STARSHINE

Author: cr8zee4rum
Rating: PG-13 (for now...)
Pairing: You/Willy Wonka
Categories: Romance, General

Disclaimer: I do not own Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.

Summary: “She told me that she doesn’t want to live in a chocolate factory with you because she’s in love with Derek.” Rumors, you hated them especially since they are what drove you and Willy apart. Now, a year after Charlie Bucket was announced as the heir of Willy Wonka, you have finally gathered up enough courage and decide to disprove those rumors. And this time Slugworth won’t get in the way… hopefully.

Author's Note: This is my first CatCF fanfic, so here’s to hoping! Also, it’s based off the Tim Burton movie!

* * * * *

Prologue – Exploding Taffies and Welcome Songs

“One day, I’m gonna be the most famous candy maker in the world!” A little boy with extravagant headgear exclaims.

The girl turns to face her friend and smiles…

“Mr. Wonka?” Charlie Bucket waves his hand in front of his mentor’s face. “Mr. Wonka, are you listening?” Still he receives no reply. “Willy!”

Willy blinks his royal-purple eyes, coming back into reality. “I’m sorry. I was having a flashback,” he slowly explains, his eyes still focused on a random point on the floor. “Now what were you saying, my b—erm, Charlie?”

“The exploding taffy! You weren’t watching! One of the Oompa-loompas tried it and well…” Charlie motions to said Oompa-loompa, who is currently sitting on the floor, steam coming out of his ears. Charlie glances back at his mentor and rolls his eyes; Willy Wonka is lost in his own world again. Sighing, Charlie helps the Oompa-loompa to his feet and dismisses him. There was no point to continue when Willy wasn’t in reality…er well in the factory anyway. Reality can’t be used to describe Wonka’s factory. Charlie smiles at the thought and leaves the candy-man to himself.

* * * *

The Buckets, accompanied by Willy Wonka, sit around the dining room table, waiting for Mrs. Bucket to serve dinner. “Tonight’s dinner is pasta, salad, garlic bread, and for dessert—Wonka’s never-melting ice cream!” Mrs. Bucket exclaims as she lays pots and trays onto the table.

“The nightingale sings a beautiful song!” Grandma Georgina says, giggling to herself. No one even attempts to decipher her outburst, though for once it wasn’t quite as random. Perhaps birds weren’t singing, but that didn’t mean that puppets weren’t…

Willy Wonka, Willy Wonka,
The amazing chocolatier
Willy Wonka, Willy Wonka,
Everybody give…

“D’ya hear that?” Charlie asks.

“That’s my welcome song! Someone’s come in!” Willy exclaims, jumping to his feet. He snatches his hat and cane from beside the door and rushes out of the house.

“Perhaps you should go with him, dear. After all this is your factory too, now,” Mrs. Bucket says to her son, who nods and follows Willy. Sprinting through the ‘Eatable Room’ helps him to catch up with Willy just before he opens the door that separates the factory from the real world.

A cloaked figure stands in the doorway; head down so that the hood shields her face. Upon hearing the door open, the figure raises her head, yet a shadow still falls over her features. A moment of dead silence…

The woman speaks in a soft, almost unsure tone, “Hello Earth, Starshine wishes you a happy half-birthday…”

* * * * *

CHAPTER 1 – Starshine’s Gift

“Hello Earth, Starshine wishes you a happy half-birthday.” The words are not spoken nearly as strong as you would have hoped, and for a moment you worry that he would not have heard you. But after seeing his surprised face, your worries are gone. His eyes have widened, and his mouth is agape. You smile to yourself, knowing that the hood of your cloak hides it.

Having shocked the candy-maker, you turn your attention to the little boy who is standing next to him. From your cloak you pull out a package; it’s a decent size, yet not overly large. After handing it to the boy, you whisper, “Don’t let Willy open it until eight o’clock, m’kay, kiddo?” You ruffle his hair, then say to Willy, “Enjoy your half birthday, Earth!”

You don’t give either a chance to reply (though you figure that Willy is probably incapable at the moment); instead, you pivot on your heel and dash to the gates, slipping between two bars. With one final glance at the famous candy-maker, you disappear into the nearest alleyway.

