Author's Note: Wow. It's been... um... forever. Geeze maneeze! I had meant to update this one million years ago, and I guess I just... well. Summer's almost here, and that will give me more time to update. All I can really give you- those of you readers who either still care about this story or have not died from old age- is a big apology and a very long chapter. I don't think I'll bother with reviews, since most of you have probably forgotten what you've said. Well, maybe I'll just put them on this chapter a little later when I have enough time and exams aren't hovering over me like a dead goose.
Also, I would like to remind you to drop in a few random facts that you've found in the past, because as you can see I use them in my chapters. For those of you who have sropped in a few already: thank you so much for your support, and please keep up the good work! Look to see your facts in here, I guarantee you they're there.
Mrs. Hannah Bucket's eyes were aglow behind tears. Honestly, she hadn't thought she'd ever experience this kind of joy 20 years ago. Then again, she wasn't a mother 20 years ago. But she certainly felt like one now, as she gripped a small camera in her calloused fingers, shuffling around to get the right light for the fifteenth perfect shot of her son standing awkwardly in his tuxedo, ready to go to his first high school dance. She felt like a lioness on the prowl for fresh meat- meat in this case being a metaphor to a good memory in their family album, a massive monument to Bucket's past and present. There even a few pictures of Willy shoved awkwardly in there- he apparently wasn't one for photos- not nearly enough photos in Mrs. Bucket's opinion. Willy was the Unofficial Member of the Bucket Family now, so he had to share all of their embarrassing moment, like it or not. Thus, Mrs. Bucket had been chasing Willy around, trying to get a good shot of him with his grinning young heir.
"Please, Willy, this will go so much faster if you cooperate," Mrs. Bucket tried to get a snap of Willy backed into a corner, but he jumped out of the view just in time.
"It's bad enough having every darned person from here to Loompa-land poking their noses within my gates to see me, but I will definitely not tolerate-"
"Willy, come on, I'm going to be late!" Charlie protested.
"Don't forget you're supposed to be working for me tonight, but I was gracious enough to-"
"Oh, Mr. Wonka's just doing this for attention," Aunt Sarah came down the stairs, "He's just jealous because for once it's about good Charlie instead of him and all his chocolate glory."
"I certainly am not!"
"Oh, please, you are so-"
"Grey!"
"Can we just all get along for one second and take a bloody picture?" Mr. Bucket cried.
"Yes, let's Gather round, everybody!" Grandpa Joe said, setting up the camera. The rest of the grandparents bunched up next to Charlie and his parents. Sarah grabbed Willy, who was edging away to make his escape, and Willy grabbed an Oompa-Loompa who had come in to give Charlie a hand-crafted tribal corsage, The mass of people an Oompa-Loompa stood together for a moment, anticipating that somewhat frightening flash and click of the camera. The photo came out fine: everyone had been smiling except for Willy, who had been scowling, the Oompa-Loompa, who looked either solemn or confused, and Grandma Josephine, who had sneezed in the middle of the shot.
"Well, I suppose you must be off then," Mrs. Bucket sniffled, "Are you sure you don't want a sandwich before you go?"
"They have food at the dance, Mum."
"Oh," Mrs. Bucket crushed her son in a motherly bosom hug, "My boy's grown up so fast!" she shrieked.
"You're messing up his hair, Hannah." Sarah commented.
"Not to mention his air supply and blood flow to his brain," Grandpa George said. He winked at Charlie and decided to not try to pry Mrs. Bucket off him. That was Mr. Bucket's job. Aunt Sarah kissed her nephew on the cheek, his grandfathers and father gave him manly slaps on the back, Grandma Josephine made an attempt to comb his hair one more time, and a sulking Willy mumbled a low "have a good time… I guess," to his shiny shoes.
Grandma Georgina pulled Charlie aside, whispering "Beware of wolves in dragonfly's wings, Charlie."
"Don't you mean wolves in sheep's clothing?"
"No. I meant it, Charlie: sheep in llama's leotards are sure to bring a nice boy like you to your elbows."
"I love you, Grandma Georgina."
"Have a nice time at your bar mitzvah, Charlie," she smiled, and gave him a hug.
Charlie stepped outside the house, and took a final look inside at his family. "Well, I'm off, Buckets!" he grinned, and waved.
"Have a nice time, Charlie!" they all waved back and watched him exit the Chocolate Room to go out to the purple car.
Sarah's eyes rolled about the room. "Don't you hate it when someone takes a picture of you and then you see that little purple light after it flashes, but you can never directly look at it?" She went to boil some tea, but smacked into the table. "Stupid purple light…"
"I suppose I should be going as well," Willy turned to go, but Mrs. Bucket turned him around and sat him on the couch.
