A/N: Response time!

Gs33022, you'll finally get to find that out! In addition, your answer to your prediction is here! You'll get to see now if your hope turned up.

Violet struggled with the internal conflict throughout her Bill's Candy Shop shift the following afternoon. She was preoccupied also with the very high likelihood that she and Charlie would cross paths when she left, as that always had been the case with every Saturday up to now. In theory, it would be easier just to leave the store a little bit later to avoid this interception, whereupon she could head back to the factory and pretend that nothing ever had happened.

On the other hand, if she just dodged this problem, then, as she knew, she would be back to square one. Unless she was missing something, everybody she had tried to impress didn't like her. Since Charlie's mother had mentioned him coming from a forgiving, humble family, Violet figured that Charlie might be an easier attempt. Violet's mother was right; now that Violet knew about her escape hatch, she was trying to utilize it despite her age. If Scarlett could be here, what would she think?

It wasn't an easy decision, but Violet finally made up her mind by the time the shift was over. Charlie had been nothing but nice to her all along. Swallowing her pride for the moment, she took a little more time getting her coat and everything on in the storage room so that she couldn't be seen by Charlie while he was peeking through the window. Once he was gone, she asked Bill for several specified trinkets, paying for them with some of the cash from that afternoon.

After she left, she walked very slowly along the stretch of sidewalk, towards the laundromat where she had found Mrs. Bucket by accident, in order to make sure that she was giving Charlie enough time to finish his route. That way, he would be home before she got there.

Violet could not believe that she was doing this. As she walked through the alley tunnel and towards the Bucket cottage after turning back around, she thought nervously, Just once. I'll get there, I'll apologize, I'll see if he likes me back, and then I'll be done with this family.

...

Mrs. Bucket was dusting the furniture, and Charlie was using a rag towel to scrub a window, when everybody suddenly heard the door being knocked on. They all were confused; they weren't expecting a visitor this afternoon. Mrs. Bucket, though, had a fairly good idea of who it was once she reflected on her accidental encounter with Violet, but was still unsure. Regardless, Mrs. Bucket approached the door very cautiously and opened it.

Sure enough, Violet was in the doorway. Charlie's grandparents turned to look at the guest who was standing just outside, all of them stunned. They had opted to let go of the incident, but now here she was again, in the flesh, and they weren't quite sure what to expect. Why had she come back?

"Hi," Violet said nervously, and almost monotonously at that. "Is Charlie home?"

"As a matter of fact, he is!" Mrs. Bucket answered. On hearing his name, Charlie turned to look. He recognized Violet immediately and was just as confused as his grandparents.

Violet stepped forward slightly. "Then I'd like to talk to him."

The confusion of everybody except Mrs. Bucket only intensified. "Have you come to apologize?" asked Grandpa Joe, one eyebrow rising.

Violet gave a tiny nod. Mrs. Bucket stepped aside to let her inside. Once in the cottage, Violet glimpsed Charlie having paused his window-scrubbing to look at her skeptically. "Charlie?"

Charlie walked up to her, going around his grandparents' bed, but still keeping a few meters' distance from Violet. "What is it?"

Violet gave an embarrassed sigh. Struggling to keep eye contact, she told him, "I'm sorry. I was a total jerk on Sunday. I was hoping to make it up, since I have some free time."

"Make up in what way?" asked Grandpa George.

Violet winced. Addressing Charlie specifically, she continued, "Well, to be honest, I ran into your mom at her workplace after school let out yesterday. She told me that she and your grandparents weren't angry anymore, but I wasn't so sure about you."

Charlie anticipated that Violet would continue further, having observed her motormouth so far from these past few weeks, so he didn't say anything just in case she wasn't done talking yet.

"Anyway, as I knew already, Halloween will be next week. I heard that you can't usually get candy whenever you want like I can, so I thought about this." Swiftly, she opened her handbag and pulled out a Scrumdiddlyumptious Bar, a regular Wonka bar, and a small pack of candy balloons. She then reached into her coat and pulled out a large lollipop that had been resting in an inner pocket. "All of these are for you. Consider them the luxury candy that you're finally getting."

Charlie brightened up, his mouth opening from his awestruck grin. "Do you really mean it?"

"Yes." Violet answered. She used both hands to hold them out.

Charlie accepted the candy gifts immediately. "Thank you!"

Violet gave a slight nod in acknowledgement. She thought back to when she was selecting the goodies at random. She had considered including a pack of gum so that Charlie might get hooked and like it, and then they might have something in common that would make impressing him easier to accomplish, but she had changed her mind. On the off-chance that he might grow to like gum as much as she did (he had named it as an example of a financial luxury, after all), he might start chewing it long-term, and then what if he snatched up a world record for how long he had chewed a single piece? She may be trying to get his trust back reluctantly in order to dispose of her curse as quickly as possible, but there was just no way that she was going to risk letting him be better than she was, especially not when it came to her biggest passion in the world. Charlie wouldn't have become a compulsive gum-chewer if she had gone with the one-time pack—he was raised on better manners—but Violet didn't know.