Charlie stands with the box in his arms, which is surprising heavy despite its size. On the top it reads, “Do not open until eight o’clock, sharp!” He looks at Willy, expectantly; however, Willy’s eyes are still focused on the gates, making him not notice his heir’s eyes on him. After a moment, Charlie nudges the candy-man with his foot and when he has Willy’s attention, jerks his head towards the factory. “Our dinner will be getting cold.” Willy nods and holds the door open for Charlie to precede him, carrying the package.

* * * *

“Who was it, Willy?” Mr. Bucket asks, as Willy and Charlie enter the house. Grandpa George is less interested in who was at the door; he wants to eat his meal. (Mrs. Bucket always insisted that it is rude to eat before everyone has been served.) “Sit down first,” he snaps, grumpily. Willy raises his eyebrows, yet complies with the order and sits next to Grandpa Joe.

Charlie places the box on the ground before taking his seat at the table across from Willy. Mrs. Bucket notices this and asks, “Charlie, dear, who is the package for?”

While serving himself some dinner, he replies, “For Willy since it’s his half birthday. A friend of his dropped it off.”

“That was who was at the door then?” Mr. Bucket asks.

“Yes,” Willy replies. “She said not to open it until eight o’clock…”

“Well that’s in fifteen minutes; you should eat quickly!” Charlie exclaims before eating a forkful of pasta. The weight of the box and the mysterious figure that delivered it have made him curious.

Willy’s face breaks into a silly grin. “Hey that’s a great idea!” His voice cracks, much the way a teenage boy’s would. He shovels a forkful into his mouth; eager to find out what ‘Starshine’, as she had called herself, had given him.

“Look, Willy,” The blonde girl from the earlier flashback points to the calendar. Both she and Willy are in their late teens. “This is your half-birthday because it’s six months before your real birthday. So I’ll have to get you a small gift on this date to celebrate!” She circles the date on the calendar in red pen and scribbles ‘Willy’s half birthday’ in their secret code.

“You’ll always be my Starshine, Kat.”

Willy shakes his head to clear his mind. Ever since he had opened his factory to the five lucky kids, he has been having flashbacks mostly of his childhood. He takes a bite from his garlic bread…

Ten minutes later…

Willy stares at the clock, impatiently tapping his finger lightly on the tabletop. The box sitting in front of him is exceedingly tempting. “Can’t I open it now?”

Charlie shakes his head. “Only five more minutes, Willy, you can wait five more minutes.” Mrs. Bucket, who is standing by the sink washing the dinner dishes, nods her approval of her son’s words.

Sighing, Willy changes the beat of his tapping, making it a little slower. A minute passes. “Now?” Mrs. Bucket only smiles and shakes her head; Willy could be such a little kid sometimes. Another minute…

“All right, Willy, I think you can open it a few minutes early,” Mrs. Bucket says. Willy’s eyes light up and although he can’t wait to open the gift, he does it delicately so as not to break any of its contents.

Within the box was a sculpture of a dragon made of chocolate. On top of a chocolate mountain, the dragon stands with its chest puffed out and its wings spread. Its mouth is open, revealing fangs made of white chocolate and a forked tongue made of licorice. Two red sprinkles are used as eyes. Under the dragon’s front paws is a white piece of paper that’s folded in half. Willy slides the paper out of the dragon’s grasp, carefully so as not to chip any of the white chocolate claws of the paws. Glancing at the outer side of the paper, he can see that something encoded is scribbled on it.

“22 8 13 8—11 21—10 25—8 10 15 10 1 4 8—17 13 10 23 9 25—5 9 13—10 25—8 10 15 10 1 4 8—13 9 9 19!”

Willy stares at the code for a moment, trying to decipher the meaning and failing miserably. Charlie looks at the dragon, eyes wide. “Did she make that?”

