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Unexpected Chapter 5

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Wearing a pink blouse with a red skirt, Maria sat at her desk outside Wonka's office, and looked at her nails.  She couldn't help but notice that there was a little bit of dead skin.  Maria got a pair of tiny scissors from her purse and was about to cut it off, when she heard a man clear his throat.  She turned around to see Wonka standing nearby, holding out his hand.

"Miss Gonzalez, what did I say when I hired you?" Wonka asked, looking at the scissors with disapproval.

"You said, 'dear lady, if I catch you filing your nails again, you will be filing them at your next job interview,'" Maria said, doing her best imitation of Wonka's speech and manner, then quickly returning to her own.  "But you didn't say anything about cutting off dead skin."

"I assumed your feeble mind would comprehend that I meant using all nail care products," Wonka said, with an arrogant smirk, as Maria handed him all of her nail care products.  "Thank you, Miss Gonzalez.  Now would you be so kind as to make me a cup of tea?"

"I would, but I'm so feeble-minded that I can't figure out how to work that thing with the thing you pour hot stuff out of," Maria said, sweetly, moving her arms around like a complete bimbo.

"I have faith that you can figure out this simple process," Wonka said, maintaining his arrogance.  "Like eschewing public nail care, it's a requirement of keeping your job."

"Let me put this another way," Maria said, returning to her tough voice.  "I don't do tea."

"I can't imagine how you plan to work here if you refuse to do the work associated with your position," Wonka said, slightly annoyed.

"You plan on firing me?" Maria asked innocently, as she examined her nails.  "I don't think Scarlett would like that."

"I'm sure she'll understand after I explain how you deliberately refuse to be productive," Wonka countered.  "Or perhaps, I'll just send Mr. Anderson to assist you, instead."

Maria turned to Wonka in alarm.  "You wouldn't."

"Would you like to find out?" Wonka said, pleased to have gotten the upper-hand.

"How do you take your tea?" Maria asked, shooting up from her seat.

"Earl Gray, very hot, no cream, no sugar.  I'm sweet enough as I am.  Be sure to use loose leaves instead, of bags."

* * *

Another day at work,and Scarlett, wearing a blue blouse with a green skirt, was back at the coffee machine.  If this was how her job would go, maybe Mr. Wonka should've just hired her as a secretary, instead of putting her through all this.  She quickly reminded herself that it was the men of the Art Department who didn't take her seriously, not Mr. Wonka.

Breaking into Scarlett's thoughts, Maria arrived, and began looking through the cupboards.

"What are you looking for?" Scarlett asked.

"A tea infuser, tea strainer, and Earl Gray leaves."

"That's disgusting!" Scarlett said, turning up her nose.  "Who would drink that?"

"Wonka," Maria said nonchalantly, as she pulled a tea infuser out of the cupboard.

"Oh," Scarlett said, blushing as she looked around to make sure Mr. Wonka wasn't nearby.

"So, why are you out here?" Maria asked, pulling tea leaves out of the cupboard and placing them next to the infuser.

"Well, I thought I'd make myself useful in my department," Scarlett said, continuing to watch the coffee steam.

"You mean, other than drawing and contributing your ideas?"

"They weren't interested in hearing what I had to say," Scarlett said, slightly bitter.

"Maybe you need to stand up for yourself," Maria suggested, putting water in the kettle.

"I've tried.  They just laugh in my face," Scarlett said, bitterly.  "Maybe my mom's right.  Women have no business getting involved in a man's world."

Maria put her hand on her hip.  "Your mom...  You mean the woman with the creepy smile who was never seen without a glass of wine in her hand?" she asked, sarcastically.

"It was grape juice," Scarlett said, defensively.

"Honey, I don't know if you're naive or in denial," Maria said, turning off the stove when she heard the kettle whistle.  "It was grape juice all right... fermented."

"Are you going somewhere with this?" Scarlett said, slightly angry.