Violet watched as Charlie tore open the wrapper on the Wonka bar, breaking off a piece immediately afterwards to eat it. He then proceeded to break off the other little rectangles that formed the bar and handed one each to his mother and grandparents. When he asked around for dibs on the rest of the bar, they all insisted that the remainder was all his.

After each member of the household had finished their parts of the Wonka bar, all commenting that it was delicious and thanking Violet profusely, Charlie opted to stash the other three items.

"I'm going to save these for Halloween evening," he said as he set them aside on a pantry shelf in the nearly empty kitchen space. "Then I'll have something finally when everybody else is getting candy!"

"So, am I all set now?" Violet asked nervously.

"In what way?" Charlie asked.

"I mean…do you like me again?"

"Well, I feel much better than I did last week, if you're getting at that."

"No, no, not that. I mean, have I impressed you enough?"

"I hope that you're not asking what I think," said Grandma Josephine hesitantly. "Charlie is only twelve. That's way too young for a relationship."

"Yeah, I know," said Violet. "My parents don't want me dating yet, either. I just need to know if everything's good again. I haven't been making a lot of friends."

For the grandparents, it was easy to see why, given their only other encounter with her. They kept mum on it, though, both for politeness's sake and because she was acting a bit better today.

"I think it all is," Mrs. Bucket confirmed, smiling warmly. "Thank you again for the early Halloween candy! I'm glad you decided to reconcile like this."

Violet was reminded of when she and Cornelia Prinzmetel had made up after the hoopla that was the former being unable to go to that birthday party. Cornelia had offered Violet a pack of Wonka gum after overhearing Violet complaining that she had run low on her supply, long before she even thought about trying to chew for a world record (Cornelia had Violet beaten cold in that department), and the two had decided to be friends again, with Violet clarifying not to attempt any after-dark activities with her again. Of course, there was a big difference here; Cornelia was subtly a bad influence who didn't help matters with Violet's already snobbish attitude, while Charlie was a well-mannered kid who just received a bit of good fortune, however small and short-term it was. Both had the same result, though, however insignificant it seemed to the bearer.

Knowing that there was no hope of getting mutual interest right now (she had planned on just a quick kiss and being done with it), Violet's self-consciousness over standing in a shack eased back. Looking around subconsciously, she stuttered, "Well, umm…I have…uh…I have to go now." She was almost to opening the door when Mrs. Bucket stopped her.

Mrs. Bucket recognized the nervously artificial tone of voice, remembering it from their talk yesterday afternoon. "Oh, why don't you talk with Charlie for a bit?" she encouraged enthusiastically. "You said that you had plenty of free time, and also mentioned not being able to make friends lately. Charlie hasn't had a lot of friends accept us, so this seems like a golden opportunity. It shouldn't take long. I'll take care of scrubbing the rest of the windows." Beside her, her son was smiling eagerly.

"Did I really say that? About the free time, too?" she asked, retaining the nervous tone.

All of the grandparents nodded.

Oops. Violet's motormouth had been at it with revealing too much information again. "Well, okay, fine. For a moment," she answered finally. She took off her trench coat, hat, and gloves to reveal a red sailor-type dress with a black ascot. In retrospect, she had dressed in just the fitting attire for an interview, quite poetic for being encouraged to talk with somebody she had met for brief moments.

"Come on, I'll show you to my room!" Charlie exclaimed once Violet had gotten her winter gear draped over the wash bin by the door. He led her over to one of the two other rooms on the other end of the shack. To Violet's lack of surprise, there was barely anything in his room, just a mattress, a closet, and a desk, none of which looked very high-quality. He gestured her to sit next to him on the mattress, which she did after making sure that it wasn't too filthy.

...

"So, anyway, that's why it means so much to me that you took the extra effort to do that," Charlie told Violet during their conversation. He had been discussing to her the full details of his financial situation, specifically how he got only one chocolate bar a year, on his birthday, and how this was the first time he ever would get to try a lollipop, and how he never got free candy on certain occasions because his family couldn't afford the prerequisites (such as Halloween costumes) for those specific events. Violet had gotten bored partway through the conversation and had played with her gum several times by wrapping it around her right index finger while stretching.

"Yeah, I know," she replied. "Your mother told me all of that when I ran into her. Apparently, she works at a laundromat, if I'm correct?"

