does." He thought of his aunt in an afro, and chuckled.

"What's your favorite song?" Chelsea leaned in.

"Brick house. Definitely."

"No way. Nightshift is the best."

"You're crazy!" Charlie joked.

"You're…" Chelsea stopped, staring again past Charlie. Charlie turned around.

"What are you staring at-" he started. Chelsea pushed her books unto her bag, and stood up.

"I- I have to go. See you tomorrow." She said, and started walking quickly towards the door. Charlie got up.

"Oh. Well, do want me to walk you home or something?"

"No. Just... I don't know. I'll see you tomorrow, Charlie."

"But-"

Chelsea hurried out the door and out of sight. Charlie sighed. "Yeah. See you tomorrow."

He packed up and walked outside, and began walking across the street towards the sprawling grey pillows of smoke of the factory. Suddenly, a purple car- the purple car- came zooming out of nowhere towards him. Charlie stopped in the middle of the road, staring in horror. It screeched to a halt, several centimeters from his knees. An Oompa-Loompa rolled down the window and looked at him.

"How did you find me?" Charlie asked, getting into the driver's seat. The Oompa-Loompa pointed at a screen- newly installed, which had a blinking radar on it. The blinking point was in the shape of a red C. A purple W was in the corner where the factory should be, darting around.

"Wow. Clever." Charlie said, pushing on the gas pedal.

WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW

"Did you have nice time on your date, darling?" Mrs. Bucket looked up from the soup. (Which was not cabbage, rather, potato.)

"It wasn't a date, Mom." Charlie grunted, coming in to the house. "It was a tutoring lesson."

"Whatever, darling."

"Back in my day," Grandma Josephine said pointedly, "We called it a date. I don't have the faintest idea what you young people are calling it."

"What could you possibly teach a young lady on a date, Charlie?" Grandpa Joe said. "I hope it's nothing indecent. Your parents didn't raise you to be a scallywag."

"Well, you certainly didn't make a very good example," Grandma Josephine teased.

Charlie blushed. An old person flirting wasn't exactly the most appetizing spectacle.

"Charlie isn't capable of romancing a young lady from her skirts," Grandpa George huffed, "He'd be too much of a prude to wonder what's underneath."

"I am not a prude!" Charlie protested, pride hurt. High school boys don't normally like to have their rugged man-skills jeered at by old men who hardly cannot eat without their dentures falling out.

"Did someone say prunes?" Grandma Georgina brightened.

"Don't be eating prunes, mother," Aunt Sarah walked in to the kitchen, going to help her sister-in-law with dinner, "They make you gassy. Did you have a nice date, Charlie?"

"It wasn't a date!" Charlie practically shouted.

"Tutoring, whatever. You didn't try anything too scandalous on you lady-friend, did you, dear? You're a Bucket, and Buckets must learn to control their amazingly good looks and dazzling charisma; use their powers for good, instead of evil." She flipped her hair, which didn't do much good because it was a bun, and instead knocked Mrs. Bucket in the head with her head. Both of them clutched their heads, groaning "Owwwwwww…"

"Yes, that's very attractive, indeed," Grandpa George snorted, "I can't believe I'm not blind from your graceful light."

"You're almost blind," Grandpa Joe reminded him.

"I never liked pork rinds," Grandma Georgina wrinkled her nose in the same fashion as her daughter, "I prefer pickled corn. Are we having pickled corn tonight?"

There was a knock at the door, and Willy came in with a box of something. "Good evening, Bucket family," he smiled, flashing his pearly whites.

"Now those things could blind someone," Grandpa George said, shielding his eyes.

"Good evening, Willy," Mrs. Bucket said, rubbing her head, "We're just about to have supper. Would you like to sit down?"

"I brought minced apples with a caramel shell," Willy held up his package. "Newly released this afternoon. I couldn't find you to let you know, Charlie. Where were you?"

"Oh, didn't you know, Willy?" Mrs. Bucket asked, "Charlie went on a date."

"IT WASN'T A DATE!"

"Even the Oompa-Loompas knew about it before him," Grandpa George said lowly. Grandma Josephine hushed him.

"Blech. I could never understand why innocent young men would put themselves in situations like d-d-dating in my school days. Considering the circumstances,"

"What circumstances?" Charlie said, in spite of himself.

"Well, you know, considering that girls have…" he paused, staring down at his plate.

"Have what?" Mr. Bucket asked.

"Have… you know…" he leaned in, and whispered, "Cooties."

There was a long pause. Everyone in the room stared at the chocolatier, before the room erupted into hysterical laughter. Even Sarah, who had been sending deadly glares at Willy from across the table, started to snicker and snort.

Willy was bewildered. "What?"

"You honestly mean that you think…?" Charlie said between fits of laughter.

"Think what?" Willy's eyes were as wide as teacups.

"Willy, old chap, we might need to have a talk," Mr. Bucket gasped for air, his face red with laughing.

"About what!"