"What I'm saying is that nothing will change if you don't stand up for—" Maria began, until she saw Martin come in.  "You didn't see me."  She ran straight for the storage closet and shut the door.

"Hi, Martin," Scarlett said, quietly.

"Hello, um," Martin said, getting a coffee cup and taking no further notice of her.

"Scarlett."

"Right, Maria's friend," Martin said, pouring coffee into his cup.

"Martin, don't—" Scarlett began.

"Don't what?" Martin asked, as he drank from his cup.

"Never mind."

Martin left without giving Scarlett a single look.

"You can come out now, Maria, he's gone," Scarlett told her.  "So, what was that you were saying about standing up for yourself."

"¿Qué dijo ella? Una mejor pregunta... ¿Qué digo? Haz lo que digo, no lo que hago." a suave voice said from the door.

Scarlett turned around.  The voice belonged to Mr. Wonka.

"M-Mr. Wonka," Scarlett said, feeling herself losing her balance.

"Miss Rivera," Mr. Wonka said, tipping his hat to her.

Scarlett put her hand on the counter, blushing like mad.

"I-I was just relaxing," Scarlett explained, feeling her heart pound.  "Not that I'm slacking off on the job.  I-I-I just find that I think better with coffee in my system.  Y-you—"

"Miss Rivera, there is no need to explain yourself to me," Mr. Wonka said, with a charming smile.  "Though I find it most curious that you're here instead of with the Art Department."

"W-well, I—" Scarlett began, and quickly changed the subject.  "What you said, earlier.  What did it mean?"

"It means 'do as I say, not as I do'," Maria said, putting the dried tea leaves in the cup.  "What I'm wondering, is why he made me get him tea when he was planning on coming here himself."

"I was simply on my way to test out a new invention," Mr. Wonka explained, ignoring Maria and focusing his attention on Scarlett.  "Perhaps, you'd like to come with me."

"M-me?" Scarlett said, her hand slipping.  "I-I mean, o-o-of course, p-provided that I'm not disturbing you."

Scarlett's hand brushed against a glass of water.  She heard a clank that made her turn around, and saw she had accidentally knocked it over.

"As soon as I clean up this mess," Scarlett said, blushing like mad.

"No, I'll handle it," Maria said, giving Scarlett a knowing smirk and then getting a rag.  "You two go have fun."

* * *

"The Observatory Room?" Scarlett said, reading the door.  "Quite a strange room for a chocolate factory."  Scarlett anxiously ran her fingers through her hair.  "Not that I'm judging or anything.  I mean, you do like to think outside the box.  I mean—"

"Dear lady, how do you plan on discovering what the room holds if you never enter it?" Mr. Wonka asked.

"Right, of course," Scarlett said, still hesitant to touch the door.

Mr. Wonka smiled at Scarlett and opened it for her, gesturing for Scarlett to enter.  When she saw the room, she couldn't believe her eyes.  All the room held was a balcony, surrounded by a metal railing, and a counter, with a bag of sand on it.  The surprising thing the room also contained, was the night sky.

"How's this possible?" Scarlett asked, in awe.  "It's still daylight outside."

"My dear, after seeing the Chocolate Room, are you questioning the reality in my Factory?" Mr. Wonka asked, slightly irritated, as he put his cane to the side.

"Right, of course," Scarlett said, laughing nervously as Mr. Wonka pulled a clump of sand out of the bag.

"Hold out your hands," Mr. Wonka ordered.

Scarlett obeyed, and watched Mr. Wonka pour some of the sand in her hands.

"I'm guessing this is some new type of candy," Scarlett said, nervously.  "Of course, you're the Candy Man."

"I prefer the term 'confectionist'," Mr. Wonka said, annoyed.

"Confectionist, right," Scarlett said, apologetically, as she gazed at the dust in her hand.  Why was nothing going right today?

"So, if you don't mind me asking, what is this?" Scarlett said.