“What… oh, yes, she’s an artist. Here try to read this,” Willy replies, handing the card over to Charlie, who after glancing at it only shrugs and then hands it back to his mentor. Willy unfolds the paper and frowns; the inside was also encoded. For all the chocolate in his factory he couldn’t remember the code. “16 10 25—11—21 15 11 4 4—1 8—20 9 24 13—21 15 10 13 21 22 11 25 8?”

“Gosh darnit!” he exclaims. “I can’t read what she wrote!” Although the meaning is unclear, Willy is now positive of who sent the gift. No one else would use the code; he was sure of that much. He glances at the dragon. She was always good at that sort of thing…

* * * * *

Author’s Note: I’ll give you cyber cookies if you can decode the messages! ^.~* Thanks for reading!

* * * * *

CHAPTER 2 – Like A Drummer

You open the door to your apartment, which isn’t too far from the factory. The complex is a little above mediocre, but you don’t mind since it cost less than some of the apartments around the area. (The last apartment that you had lived in was far too expensive, which is why you moved to this one.) Your current apartment has four rooms, counting the bathroom. As you first walk in, there is a small hallway that opens up into the parlor. Within the parlor are a couch, table, and a few chairs. The bathroom is the first door on your left as soon as you walk into the apartment. There is no actual door between the parlor and the kitchen, although there is one that separates your room from the parlor. After draping your cloak over one of the chairs, you walk into the kitchen to fix yourself some coffee.

I definitely could use something to warm me up. It was a lot colder outside than I thought it would be.

You put the coffee pot on and then walked out of the kitchen into your room. It’s quite a small room, and the bed makes it look even smaller. Next to the bed is a small table with a desk lamp. You don’t have room for a bureau; instead, all your clothes are in the closet. Some are hung up, while others are placed in the shelves. And unlike the stereotypical woman’s closet being full of shoes, you only own three pairs—flip-flops, dress shoes, and the pair of sneakers that you are currently wearing.

On the bedside table are several papers, all with sketches on them. The very top one is of the chocolate dragon statue you had just given to Willy for his half-birthday. Around the drawing is writing that explained what materials you wanted to make each part out of. I hope he liked it especially since it took me forever to get the wings right. Sighing, you pick the paper up and walk over to the opposite wall, pinning the drawing onto the bulletin board. At the moment the dragon drawing and several receipts from a candy store are the only things on the board.

You sit down on the bed, pulling your sketchpad and pen out from under it. Your former art teachers always chastised you for doodling all over your homework in pen no less. Once you have found a blank sheet of paper, you begin to doodle.

Frustrated at the way it was turning out, you scribble out the drawing and begin another next to it. This time the sketch looks more like the way you remember the boy. He had an uncanny likeness of the famous candy-maker, although you know that he is not Willy’s true son, only the winner of the golden ticket contest of last year.

To make yourself more comfortable, you bring your legs up onto the bed to sit cross-legged, placing the pad in your lap. Once comfortable, you put the finishing touches on his face, quickly shade a few areas, and label the picture, ‘The heir of the Wonka Factory’. True, drawing so quickly makes the picture not as well done, as it would have been if you would have taken the time to put an effort into it, but it was only a doodle.

A doodle in a sketchbook that no one ever sees… not anymore…

You close the book and replace it under the bed along with the pen. After doing so, you quickly change into pajamas and stroll back to the kitchen to get your coffee. Originally you were going to drink it in your room, yet now that it is actually finished, you decide to drink it in the parlor on the couch.

“I wonder if Willy remembers our code,” you ponder aloud, between sips of your coffee. In truth, you are a little rusty on it yourself, so you hope that you didn’t make too many mistakes in the card.

Although secret handshakes and codes are very childish for two adults, it is an almost foolproof way to ensure that no one could read it aloud, if it happened to fall into the wrong hands, which it did a few times back when you and he were in high school, where the code originated.

At first writing in the code was tricky, but after a few notes neither you nor Willy needed the key anymore. To top it all off, the code isn’t as simple as it looks at first glance; it most likely would take an outsider a good while to figure it out.