"Yes, but it's the old-fashioned kind, without any of those machines," Charlie answered. "The pay isn't too good, but at least my family and I aren't at Oliver Twist's level. I don't know if you've heard of that book, but the main character is an orphan who lives in a facility where the staff treat him horribly, practically like vermin, and he struggles to survive on gruel, later encountering a bunch of criminals. He has it much worse than I do. I'm sick of cabbage water with bread, sure, but I don't complain because it's a full meal that I actually get to eat. Ever since I got hired by Mr. Jopeck to deliver the evening papers, I've been helping out some with the finances, too."

"Yes, I have heard of that book," Violet responded, not acknowledging Charlie's main point about his standards of living. Changing the subject, she nosily asked out of curiosity, "So, I haven't been seeing your dad around at all. What's up with that?"

Charlie became deathly silent, a stunned look etched in his mouth. After a few seconds, he finally answered quietly, "I'm afraid he's no longer with us."

"Oh, really? What happened?"

"It's a very painful subject. To put it simply—well, you know about freezing cold winters around here? The times when even the wind feels chilly?"

Violet shrugged. She hadn't actually been here for the winter, but she could imagine. Montana regularly got into the negative degrees Fahrenheit for a large portion of that time of year.

"My dad used to work at a toothpaste factory in a distant part of town, a bit further from here than my school is. He would sit next to an assembly line and screw the caps onto freshly-filled tubes of toothpaste. As you have seen, we don't own a car, so he had to walk home from work the same way I walk home from school. Well, one day—it was in the middle of January, and I was seven years old—we had a really cruel blizzard in the area. My dad was coming home from work, but I guess something must have happened because he came in late and claimed that he got caught up in a bit of fog. When he finally walked in the front door, he was extremely lethargic, and while my mom let him rest for the entire evening, he just started shivering, which got worse and worse. When he wasn't better the next morning after being warmed up by our one spare blanket, my mom squandered what little money we had left over to get a doctor on house call. It turned out that Dad had caught moderate hypothermia, but despite the doctor's best efforts, Dad didn't get better. He died a few days later. I feel like he would have made it had we owned a better house and more articles for warmth. I still miss him every day!" Charlie's voice was starting to creak at the horrifying memory. The poor kid looked like his world was about to fall apart. "Since he was the only one who had a job in this family, my mom had to take over, but the laundry paid just as poorly as the toothpaste factory did. When school started this year, I felt obliged to pitch in and became the paperboy." He paused in an attempt to collect himself. "Violet, I don't know if there is a God, but if there is, I constantly have to resist the urge to look towards the sky and scream 'WHY?' to Him as loudly as I possibly can over this."

Violet imagined her own father back at home getting caught in Montana's wicked winter weather and dying from a subsequent illness. The very thought scared her to the core. "Oh, Charlie, I'm so sorry!" she told him. She saw that he was letting a tear flow.

"Thanks." Charlie accepted the belated condolences.

Violet paused for a moment to reflect on what she had just said. Violet Beauregarde, the queen of "I am most definitely not weak and will not stoop to that level", was sympathizing with a polar opposite? She didn't care in this instance. A family tragedy was a family tragedy.

"How about your grandparents? Or were they just not able to get jobs due to their ages?"

Charlie wiped away his lone tear. "They actually haven't been out of bed in twenty years."

"Really?"

Charlie nodded.

Violet couldn't think of anything to say about that, so she went off on a very slight tangent. "I'm actually minus a grandparent. My dad's mom."

"Oh, dear! So, you can empathize a bit about my dad?"

"Actually, no. I never knew her. My parents were still engaged. If I remember correctly from what my parents told me, she and Grandpa were having lunch in their house when she suddenly started having trouble breathing. Grandpa called for emergency services, and they brought her by ambulance to a hospital, where my parents and one of my dad's siblings met them after also being told the news. It turned out that Grandma had an undetected pulmonary embolism, and while the doctors tried to treat it promptly, she was gone within five hours. I still have my other three grandparents, though."

Now it was Charlie's turn to imagine the tables being turned. He pictured a similar thing happening to either Grandma Josephine or Grandma Georgina, which freaked him out just the same. It didn't help that prolonged bed rest was a risk factor for blood clots.

"As I said, though, I wasn't born yet. My parents weren't even married at the time. I suppose had that not been the case, I would have felt just as impacted as you did with your dad."

"I'm still really sorry. I can imagine the pain that that must have caused everybody else."

"When I came along, my parents decided to name my middle name, Jessica, after her," Violet continued. "It was supposed to be my first name originally, with 'Violet' being my middle, but they decided that the reverse sounded better. I wish they hadn't. In hindsight, 'Violet' is about the worst first name that I personally could have." Violet slouched, a deep frown imprinted on her face.

"Why? It sounds beautiful to me. It's the name of a soft flower, right?"