"You're not going anywhere, Mr. Wonka," Mrs. Bucket scolded. "Not without some dinner in your stomach. We're having lasagna tonight, and you need a bit of meat on those skinny legs of yours. Maybe you wouldn't trip over yourself all the time if you ate less candy and more lasagna. Have you washed up yet?"
"No ma'am," Willy whimpered.
"Well, do so quickly. Hurry, hurry! We're about to set the table! That goes for you too," she glanced at the Oompa-Loompa.
"It's the Empty Nest Feeling," Grandpa George mumbled under his breath to Willy, before turning off the television.
Willy gulped, terrified.
WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW
Charlie pulled up to Chelsea's house at 6:45 sharp in the sleek purple convertible. Her house was… big, to say in the least. It seemed to loom over him, as if to say, "What are you doing here, loser?" Charlie swallowed, before approaching the giant oak door and ringing the doorbell. In time, Chelsea poked her head out the window and waved, opening the door quickly.
Charlie had to keep his jaw from unhinging and clattering to the floor in awe. She looked like a goddess. No, she was even more beautiful than a goddess. She was swathed in a sleek silk baby blue dress that gently framed the curves of her body, with a cloud of lacy translucent, rhinestone-embedded white fabric enveloping her bare shoulders, hugging her thin waist, and falling like a waterfall off her hips to the floor. Her hair was twisted up in some confusing bun, the rest of the hair falling down in loose ringlets about her face and shoulders. From the sparkling pink gloss that was applied perfectly on those perfect pouting lips- oh, how he wished to be gloss upon those lips so that he may touch them!- to her dainty beautiful feet in those somewhat hazardous heels, she was every bit as perfect as he imagined her to be. Charlie just stood there, gaping.
"Well, what's the matter, Charlie? You look like you've seen a ghost!"
Not a ghost, an angel maybe…
Charlie could only utter strange gasps and gurgles. He fished out the corsage, and held it out to her. "T-t-t-this is for you," he stuttered. Chelsea smiled, and took it.
"Oh, it's beautiful! Wow, how much was this? I don't think I've ever seen flowers like this before!"
Charlie didn't bother to state it was because they were rare flowers from a country that not many humans had ever seen before either. He glanced behind her to see a shadow move across the wall. "Is someone in there?"
"It's… it's just my uncle. I told you about him, didn't I? Oh well, it doesn't matter, let's go!" she grabbed his hand and walked briskly to the car. Charlie opened the door for her, and she slid in, then he walked around and got in, putting the keys in and starting the car. As the drove down the street to their school, Charlie tried to make small talk.
"So… how have you been?"
"Good." Chelsea kept her eyes forward.
"That's good," Charlie paused. "Um… how have your grades been?"
"Hm? Oh," she smiled, "they've been great. I really can't thank you enough for your help, Charlie. I'm really getting the hang of it."
"That's wonderful." Charlie sighed, trying to keep his eyes on the road and not on how marvelous his date looked. "You look beautiful tonight. I mean, you look beautiful every day, but tonight you look… you know… ten times more beautiful. You- you know what I mean."
"I do," Chelsea smiled, "thanks. You look pretty good yourself."
"Thanks," Charlie blushed. Great, he was getting a great start on the night- first he had made himself look like a complete dunce, and now his English skills were malfunctioning. Wonderful. Next thing he knew, he would be spilling some staining drink on her expensive dress.
They arrived at the high school promptly, and Charlie got out first to open the door for Chelsea. She slid out, and when Charlie locked the car they walked arm-in-arm to the auditorium. It seemed as if everyone was there tonight, in their best clothes. Charlie felt a little embarrassed; his tuxedo was a rental and two sizes too big for him. Willy had offered to lend him one of his suits, however Charlie knew that he was way too short to wear Willy's stuff, and besides- Willy had a taste for the… extravagant. He would feel even more embarrassed walking in wearing a purple crushed velvet tuxedo with the collar in the shape of a giant "W" with little gold Ws embellished all over the shirt than a rental black tuxedo that was too big for him. So Charlie put his chin up, edged a little closer to Chelsea. Well, it really didn't matter- people were looking more at Chelsea and how marvelous she was than him. It gave him a bit of comfort to watch her do that cute little girlish finger-wiggle wave at her friends, because he knew he wasn't expected to do the same to his friends because well, he didn't have any. Not any real friends, anyway. Willy was his only true best friend.
And look what you're doing; leaving him behind in the factory to do your work while you go out and party. Some friend you are.