For the longest time you and Willy had been best friends, and the code was just another way to strengthen your friendship, in your mind anyway. What Willy thought of the code, you may never know because the things that go through Mr. Willy Wonka’s head generally only make sense to him. The man was a genius, no two ways about it. He is the genius candy maker and you are the artist. That’s just the way it is.

During high school, many of your friends would often tease you about Willy, always asking “How’s the boyfriend thing going, Kat?” And always you would smile and shake your head, yet sometimes in the back of your mind you had wished that you and Willy could make it something more. But you never asked him about it since being best friends… it’d be too weird. Your friendship with Willy was never made ‘something more’ until after you and he graduated.

A small blush creeps up your face when the memory resurfaces. Oh, man, that was embarrassing. While continuing to sip your coffee, you reach for a piece of scrap paper that’s on the coffee table, but stop with your hand just above it.

“You’re like a drummer, Kat, ‘cause drummers always need to keep a beat, and you always need to have paper just in case you have the urge to doodle.” [a/n]

Oh, you hated Slugworth for pointing that out. The fact that his statement is true doesn’t bother you as much as the fact that it was Slugworth that said it. He had ruined everything…

“I don’t even know ‘Derek’, you ass,” you mumble indignantly. “What did you ever see in him, Willy?” you wonder aloud.

Ironically, Slugworth and Willy had been very close friends in high school, not nearly as close as you and Willy, but close nonetheless. It is mostly Slugworth’s fault that the ‘something more’ didn’t last. It would have if Slugworth hadn’t stuck his nose where it didn’t belong. ‘She loves Derek not you’, yeah right.

You finish off your coffee; place the mug on the table, with plans to clean it in the morning, and head off to bed. I’ll give him something before work tomorrow.

* * * *

“Mum?” Charlie Bucket calls as he enters the house. “Have you seen Willy today? I can’t find him.”

Mrs. Bucket thinks about it for a moment then shakes her head. “He’s not in the Inventing Room, Charlie?”

“No, he was supposed to meet me there after lunch but he’s not there. I’ve been waiting for a while too,” Charlie explains, a little annoyed at the candy-maker. Lately, Willy’s flashbacks have been occurring more and more often, which has been becoming quite an annoyance when one is trying to learn how to run a chocolate factory.

“Perhaps he overslept,” Mrs. Bucket suggests. “Why don’t you take the glass elevator to his room?”

“I didn’t think of that! Thanks Mum!” With that said, Charlie rushes out of the lopsided house to the glass elevator. Once inside, he glances around trying to locate the button to take him to his destination. Finally finding it, he presses it and braces himself for the jolt. After almost a year in the factory, Charlie has gotten ‘glass-elevator legs’, as Willy calls it, so that he doesn’t slam against the doors every time he pushes a button.

In less than a minute the elevator stops in front of Willy Wonka’s room. Charlie steps out of the elevator and raps his knuckles on the purple door. He hears a muffled, “Come,” from within, so he turns the doorknob, which is in the middle of the door.

Willy is hunched over his desk with his back facing the door. On the corner of the desk is the chocolate dragon, and in the center of the desk is a candy cane light. When Charlie is close enough, he can see that the card ‘Starshine’ had sent last night is on the desk along with numerous papers, some that are crumbled and some that have heavy scribble-marks on them.

“I thought we were going to work more on the Exploding Taffy, Willy. The formula’s not quite right yet, you know,” Charlie says quietly.

Willy pauses in his attempts to decode the message to look at his heir. “What…oh, yes,” he focuses back on his desk. “Later, Charlie, go play or something. Just don’t put your hands in my chocolate river.”

Charlie’s jaw practically drops at his mentor’s words. Willy Wonka putting something before his beloved candy? Unheard of! It just didn’t make sense. So many questions are running through his head, but instead of asking any of them, he says, “Maybe I can help.”

Again Willy takes his gaze off of the papers for a moment. His face breaks out into a huge grin and he exclaims, “Hey! That’s a great idea, Charlie!”

* * * *

A soft knock sounds on the door of Willy Wonka’s room. “Come in!” Willy’s overly happy voice hides his frustration of the message. He and Charlie have yet to figure much out. Although they have deduced that the code is not simply ‘One stands for A and two stands for B’.