"Why show you, when I can tell you?" Mr. Wonka said, mysteriously.  "No, strike that, reverse it."

Mr. Wonka lightly blew on the dust in the palm of his hand, leaving Scarlett to watch in amazement as it formed an ethereal trail of light.  When the trail reached the ceiling, it transformed into a constellation of stars.

"Your turn," Mr. Wonka told her.

Scarlett blew on the dust in her hand and watched it form into stars as it touched the ceiling.

"It's beautiful," Scarlett said, hypnotized by the mystique of the phenomena.

"I call them candy stars," Mr. Wonka explained.  "They're for children who wish to sleep under the stars, without leaving the safety and comfort of their own bedrooms."

Scarlett gazed up at the stars and took notice of something strange.  "Mr. Wonka?"

"Yes, Miss Rivera?" Mr. Wonka responded, turning his attention to her.

"This might sound strange, but I've noticed," Scarlett began, nervously putting her hands to the side.

"Noticed what?" Mr. Wonka asked, as he retrieved his cane.

"I noticed that the constellations the stars formed look remarkably similar to Van Gogh's painting, The Starry Night."

"Similarities like that have been known to occur," Mr. Wonka said thoughtfully.  "Were you, perhaps, thinking about that painting when you helped form the stars?"

"I was," Scarlett breathed, meeting Mr. Wonka's eyes.  "Can these candies read your mind?"

"Partially," Mr. Wonka explained.  "They can sense your emotions.  How are you feeling?"

Scarlett wanted to say fine, but that wasn't what came out of her mouth.

"Not well," Scarlett began, hesitantly.  "Mr. Wonka, I think you might have made a mistake."

"Mistake?  What mistake?" Mr. Wonka asked, as if the concept were foreign to him.

"By hiring me as an artist," Scarlett said, refusing to meet Mr. Wonka's eyes.

"A woman, with self-doubt, forms a similar star pattern drawn by a man who was unappreciated in his time," Mr. Wonka said, gazing at the stars.  "A man who said, if I'm not mistaken, 'If you hear a voice within you say "you cannot paint," then by all means paint, and that voice will be silenced.'"

Scarlett smiled at Mr. Wonka's words, but her smile instantly vanished.  "Mr. Wonka, Van Gogh's situation was a little different."

"Different?  In what way?" Mr. Wonka asked.

"Van Gogh's a man," Scarlett explained, looking at the stars.  "I'm a woman."

"Really?" Mr. Wonka said, sarcastically.  "Where were you hiding this important information?"

"My skirt and makeup didn't clue you in?" Scarlett said, with equal sarcasm before she could stop herself.  "I mean, a woman as no right interfering in a man's world."

"Nellie Bly would disagree with you," Mr. Wonka said, putting his hands behind his back and gazing at the stars.

"Who?"

"A woman who didn't allow society to get between her and what she wanted," Mr. Wonka explained.  "When a man wrote an article explaining why women couldn't be journalists, she wrote a fierce rebuttal explaining why that article was wrong."

Scarlett knew how this story would end.  Nellie Bly got to be a reporter and lived happily ever after.  Just like the women in the fairy tales her mother read her, except they got what they wanted by acting like proper women.

"How did it turn out?" Scarlett asked.

"The editor was so impressed, he offered her another opportunity to prove herself," Mr. Wonka explained.  "Then he hired her."

Scarlett looked at the stars in the sky.  "That's her.  That's not me."

"Why can't it be you?" Mr. Wonka asked, encouragingly.

"Because it ain't done," Scarlett said, matter-of-factly.

"You're fired," Mr. Wonka said in an angry tone.

"What?" Scarlett said, looking into Mr. Wonka's fury filled eyes with shock.

"If all you do is stand to the side and whimper like a coward, you have no business working in my factory!" Mr. Wonka told her, his anger becoming more evident.  "You have no talent as a secretary, and you certainly have no talent as an artist!"

