4: Homestretch
Ω
Violet felt little for Mike Teavee when he lost his temper and railed against Wonka's idiocy, for inventing some of the world's finest technology only to make candy with. Maybe he was right, and hacking into Wonka's manufacturing system to ensure he would find a Golden Ticket was very impressive. But he'd never treated her with the same ironic kindness as Veruca, who at least had the wisdom to keep her enemies closer.
Bye bye Mike, she thought with a twinge of sympathy as he was teleported into Wonka's TV screen. Of course Wonka made no effort to help him or shut down the machines. Instead he chose to make silly remarks and halfheartedly grope toward a solution with a frightened Mr. Teavee. It was clear he was enjoying every minute of this.
Her heartbeat quickened as she realized only herself and Charlie were left. Just one more step away from winning.
"Well, I suppose it's just the two of us now," Charlie said sadly.
"Not for long." she replied, staring him down.
She could be nicer to him, but Charlie was weak, and Violet was uncomfortable with weak people. Whiners, losers, babies, people unfit to compete—she didn't understand them. She was caught between a desire to protect them and pump them up with workouts and pep talks, and the more primal urge to knock them off the ladder so she could climb a few more rungs for herself. There was no way the Bucket kid knew about that side of Wonka she saw in the glass elevator, and it was best if he never did. But she was furious that the same reasons Charlie was losing the game of life made him the clear favorite to inherit Wonka's fortune.
Yes, she had heard the rumors from Veruca—that Wonka's real intention was to select an heir. And obviously he didn't want a strong winner. He wanted a patsy, someone he could mold. She, Veruca, and Mike could not be molded. And Augustus was simply a decoy. No, Wonka would do everything he could to make Charlie the last kid standing.
She reflected on his gesture of comfort a little while ago. Protect him or run him over, Violet wondered.
Maybe she would end up doing both.
"There's still so much left to see," said Mr. Wonka as they left the TV Room. "So, how many children are left?"
"Mr. Wonka, Charlie and Miss Beauregarde are the only ones," Grandpa Joe pointed out.
"Right you are, sir. Quite unexpected. But as long as I have guests, why, they must be entertained. Back into the elevator!" He smiled directly at her.
Violet froze. She could not get back in there with him. But what choice did she have?
There were shuffling footsteps in another hall nearby. The party turned to see several Oompa-Loompas and Mr. Teavee on the way to the taffy puller with his now very little boy. Violet looked sidelong at Wonka, and the amused triumph on his face was chilling. Mike was the third kid who got hurt on his watch. She would have been another, if Mom hadn't swiped that gum.
If she won, she could stop him. Maybe. That was just another reason to finish this.
Humming pleasantly, Wonka turned around and stepped up to the elevator. Violet saw Charlie and his grandfather still watching the odd procession, and made her move. As Wonka shifted his weight, she stuck out her leg and tripped him. She watched with delight while he smacked face-first into the glass door and crumpled to the carpet. Somehow, his top hat stayed on.
"Gee, Mr. Wonka!" she said innocently. "You still seem a little shaken up from earlier. Maybe we should walk to the next room instead?"
Grandpa Joe leaned over the man—as well as he could, that is. "My word. Are you all right, sir?"
"Violet is right. You really shouldn't strain yourself," Charlie said in his usual melancholy whisper.
"On the contrary young man, I am very much restraining myself." Wonka shot a cold look at Violet as he rose unsteadily. It was his first expression throughout the tour that reached his eyes.
She met it without flinching.
Ω
"And this is the gingerbread village!" the candy man said, gesturing grandly and breathlessly before them.
Charlie frowned in confusion. "Mr. Wonka, I think that's a fuse box."
Wonka opened his eyes. "Oh. Er, right you are. This is the gingerbread village." He turned to the adjacent wall and opened a large brown door.
It had been a long walk from the TV Room, but nobody was complaining now. This room was an extraordinary sight of fresh gingerbread houses, decorated with too many other treats to list. The smell of fresh gingerbread was everywhere.
"I told the Oompa-Loompas Christmas was just a month ago, but they insisted," Wonka explained. "Go on, explore! And do try to keep out of trouble."
Violet caught the glint in his eye as he turned her way. He was plotting something.
She gave him a hard look and stepped cautiously onto the graham cracker streets. There was only one way to keep safe on this tour: stick close to Charlie and don't touch anything.
She followed after Charlie and Grandpa Joe as they explored the different houses. There was one with a rock candy fireplace, one with gumdrop shingles, one with chocolate floors and so on. It was great, and Oompa-Loompas were everywhere keeping the place up. There was even a crew of them building the newest house, carrying steaming slabs of warm gingerbread and setting them up on the candy grass.
It was hard not to notice, after a while, how the Oompa-Loompas seemed to do all of the work while Wonka just kind of stood around and watched. Violet tried, but she just couldn't connect him to this factory in her mind. She couldn't imagine him actually working and concocting new formulas. He seemed to have little interest or passion for these things he supposedly made.
Was something really your creation if all you had was the idea? Like that gum that tasted like real food. Violet had imagined such a thing, but if she didn't make it with her own hands, who cared? Never mind what that gum made of her mother…
"Oooooo, this house is getting something new!" Wonka was calling them over to the next street.
She followed them to the largest house, which had a brand new Olympic-sized swimming pool in the backyard, already filled.
"Is that…" Charlie leaned closer.
"Hot frosting!" Wonka exclaimed. "It's the best thing for a gingerbread house. Can you imagine Mr. and Mrs. Gingerbread coming home from work to relax in this? Why, it must feel simply delicious. Don't anybody get too close to it now. You wouldn't want to fall in and drown. That would get the frosting dirty. Say, what's that?"
Wonka pointed at something (nothing) overhead. Charlie and Grandpa Joe looked up. Reflexively, so did Violet. Suddenly she felt something long and pointy jabbing her in the back.
She screamed, lost her balance, and fell into the pool.
"Oh no. Oh my. I did tell you to stay out of there, Violet," he sighed when they turned back. "You naughty, naughty child."
"You pushed me!" she tried to yell at him, but she couldn't breathe. The frosting was enveloping her, like quicksand, sucking her down to the bottom.
"My my, what a shame indeed. Drain the pool!" Wonka called to one of the workers. Suddenly the frosting became a whirlpool, taking the feisty gum-chewer right down the drain. Wonka flashed a triumphant smile at his other astonished guests. "She certainly was confident. But she was just in over her head. Er, Oompa-Loompas? You may sing her goodbye now!"
But the pint-sized workers just stood around, glancing uneasily at each other. They had seen what Charlie and his grandfather did not.
Wonka had pushed her in.