"Yeah, but I have personal reservations." Violet hesitated to break the reason. Then again, Charlie was very kind and understanding, so maybe he would get it?

She decided to give it a try. She swallowed nervously, being extra careful not to swallow her gum. "The thing is, at night, I turn into a…" She paused in hesitation. "Into a…"

No. She couldn't do it. "Not 'turn', sorry. I meant to say 'tune'. It happens. At night, I tune into a weather station for about half the year because I worry about things like fog causing accidents. A few people have taken to calling me 'violent Violet' over the morbid paranoia." Okay, so that on-the-spot lie was probably completely transparent, but it was the best fix she could think up. "At least no teasing word I can think of is similar to 'Jessica'."

Charlie wondered why Violet was worried about weather specific to this area when she had said that she was transferred in. Maybe she was from an area just a few cities down? He decided to assume so. After all, cities like Guildford and Harlow had similar weather.

Violet thought back to Charlie's comment about resisting the urge to yell at a possible supreme being over severely bad luck. She felt exactly the same way. While Charlie had been talking about his father's passing and not their economic situation specifically, just replace "we can't afford it" with "it happens at night", and there would be a full list of unavailable desires.

Speaking of night, it occurred to Violet that she must have spent a long time here. Just to be safe, she glanced at Charlie's alarm clock, which was sitting on the floor, directly by the mattress.

Holy cow! It was just past 4:30! As if stung by a hornet, Violet leapt up and darted out into the main room. "I'm sorry, but I have to go!" she told Charlie in a panic.

The grandparents couldn't see the sudden leap from the mattress, due to the door being ajar (and due to two of them facing the wrong way anyway), but they could see her sudden dash and outburst. They watched as she retrieved her winter clothes by the door and put them on as quickly as possible, her hands trembling in fright.

"Well, this is sounding all too familiar," observed Grandpa Joe.

"I mean it this time; I really DO have to go!" Violet snapped. "It's not what you think!"

Charlie had followed Violet out of his room. "Why, have I offended you somehow?" he asked, worried. This was almost mirroring her previous departure.

"No! No, it's just that…I have a strict curfew. It has to be met. You know, like being home in time for supper. That sort of thing."

The Buckets felt this to be making sense. Nobody wanted their children out for especially lengthy periods of time, especially not when it was about to get dark.

"Okay!" smiled Mrs. Bucket. "Thank you once again for the candy!"

"Goodbye!" Violet responded immediately. She opened the door of the cottage and rushed out as fast as she possibly could, letting the door slam on its own.

...

Violet ran as fast as she possibly could, faster than she had run for anything, to get back to Mr. Wonka's factory. The cold air was getting to her from this speed, but she coped by breathing into one hand. Fortunately, she knew the way from here.

Upon approaching the factory gates within fifteen minutes, she saw that the horizon was now glowing. Quickly, she fumbled around an outer trench coat pocket for the spare key to the gates. Thankfully, she found it in time. She unlocked the gates, with surprisingly steady hands despite the trembling, stepped in the courtyard, closed the gates and locked them again, and then dashed towards the front door. There was next to no time, so she didn't care if people saw her coming in or not.

In fact, that was exactly the case, as far as one person went. Unbeknownst to Violet, shortly after she left, Mrs. Bucket started to rinse some cabbage for supper and realized that they had a loaf of bread available for a side dish. She suggested that Charlie go out and buy a bit of margarine to go with it, so he was out and about in that same area, heading to a corner store. When passing Mr. Wonka's factory on the way, he noticed Violet locking the gates and dashing down the courtyard, and he stopped, awestruck, to look. He even rubbed his eyes to make absolutely sure that he actually was seeing this. After Violet disappeared through the front door a moment later, Charlie stopped watching and continued to head to his errand. She never saw him.

...

Once Violet was finally inside the foyer, she stood in front of the door to pant for a moment. Running through the cold air all of that time, taking only a few walking breaks, had exhausted her to the core. Still panting, she removed her outer vestments, put them on a hand-hook, and walked to the Wonkavator's main door for activation. At least she had some warm air, finally.

Her waiting for the Wonkavator was just in time, as she started to turn into a blueberry shortly afterwards. Thinking fast, she pulled out her gum and closed a fist over it. She would find someplace to flick the blob when she got back to the lodging. Hopefully, the gum wouldn't tumble onto her dress.

Violet's transformation was complete by the time Rungdin arrived in the device. She just barely managed to fit inside, and Rungdin had to climb on her to get positioned in the blueberry version of a piggyback ride, but everything got settled. Nothing more had to be done, aside from finding someplace to drop her gum, once the Wonkavator arrived at the lodging, so Violet just exited with some physical assistance, waddled into the living room, and awaited Mr. Wilkinson again.