An Oompa-Loompa enters with the mail. He hands it to Willy then crosses his arms over his chest and bows. Willy returns the action before shuffling through the envelopes. He stops at one letter that isn’t in an envelope; instead, the lined paper has been folded into a square. After placing the rest of the mail on the desk, Willy slides his finger under one of the four triangles that form the square and unfolds the note just as he remembers you doing many-a-time before. He rolls his eyes. “Why can’t she just write in English? That’s almost as bad as mumblers.”

After glancing at the note, Charlie inquires, “Why does she keep writing to you anyway, Willy?”

Shrugging, Willy replies, “I dunno.” I thought she hated me… “Hey!” he says suddenly. “Let’s work on that Exploding Taffy, ‘kay?” He tosses the note on the desk and quickly strides out of the door. Charlie takes one last look at the note before following. 26 22 9—1 8 15 13 10 20 8 17—26 22 9?

* * * * *

[a/n]: That generalization is based off of my drummer friends, and they always are keeping a beat. Jiffy has told me many times, “It’s a drummer thing. We have to keep a beat. We just do.”

* * * * *

CHAPTER 3 – A Lesson In Latin

“…The word plagiarism comes from the Latin plagium, meaning ‘kidnapping’. Plagiarism is defined as the ‘act of taking someone’s words or ideas as if they were your own’. Despite the fact that both Slugworth Candies and Willy Wonka Chocolates are competitors, the law protects people who create ideas and punishes those who steal them. The evidence has been presented to you, the members of this jury, and the proof that Mr. Frederick Slugworth is guilty of stealing my client’s ideas and formulas for various candies is right before your eyes. I ask you, the members of the jury, to find the defendant liable for these charges.” Mr. Prescott, Willy Wonka’s attorney, steps away from the jury box and sits back down next to his client.

“…until the time you have reached a verdict…” The judge drones on, yet Willy isn’t listening. He has no interest in the court business; he only wants his candy to remain just that. His candy. Of course, they must be enjoyed, but stolen? Poppycock! He wouldn’t allow Slugworth to get away with it.

“Friend of Willy’s.” Slugworth replies, his dislike for you evident in his tone.

* * * *

That day had been a slow one, that’s for sure. Yet now, as you think about it, having it long wasn’t all that bad. You and Willy patiently waited in a coffee shop near the courthouse. Luckily at three o’clock the jury had come to a verdict, so the court did not have to recess again. “We find Mr. Frederick Slugworth liable for the charges pressed against him by Mr. Willy Wonka.”

“And after that, it all went downhill for me…” you think aloud to yourself as you walk towards your apartments. Today wasn’t very interesting… too many people called in sick… you think, unlocking the door to your apartment.

You work part time for a children’s magazine as one of the cover designers as well as one of the regular artists, yet you still prefer your freelance art to this job. Freelancing allows you much more freedoms than drawing for a children’s magazine, even though the other employees there are very friendly, not to mention comical.

Now normally, you wouldn’t walk to work in the middle of January when the temperatures are usually below freezing, but unfortunately, your car broke down last week leaving you with the ‘ankle-express’, as Willy used to call it, as your only mode of transportation. Sure, you could ask someone to drive you to work, but that seems like such a hassle. Besides the exercise is good for your health, right?

Pulling off your gloves and your coat, you drape both articles of clothing over a chair and head into the kitchen for a cold drink. You open the refrigerator. Hmm, water, water, or water! What a decision! You think sarcastically, pulling a bottle from the fridge.

The thought of writing Willy another note had crossed you mind earlier, yet now it doesn’t seem like such a good idea. If he doesn’t remember the code, then your letters would just cause frustration to the candy-man, which will not help you in the least. Instead, you settle for more doodles, mostly of faeries or other mythological creatures. (Heck, that is the theme for this month’s issue, so now it is stuck in your head as well as on your pen.)

You stomach grumbles loudly. “All right, dinner it is.”

* * * * *

CHAPTER 4 – So Much Time, So Little to Do

Mini disclaimer: I don’t own Edgar Allen Poe’s “The Gold Bug” or its affiliates.