Well, Charlie thought, Willy isn't one for parties anyway. Or photos, for that matter. He smiled to himself, wondering what kind of torture Willy was going through in trying to escape from his mother, but then felt even more guilty about it, so he decided to not think about Willy or anything else for the rest of the night except for having a good time with Chelsea. Who would have guessed in a million years that Charlie, the loser of the sophomore class, would have been lucky enough to land the prettiest, nicest, most popular girl in school? Charlie himself couldn't believe it. Maybe it was a dream- all a wonderful dream- and the next morning Charlie would wake up the next morning and be 13 years old again with nothing but his family's love. No Willy, no chocolate factory, no inheritance, no Aunt Sarah, his grandparents still sick and his father still unemployed. Charlie grinned. This was some kind of great dream.
WWWWWWW
Willy hadn't been feeling to well to work, he claimed, so he decided to stay for dessert as well as dinner, because apparently he thought that might make him feel a little better. So, he was talking about the wonders of endorphins and the body when Grandma Georgina had an outburst.
"I love billboards!"
"Billboards?" Mr. Bucket asked nonchalantly.
"Yes! Billboards are wonderful!"
"Why are they wonderful? They're rectangular."
"I hate rectangles."
"Then why do you love billboards?"
"I never said I loved billboards."
"Yes you did."
"No, I said I loved album record cases."
"But those are rectangular too!"
"She doesn't know what she's talking about, John."
"Did you know that there aren't any billboards in the state of Vermont?" Sarah asked.
"Really? Why not?"
"I really don't know."
"I remembered why I hate billboards!" Grandma Georgina cried. "They ruin the landscape! Ugly buggers," she grumbled.
"That is true, isn't it?"
"Well, maybe that's why the Nice People Who Live In Vermont decided to not allow any there," Mrs. Bucket served the coffee cake, "Because there's such nice scenery in Vermont."
"And they have to use it sparingly," Grandpa George commented, "Vermont isn't all that big, is it?"
"I think it's big." Grandma Josephine stated.
"Well, it's not as big as other states," Grandpa George argued.
"It's bigger than Rhode Island," Grandpa Joe interjected.
"Everything's bigger than Rhode Island," Grandpa George rolled his eyes, "I'm bigger than Rhode Island."
"I like Rhode Island." Grandma Josephine pouted, "There are nice people in Rhode Island."
"Is that where the Oompa-Loompas came from?" Mr. Bucket inquired of Willy.
Willy looked up. "Um… no. They came from Loompaland."
"Where is Loompaland, actually?"
"I… um… it's kind of hard to say. Somewhere around the Caribbean."
"I also read," Sarah continued, "That in the Caribbean there are oysters that can climb trees."
"Oysters climb trees! No!" Grandma Josephine cried.
"Yes, indeed."
"But I thought oysters were sessile." Mr. Bucket took a bite of his coffee cake.
"I… I don't know if they are or not, I just know that they climb trees in the Caribbean."
"I know that oysters are bivalves, which means they have two shells and one muscular foot."
"Oysters have feet! No!" Grandma Josephine cried.
"Yes, indeed."
"I wonder if oysters climb trees in Vermont." Mr. Bucket pondered.
"I bet they don't." Grandpa George stated pessimistically.
"What's the spice in this cake, dear?" Grandma Josephine asked Mrs. Bucket.
"Nutmeg. I added something new in there."
"It's tasty."
"Nutmeg!" Willy snapped his fingers. "That could be it!"
"What could be, dear?" Grandma Josephine turned to Willy. (She treated him sort of like the Unofficial Grandson at times.)
"The missing ingredient," Willy stood up abruptly, sat down, and stood up again. "Charlie and I are working on this new candy, but every time we test it, it causes the consumer's tongue to pucker up in a most stringent manner, and it doesn't go away for quite a while. Anyway, we're looking for the missing ingredient."
"Oh! That's the other thing I was going to tell you, Hannah! I read that nutmeg is extremely poisonous if injected intravenously."
Mr. Bucket gagged a bit on his cake, and took a swig of coffee.
"Is nutmeg legal in Vermont?"
"I am almost positive it is. Why do you ask?"
"I don't know, if oysters don't climb trees there, and billboards aren't allowed there, then I suppose nutmeg shouldn't be allowed there either."
"Vermont certainly sounds like such a nice, safe place to live."
"John Deere was born in Vermont, wasn't he?"
"Are there deer in Vermont?"
"No, John Deere- the tractor person."
"I love tractors!" Grandma Georgina cried.
WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW
Meanwhile, Charlie and Chelsea had just finished dancing to the song, "Time After Time," by Cindi Lauper, and extremely slow and sappy song perfect for slow and sappy dancing. Charlie had never felt more blissful, standing there, with his hands on her shoulder and curvy waist, her small, delicate hands resting on his shoulders.
"I'm having a great time, Charlie," Chelsea smiled up Charlie.
"M-me too, Ch-Chelsea. Having a good time, I mean."
"I'm glad I could be your date," she paused. "I really like you, Charlie."
"I like you too, Chelsea." He was dreaming. He was dreaming. He was dreaming.
"You're really nice."
"You're the nicest girl I've ever met."
"That's so-"
"No, really," Charlie felt the words pour uncontrollably out of him like the waters of Niagara Falls. "you're too good for me. You're smart, and beautiful, and funny, and perfect in every way. I mean, I've never felt like this before. No girl's ever acted this way to me before. I… I don't know what I'd do without you, Chelsea."
"Really?" Chelsea stared at him. "That's… that's the nicest compliment anyone's ever given me."
Chelsea looked up at him with dazzling blue eyes, her long tree-like eyelashes fluttering like butterfly's wings. Charlie could feel his heart start to dance faster and faster, until it had danced its way up his throat and was at any moment going to make its way out of his mouth and break dance on the floor. Their faces unconsciously moved towards each other: closer, closer, closer, until they were only half an inch apart. Chelsea's sweet lips pressed against his, and Charlie saw fireworks explode in front of his. An electrifying shock ran up and down his spine, invigorating and rejuvenating every muscle and bone in his body. Charlie felt himself float up into the puffy purple and pink clouds of heaven; the kissing angel that was Chelsea had taken him there on her wings of beauty and grace. He forgot entirely about Willy, the factory, his family at home, his schoolwork, his secret- there was nothing but Chelsea in this blissful heaven. Suddenly, Chelsea pulled away, and Charlie saw the clouds and fireworks disappear. Tears pricked at Chelsea's eyes.
"Chelsea? What's… what's wrong?"
"Charlie, I… I can't," Chelsea pulled away from him, and dashed out of the dance room.
"Chelsea!" Charlie ran after her, but when he turned the corner, he saw she'd already gone. He sighed dejectedly, walking slowly back to the dance room. Great. He'd gone and poured his stupid heart out to here, and come on too strong. Now she wouldn't ever like him ever. What a loser he was! Charlie sadly took a seat at the bench on the side of the auditorium, next to Veronica Walsh.
"Hey, Charlie." She said.
"Hey, Veronica." He said, staring at the entrance to see if Chelsea would come in.
"Where's your girlfriend?" she said.
"I… I don't know." He sighed, resting his chin on his hand.
"Oh." She said, opening a candy bar. Veronica was what people would call "pleasantly plump". She wasn't fat, but she wasn't slender and curvy like Chelsea. No one was like Chelsea, however. Chelsea was one in a million. Charlie should have known he was too… well, ordinary to deserve her.
But you're not ordinary. You're the heir to the biggest and most marvelous factory in the world!
I'm ordinary enough to not deserve her, Charlie thought sadly. His heart had now popped out of his mouth from dancing, and was now laying trodden on the floor. Veronica had spilled something on the stomach of her pink dress, and was now cursing under her breath and trying to get it out. She sighed and gave up presently, denouncing it as a lost cause, and turned to Charlie.
"You know what makes me feel better when something goes terribly wrong?"
"What." Charlie said, even though he didn't exactly care.
"Chocolate," Veronica broke off a piece, "Specifically Wonka's Mint-and-Fudge Filled Truffle Delight."
Wow. Ironic.
"Chocolate," she said matter-of-factly, "Has been proven to make people feel better. You see, chocolate contains endorphins-"
"Which are released into the body system," Charlie droned, he had heard this one million times from Willy, since he liked to repeat himself, "giving one the feeling of happiness."
And the feeling of being in love. Love stinks.
Veronica held out the piece of fudge-and-mint-truffle-delight to him. Charlie first looked at it disapprovingly, but then shrugged and took it.
"Thanks." He said.
"No problem," Veronica said, and took a big bite out of what was left of the bar of candy.
Charlie half-heartedly bit into it. He hadn't ever thought he'd say the day when he didn't thoroughly enjoy the taste of a Wonka bar. Maybe this whole thing was just tearing him up. Maybe he'd lose his knack for candy-making forever. Willy was angry at him, Chelsea didn't want him, and he was stranded at the auditorium with a trampled heart. Charlie had been up in the blissful clouds of heaven, but now he had the feeling he had been shot down quickly and had now landed painfully on his head.
