3: Changing the Rules

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The tour continued somehow, despite the loss of two contestants and her mother, and Violet realized with some alarm that she was beginning to hate Willy Wonka.

She wasn't used to that feeling. Strong emotions were not part of a successful game plan, save for the desire to win. But this man with his chalky complexion, a pageboy haircut (which looked great on her but awful on him) and endlessly inappropriate behavior—he was something else. He pushed the button on the machine and offered that gum to her, knowing exactly what would happen if she chewed it. There was no question about it: he tried to sabotage her, and that was wrong.

He was supposed to be the referee here, the fair and professional authority who watched out for the players and decided the winner on his or her merits. Instead he was playing favorites (she suspected Bucket) and rigging his own game. This whole tour was too weird, too calculated. As far as Violet was concerned, Mr. Wonka was cheating. And one thing she despised even more than a loser was a cheater.

She chewed on, staring burning holes in the back of that purple coat as she walked.

Wonka stopped at the end of the hall and pressed a button. "I don't know why I didn't think of this earlier. An elevator is by far the most efficient way to get around the factory."

Violet balked momentarily at what awaited them. It was an elevator all right—a glass one, where you could see where everything was, and how high you were going…

She gulped. Despite her three rock climbing trophies, she wasn't that fond of heights.

"Are you coming? Or are you quitting after all?" Wonka said pointedly.

She shot him a look that could curdle chocolate milk and jumped aboard.

"There can't be this many floors," Mike declared. All four walls and the ceiling were full of buttons.

Wonka explained that in fact this elevator could go any way you wanted it to, not just up or down. Violet's stomach felt even worse after that, but she steeled herself.

The ride was as bad as she feared. Worse. They sailed sideways, diagonal, up to places so huge they shouldn't even be able to fit inside the factory. She felt her palms sweating and her legs shaking as the elevator passed over Fudge Mountain—and no, thinking of candy did not help right now.

"It's all right," someone whispered next to her. It was Charlie. That softie. He even put his arm around her shoulders during the really rough parts. Violet shifted uncomfortably, feeling her face get hot.

No. A winner could not show weakness, with heights or anything else. At least it was distracting her from the ride. After a while she was comfortable enough to talk. "There's no way the building is this big."

"Why not? Your mouth is that big," their host chuckled awkwardly. He did everything awkwardly. "And with all that gum-chewing I'm not surprised, Little Miss…er…something or other."

Mike snickered, but one look from Violet shut him up. She turned back and smiled again. "It's Violet, Mr. Wonka. Violet Beauregarde. And you should get used to me and my gum, and remember my name. Because like I said, I'm the girl who's going to win the special prize at the end."

"Is that so, Violet Beauregarde? Well maybe I'll start practicing then. Everybody off!" They stopped. The guests all stepped out, but Wonka was blocking her way. "…Except for me and the girl, I have to show her the gum room. Amuse yourselves until then!"

WHOOSH. He hit a button and the elevator rocketed back to life. Violet gasped and braced herself against the wall. Chills went through her body, and she had a nasty feeling that all her suspicions about this man were right.

"I think you're lying," she challenged him, but her voice was trembling. "There's no gum room in this place. There's just that weird lab where you turned my mom into a...into a-"

"I didn't know you were afraid of elevators, Violet Beauregarde. But you don't need Charlie to help you get over that! In fact, I'd rather you stay away from him. Let me help you instead."

She stared at him. "Who said anything about—"

ZOOM. He'd pressed another button, sending them suddenly to the left. The jolt sent Violet on her knees. "Oops! This thing just has a mind of its own sometimes." That vacant leer never left his face. He was crazy. She knew he was crazy. "So tell me, Violet Beauregarde: why are you still in my factory?"

"Because I want to win!" she shouted.

Another button. They hurtled downwards. The factory went by so fast she couldn't tell where they were. Violet gagged and covered her mouth.

She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of being sick.

"I know you're only a kid, Violet Beauregarde, and kids are kind of stupid. But you should know by now you're not going to win the special prize. Is that all you can talk about? It's so boring. You, say something interesting so I don't push another button."

She tried to get up. "M-Mr. Wonka—"

"Sorry, I know my name. Not interesting."

The elevator lurched to the right, then up and diagonal, then down again. Wonka stood unaffected, unconcerned while Violet was rolled from side to side, bruising her hips and elbows on the walls. She'd never felt so sick or scared in her life. But he wouldn't break her.

"Would you like to throw up on my shoes now, Violet Beauregarde? That's enough revenge for your mother, don't you think? And I'll have an excuse to kick you off the tour! So much easier on both of us. The Oompa-Loompas are due to wash this elevator anyway."

Violet never gave up. Not ever.

Little Miss Stubborn award, first grade.

"I think you should go home now, Violet Beauregarde."

"NO!" she yelled at the top of her voice. It was loud enough that Oompa-Loompas in the administration office (where they were stopped) noticed and gave them funny looks.

The fury on Wonka's face was almost amusing. He looked like a five-year-old who'd been denied his favorite toy. He jammed a button near the ceiling that sent them roaring back to the new hallway, where a sign on the wall said "THIS WAY TO TV ROOM."

"Fine," the candy man said petulantly. "Well, I don't wanna play with you anymore."

He stomped out in a huff and disappeared around the corner.

Violet gasped for air and rose to her knees, trying to get her bearings. She tested her jaw and realized she was chewing on nothing.

Her gum was gone. That precious gum she'd been chewing on for three months. It wasn't on the floor; she must have swallowed it.

Violet's eyes welled up with tears. She was going to break her own world record with that. But it would be a small price to pay, if she could show up this psycho before the day was over. It was a strange discovery, a children's hero who hated children—why else would he do this to one of them? Maybe because he was still a child too, and hated himself.

At least now he had some company.

Back on your feet, Violet, her mother would have said. Eyes on the prize.

She crawled out of the elevator and stood.