“Hey, Willy,” Charlie says to get the candy-man’s attention. Willy Wonka glances from the beakers. “About that code…are you supposed to know what it says ‘cause why would she be…”

“This formula’s not quite right yet, Charlie,” Willy deliberately dodges the question. He knows that he should remember their code, but as often as he had used it during school, now he just can’t think of it.

Not satisfied with the answer, Charlie persists. “Why does she show up now, Willy, when you don’t even know why she’s writing to you? Do you really know her? And why doesn’t she write in English? What doesn’t she want us to see?” he fires questions at his mentor, his curiosity growing with each one that he asks.

Willy stares at his heir for a moment before answering, “Riddle me that…” and then putting a few drops of the silver liquid into the beaker. After placing the eyedropper on the table, he picks up a tiny metal stirrer to mix a formula. “Hand me those shoes over there, Charlie,” he gestures off in a vague direction behind him. Being used to odd requests from Willy, Charlie complies without any hesitation.

As he hands the shoes that are tied together by the shoelaces, Charlie inquires, “Needs more kick, Willy?”

Even behind the protective sunglasses—compliments of the ‘TV Room’—Charlie can see Willy’s eyes light up. “Wow! How did you know?” he giggles, childishly. “You’re going to be the best chocolatier there is, well except me of course!”

“Of course!” Charlie agrees, watching as Willy Wonka places the shoelaces into the beaker and stirs the formula once again. Charlie opens his mouth to say something else, but a tug on his pant leg draws his attention to the Oompa-loompa standing beside him. The Oompa-loompa signs something to Charlie, mindful to keep it slower, knowing that the heir to the factory is not as fluent in the Oompa-loompa language as Willy Wonka. After deciphering what the worker had said, Charlie says to Willy, “Mum has dinner ready. We have to let the formula sit for a while anyway, so why don’t we go down to eat?”

Willy Wonka stirs it one more time and then replies, “’Kay let’s boogie!”

* * * *

Slugworth watches as you slip another note into the mailbox outside the gates of Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory. So that lil’ knave was telling the truth. He thinks, pulling at his chin, schemes rushing through his mind. Ready for a history lesson to go with that Latin one that I had to take, Kat?

It wasn’t just the court case that fueled his hatred for both you and Wonka; no, several incidents from school also added to the flame. He is not one to be second-bested, and he would (and has) taken any means necessary to be at the top, even if he were only at the top for a little while. One thing that doesn’t help in the least is that Slugworth is the type to hold grudges until he feels satisfied that he has outdone the wrongdoer.

To say that Slugworth had his sources spread like butter all over town wouldn’t be too far from the truth. Competing with Wonka Chocolates is a business in itself, so when Aaron, one of his employees, informed him of a woman visiting the Wonka factory, Slugworth couldn’t help but satisfy his curiosity. Finding out that the woman is you only makes the twisted wheels of his mind turn faster.

As you hurry away from the factory, the thought of following you and asking, to spite you, “How’s living at the factory going, Kat?” crosses his mind, just before a better idea takes hold…

“I think a Grimm’s Faerie Tale is in order.”

* * * *

Two hours later, Charlie walks back into the ‘Inventing Room’, carrying the short story “The Gold Bug” by Edgar Allen Poe. Sticking out of the top of the book is an index card to mark Charlie’s place. “Willy?” he asks, approaching the candy-man, who is muttering formula ingredients under his breath.

“One moment, Charlie,” Willy hands the taffy that he was working on to the nearest Oompa-loompa. “Watch,” he instructs, as the Oompa-loompa pops the taffy into his mouth. After a few seconds, a loud bang echoes through the room, catching the attention of several other workers, who after a quick glance return to their jobs. The Oompa-loompa smiles and gives the chocolatier two thumbs up, showing that he wasn’t hurt as he had been the last time the new taffy was tested. Willy claps, delighted at the result. “Wonderful! Did’ja see that? We’ve got a new candy on our hands, Charlie!”