"I'm not a coward," Scarlett muttered, in a quiet rage.

"Speak up!" Mr. Wonka demanded.

"I'm not a coward!" Scarlett said, clenching her fists in rage.  "And you hired me because you liked my artwork!"

Mr. Wonka laughed cruelly.  "Real art takes honesty and courage, qualities you will always lack!"

"That's rich!  Coming from a guy who doesn't speak his mind!" Scarlett found herself yelling.

"What?" Mr. Wonka asked, not sure he'd heard her right.

"You heard me!  You mumble like crazy!" Scarlett continued, feeling every bit of anger pour out of her.  "And while we're on the subject of honesty, how about you tell people when you have a problem with them, instead of putting on an act, while writing what you really feel on a piece of paper, and mumbling it loud enough for everyone to hear!"

"Listen, you—" Mr. Wonka began.

"No, you listen!" Scarlett interrupted, feeling like her body was possessed by an angry spirit.  "Ever since I came here, I've had to put up with a ton of bullshit about how I don't belong in the Art Department and I'm sick of it!"

Mr. Wonka eyed her coldly.

"And I'm telling you, dear lady, tell them, or leave, and if you leave, don't come back.  You're wasting my time, and your breath, saying what you're saying to me."

Scarlett felt her world fall away from her, the stars above her head making her dizzy.  But she took Mr. Wonka at his word.  She had no choice.  He'd already left, and his amazing factory was one place she dearly didn't want to leave.

* * *

"—And furthermore, Mr. Wonka hired me to work here because I'm talented and, if you people don't like it, that's tough!  If you want me to actually contribute to your work, then ask me for help, but find someone else to get your coffee and snacks!" Scarlett said and took a deep breath as she looked at the faces of the men staring at her.  She imagined it must have been quite comical to them for a petite woman, like herself, to be yelling so fiercely.

To her surprise, a man with groomed back, jet black hair, laughed.  "All right, let's see what you've got."

* * *

The rest of the day went much more smoothly, with Scarlett contributing ideas, and even laughing, nervously, at some of the things they said.  When Scarlett talked to Mr. Wonka about her outburst earlier, he acted as if it had never happened, only asking if he would see her tomorrow.

Now, back at home, Scarlett was sitting at the dining room table, going over the whole day in her head, while Maria heated up leftovers from Thanksgiving in the oven.

"After this, all we'll have is enough turkey to make a couple of sandwiches for lunch tomorrow," Maria said, pulling the food out of the oven, and separating it on plates.

"Sounds good," Scarlett said, absentmindedly.

"You're awfully quiet," Maria observed, putting the food down on the table.  "What's on your mind?"

"Do you think men have more freedom than women?" Scarlett asked.

"Honey, that's a stupid question," Maria said, taking a bite.  "Of course men have more freedom."

"It's just that, the things the men in my department were saying...  Women would never say such things," Scarlett said, picking up her fork.

"What were they saying," Maria asked, intrigued.

"Ya'll really don't want to hear it," Scarlett said, taking a bite of her turkey.

"Sweetie, I grew up in a working-class Costa Rican neighborhood," Maria reassured her.  "I think I can handle it."

"Well, they started...  One of them brought up..." Scarlett said, trying to think best about how to describe the vulgar conversation.  "They talked about all the secretaries they'd like to have affaires with.  Your name came up, a lot."

"Sounds more interesting than the conversations I was having.  The secretarial pool talked my ear off about cookie recipes, and which vacuum cleaner is best," Maria said nonchalantly, as she kept her eye on her food.  Then she turned her full attention to Scarlett.  "Wait a minute.  They talked about that in front of you?"

"Yeah.  why?  Does it matter?" Scarlett asked, keeping her attention on her food.

"Men never talk about stuff like that in front of women," Maria said, proudly.  "It means you're one of the guys."

Scarlett gazed in Maria's eyes, shocked.  "What?"

