It Must Be Believed To Be Seen

The Final Ticket

Em clicked off the radio dejectedly, her lunch break nearing its end.

It was all over the news, the last ticket had been found. She'd hoped Charlie wouldn't have to find out from anyone else, she wanted them to talk about it together, but he must have heard the announcement at school by now - there was no escaping it.

"Em, are you just about finished?" called the Candy Shop owner from the front of the store.

"Yeah, coming Bill," she called back, dusting off her apron and tightening her long brown ponytail.

"Bring a box of Scrumdidly's with you," he ordered, the sound of the shop bell ringing in the distance.

She grimaced and grabbed the old stepladder, searching for the correct box. She'd be happy if she never had to look at another Wonka product again, they'd brought too much disappointment with them lately.

The competition had been Charlie's chance; his one, miniscule chance to meet his hero, his idol: the elusive Mr. Wonka. Even Em had let herself be drawn into the excitement, imagining a handsome young man with a cane made of candy, a hat made of chocolate. She felt like a fool for being drawn into the illusion. A tiny part of her had thought that maybe, just maybe, they deserved a bit of luck for once. Foolish thoughts a twenty five year old should not be entertaining, she thought to herself, and a chocolate hat would be ridiculously impractical.

Her mind wandered even further, this time to her childhood. She and Charlie had played for hours when they were younger, always the same game; Charlie as the mysterious chocolatier, Em as his knowledgeable young apprentice (despite being fourteen years older than him). The age gap had never meant anything to them, they were the best of friends. To this day they told each other everything.

Em knew how much the competition had meant to Charlie – to the both of them – and now, thanks to Alberto what's-his-face the snotty, selfish millionaire, a little boy's dreams had been snatched away.

"Em?" Bill's voice cut through her thoughts like a fevered finger through a chocolate wrapper. She was holding the Wonka box in a vice-like grip, her knuckles bright white.

"Coming," she called, loosening her grip and stepping down carefully from the rickety ladder, making her way silently to the shop front.

"Hey, hey, hey take it easy." Bill was chastising a young customer as Em closed the door to the storage room. "You'll get a stomach ache if you swallow it like that."

Em placed the box down on the counter, shaking out the tension in her hands. She glanced over at the child and did a double take.

"Charlie?" She gawked as her brother shovelled down an unholy amount of chocolate.

"Oh, hey Em," he garbled, his teeth fusing together, "want some?"

"No thanks," she replied, crinkling her nose. "Bill's right, slow down or you'll be sick." She started unboxing the Wonka bars and began stacking them neatly on the empty shelf. "What are you doing out of school, anyway?" she asked over her shoulder.

"They let us go home early, because of the competition..." Charlie's voice trailed off and he glanced down at his chocolate bar, the sweet treat seemingly loosing its charm.

"Oh." Em stopped stacking and turned to her brother. "So you heard? Oh, Charlie I'm so sorry, don't let it get you down. There was no way –"

"Em, it's fine!" smiled Charlie, not really fooling either of them. "I'm fine, it was just a bit of fun. We were never actually going to find one, so it's no big deal."

"Mmhmm?" murmured Em, wishing she could share in her brother's carefree attitude, even if he was only faking. "We'll go watch at the factory, yeah? When the gates are opened and the winners go inside? We might catch a glimpse of old Wonka yet!"