Remembering why he is here, Charlie opens up the book in his hands to show Mr. Wonka. “In English class we’re reading Edgar Allen Poe’s short stories, and I found something that might help us with crack that coded message that your ‘Starshine’ sent you.” Charlie could tell by Willy’s far off look that his words had either fallen on deaf ears or struck another memory.

“My Starshine? Kat?” Wonka mutters, yet the second that the words leave his lips, he snaps out of his reverie and laughs nervously. “’Kay, now what were you saying, my dear boy?”

Charlie points to the page in the book. “In this story there’s also a number code. I thought that maybe you and ‘Starshine’ read in during school and used that code. It uses the frequency of letters, so that the letter e is one…”

Willy Wonka interrupts him. “E isn’t one. One is B.”

Charlie’s eyes widen in excitement. “D’ya remember any other letters?”

“I remember writing the alphabet twice and then under the second one putting numbers in,” Willy replies.

“So you just put numbers in randomly?” The disappointment is layered in Charlie’s voice.

“No, absolutely not!” Willy practically shouts, surprising Charlie. “There was a method to the madness, my dear boy. What method? I don’t know. He’s on third by the way.”

“If you say so, Willy…”

“I noticed that I did say so, Charlie,” Wonka points out. “C’mon I think you’re onto something!” He pivots on his heel and walks towards the glass elevator, still looking back at Charlie. “We’ll get this co…whoa!” Luckily, Willy Wonka is able to catch his balance, so that he doesn’t fall on top of the worker in front of him. While signing his apology to said worker, he says to Charlie. “We’ve so much time and so little to do!”

Knowing what Willy had actually meant, Charlie follows on his mentor’s heels, listening as the candy man jabbers on randomly. Doris, the secretary Oompa-loompa, hurries to catch the pair; she hands another note to Charlie, who rolls his eyes at the thought of having to decipher another one of your letters.

When they enter Willy’s room, Charlie hands Mr. Wonka the note. “Another one?” This note is not folded fancy like that last one; it is only folded in quarters. Written on one of the corners is “26 11 4 4 20”. Willy wrinkles his nose at the code but after unfolding the note, he exclaims happily, “It’s in English! I can read it!”

“Hey Earth, Starshine’s light is still shining—are you looking? Do you remember that day in the tree? The day that you first called me “Starshine”? That day after your father found the candy? The day that we created the code? The day of our graduation? That day in the courtroom? Do you remember? I do. Who betrayed who?”

“Guess that’s why it’s in English, too long to transpose it into that code, huh?” Charlie says.

“What…oh, poppycock! We wrote longer notes back in school!” he giggles. “There was this one note…” he trails off, “That I’d rather not talk about.”

* * * * *

Three chapters…go me (see this is the good thing that comes from procrastinating the writing of my essays…) Anywho, thanks for reading!

* * * * *

CHAPTER 5 – Ticket

“Ah!” Willy Wonka exclaims in aggravation, which catches the attention of several of the Oompa-loompas as well as Charlie’s. “This is more frustrating than a deaf-mute playing Bingo, getting Bingo, and then trying to shout, ‘Bingo’!” Crumpling up the piece of paper that he was still trying to decode the messages on, he tosses it behind his back, missing the trashcan by only an inch or two.

“Why would a deaf and mute person be playing “Bingo” anyway?” Charlie inquires, leaving his homework briefly.

“I don’t know,” Willy replies. After a moment, he whispers, “He’s on third.”

Confused, Charlie asks, “What’s on third?”

“What’s on second.”

“Huh?”

“Precisely!” he grins goofily at Charlie, yet in a split second his grin turns more mischievous. “I’ve got an idea!” he declares, turning back around to scribble it down so that he doesn’t forget said idea. He then turns to the nearest Oompa-loompa and signs something quickly. The worker smiles and scurries off. “Right, now…” he whirls around at the tug on his pants. “That was fast. Thank you,” he smiles, taking the golden metallic ‘paper’ from the worker’s hands.

“Mr. Wonka?” Charlie says, suspiciously.

