Rising Dawn (Willy Wonka X OC)

A Nonchalant Miracle

I'm walking in the frosty night air with my inadequate jacket, mulling over the days events. I hadn't told my family, but Mr. Goldsmith offered me a full time job at the candy shop. He said I was so good at selling candy, he wants me to work everyday. Sundays included, and I know I talked to Mum about starting to work Sundays anyway, but I like the free days with my family. It's not great pay either, but it is steady and guaranteed as long as I show up. There's always been an uncomfortable instability doing what I am now.

I'm not sure which is bigger news, the third Golden Ticket being found or Mum not paying the water bill. I guess she just wasn't able to pay it and there's nothing we could have done to change that, but she could have told me so I could make arrangements. The third Golden Ticket ticket being found is good and bad news. The survivalist in me that doesn't like change and thinks of it as one step closer to back to normal. The big sister in me thinks of it as something taken away from my little brother. This Wonka competition has got me more excited than I'm willing to admit though. There's just something about the wonderment of Mr. Wonka and the mystery shrouding his factory that has me wanting to bounce up and down like a child. I think, based on no evidence whatsoever, that Mr. Wonka would be an easy person to get along with. I hide my true opinions most of the time because I believe it's a weakness to let others know how you feel. So I may come off as suspiscious and indifferent to everything Wonka, but I marvel each and every time some new candy finds it's way to the shelves. I often find myself wondering what he's like and what his story is. When it comes to Willy Wonka, I think most people don't wander farther than the whats, but I'd like to know the whys and hows.

I turn a corner and am stopped in my tracks when I hear a department store window TV playing the news. "The fourth." My eyes fly open. "Golden." My arms fall to my sides. "Ticket." I turn around. "Has been." My breathing hitches. "Found." I take off at a sprint, barreling down the near empty sidewalk. I have to get home, I have to see him.

I'm breathing rapidly and erratically as I finally hop our ineffectual fence and swiftly open the door. I force my body to change gears and slow down while I calmly pace to the blank television and turn it on. Luckily Charlie isn't in bed yet and everyone is still sitting around.

"Dawn? What's the meaning of this?" Grandpa Joe asks, a little irritated with my bitter exit and hasty reentry. I don't respond, only hit the top of the outdated TV to make the static go away.

"Young lady, your grandfather just asked you a question," Mum says in a warning tone. I hardly spare her a glance while I silently point to the TV. Thankfully, she obeys and looks along with everyone else at the ghastly little boy on the screen.

"In the end, I only had to buy one candy bar," he was saying. He continues smashing buttons and there's a faint grunt and scream off camera. What kind of a game?

"And how did the chocolate of the fourth Golden Ticket taste, Mike?" There's a sharp intake of breath from Charlie and astounded looks all around.

"I dunno, I hate chocolate," he says, stringing his words together. That boy really should speak more clearly. I can hardly understand him. There are more words exchanged but I can tell no one is listening.

"Don't like chocolate? Well, it's a good thing you're going to a chocolate factory, you ungrateful little bast-" I leap up to cover Charlie's ears, and after a second, he covers mine as well. So we sit facing each other, hands over each others ears. Charlie's hazel eyes shining with an innocent, absentminded smile, my misty green eyes casting uncertain gazes all around.

In the silence, I get lost in my own head, not even thinking substantial thoughts, just fragments and feelings whirling around, catching me up in a tirade of nonsense that won't let me go.

A small, warm hands slips into mine and I open my eyes, I don't even remember closing them. Charlie gives me an understanding smile and in it, I see hundreds of things. Gratitude, patience, caring, and...knowing. Knowing of the slim chance he will find the last ticket. Knowing that he will end up like me. Knowing the cycle of poverty will continue. And accepting it.

Thank you so much for reading!
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xoxo, Tilly