“My half birthday just passed, and we just finished the Exploding Taffy! We need to celebrate!” Willy explains rather quickly.

After placing the golden metallic ‘paper’ on the table, he scribbles exactly what he wants to go on the final copy, and then hands the scratch paper and the golden ‘paper’ back to the Oompa-loompa. He signs something to the Oompa-loompa, pausing several times to point to the golden ‘paper’. Charlie manages to catch a few words: ‘chocolate’, ‘here’, ‘back’, ‘goes there’, ‘cat’, and several others, but still cannot make out exactly what Mr. Wonka is planning, though he has a pretty good idea.

* * * *

“Hey, Kat,” Natalie, the chief editor, calls, coming up to your desk with the company’s mail in her hands.

You pause your work for a moment to look up at her. “What can I do for you?”

She flips her curly, red hair back before saying, “This,” she hands you a small, flat package that is wrapped in brown paper with your name written on it in an elegant script, “Arrived for you with the mail. Got a secret admirer, hmm?”

“Oh, please,” you roll your eyes. Carefully you tear apart the brown wrapping to find a Wonka Bar. With a curious eyebrow raised, you glance back at the brown paper. The script looks familiar but… Why would he send me a candy bar?

“Well, aren’t you gonna open it? I’d like a piece,” she hints.

“Of course you would,” you tease, turning over the bar. Slowly you pull off the paper cover, and even slower you begin to peel off the foil, just for fun. (Heck, she’s done it to you a few times with other things, so why not give her a taste of her own medicine?)

“What?” The Golden Ticket Contest ended ages ago. Charlie Bucket won. You think confusedly, slowly sliding the ticket out of the wrapper and placing the half wrapped candy bar on the table on top of your papers.

In black lettering, it reads: “I, Willy Wonka, cordially invite you, to join me for a half birthday celebration at the factory. Come to the front gates tonight at 6 o’clock sharp with this invitation in hand and one of my workers shall let you in. Enjoy the chocolate. Until then, Willy Wonka”.

“Willy Wonka? The Willy Wonka? He’s your secret admirer?” Natalie exclaims in disbelief. “Jesus, Kat, you lucky girl!”

“We went to school together,” you say as though it is the most normal thing in the world. “But something happened, and we sorta lost touch.”

“Phsst,” Natalie waves her hand dismissively, the other on her hip. Mocking you, she says, “We only went to school together. And even though he’s sending me secret love letters in his world famous candy bars, we’ve lost touch,” The last two words she uses her index and middle finger to make finger quotes. “And let me guess; he’s the one that you’ve been writing those notes with the numbers to.”

Smiling shyly, you reply, “Yeah, that was the code we used in school so the teachers couldn’t read ‘em.”

“But you lost touch?” Natalie exclaims incredulously.

“Natalie! My god! This is the first time he actually wrote back to me. Besides I only started to send him those notes a few days ago, starting on his half birthday,” you explain.

“But this is Willy Wonka,” she protests. “You personally know the Willy Wonka, Kat; hell you know him well enough that he invites you to his birthday party!”

“Half-birthday,” you correct, breaking the candy bar in two and handing her one of the pieces. After taking a bite, Natalie asks, “So what are you going to wear?”

You roll your eyes. Sometimes Natalie could be a real pain, especially when she hit one of her nosy moods. “I’ll find something after work.”

* * * *

“And where are we going to hold this party, Willy?” Mrs. Bucket inquires after having read the invitation.

“In the factory, of course, silly!”

“Surly not in my house though. All your workers won’t fit, you know,” she points out. Willy mutters an ‘I know’. “Then where?”

“That’s a surprise,” the chocolatier giggles, and then continues. “You don’t need to cook anything ‘cause I’ve got it all taken care of, ‘kay? Just be ready at 6:30 sharp!”

“But…”

Willy grasps her shoulders and assures, “It’s okay—I used to climb trees!” he tips his hat, picks up his cane and practically skips out of the lopsided house, leaving a confused Mrs. Bucket behind.

“I used to climb trees?” she repeats, wondering how that was supposed to be reassuring.

CHAPTERS 6-10

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