"It means that they feel comfortable enough around you that they're okay with talking vulgar when you're in the room," Maria explained.

"I know what it means," Scarlett said, still in shock.  "I just need time to comprehend it."

"What did you do to make them change their minds about you?" Maria asked.

"Well," Scarlett began, taking a bite of stuffing.  "Mr. Wonka showed me his candy star invention."

"Candy stars?" Maria asked, skeptically.

"It's dust that forms into stars," Scarlett explained.  "You'd have to see it to believe it."

"Right," Maria said, uncaring.  "So, what happened when he was showing you the star candy?"

"Well, when I blew on it, it turned into The Starry Night," Scarlett explained, recalling the scene in her head.

"What?" Maria asked, ignorantly.

"It's a painting by Vincent Van Gogh," Scarlett explained.

"Still don't know what you're talking about," Maria said, taking a bite of stuffing.

"Do you want to hear the story, or not?" Scarlett asked, impatiently.

"All right, sorry, I won't interrupt anymore," Maria said, exasperated.

"Well, he figured out that I wasn't in the best of moods, and I told him that he made a mistake hiring a woman for the Art Department," Scarlett said, taking a bite of the vegetables.  "Then, he talked about Nellie Bly."  Scarlett could tell by the look on Maria's face that she wanted to ask who that was, but Maria held her tongue.  "Then, he threatened to fire me and said I didn't have what it took to make it as an artist.  I got so mad, I started yelling my head off, and Mr. Wonka left, and then I went back to the Art Department, and finished my rant.  The next thing you know, they're listening to my ideas, and treating me like part of the team."

"And that's how you earned their respect," Maria said, beaming with pride.

"It's how I became one of the guys," Scarlett said, knowingly.

* * *

Later, Scarlett thought about her conversation with Maria during dinner.  "One of the guys."  No matter how many times she repeated the phrase in her head, she still couldn't believe it.  Mostly because her feelings were mixed.  Maria assured her being privy to vulgar conversations about members of her sex meant they respected her, but at the time, listening to them, it had felt more like dis-respect.  They were talking about women—and she was a woman—as if they were toys... or worse, meat.

Scarlett sighed, wondering.  Maybe those women they were talking about did it to themselves.  The men clearly didn't see them as marriage material.  Scarlett reminded herself that the men mentioned Maria quite a bit.  Was she just a harlot who deserved to be treated like an object?  Scarlett mentally slapped herself.  How could she think of her own best friend that way?  Then again, Maria didn't seem to mind.

Or maybe, like excluding her on her first day, or sending her to fetch their coffee, speaking vulgarly in front of her was another ploy by the men to make her feel worthless, and uncomfortable?  Maybe even make her leave?  Scarlett sighed, knowing one thing.  If this was a ploy, it wouldn't work.  And if she didn't know exactly how to feel about it, she did know one other thing.  Her mother wasn't going to like this. 

Scarlett finished brushing her teeth and spit into the sink.  Well, she just wouldn't tell her.  It wouldn't be the first time Scarlett kept secrets from her own mother.  After all, if you couldn't marry a man, become one.  Scarlett felt a pang of despair go through her heart.

Important: You know how I said that Scarlett graduated from Columbia University in the first chapter?  Well, I recently discovered that, at the time, Columbia didn't accept women.  So, I had to make a small change.  Feel free to check it out.

I commissioned :iconpinkprincesstaylor: from deviantart to do a portrait of Scarlett.  :iconAmelka-Wonka-Kitty: from deviantart also drew Scarlett with Willy, and created a photoshopped picture of the two of them together.  I don't agree with the actress she picked, but she couldn't find good pictures of the actress I imagine.  So, I give thank yous and shout outs to both.  I'd also like to thank my beta-reader.  The candy stars came from Sonata IX from fanfiction.net and her story, Chocolate Ladybugs.  Nellie Bly is a real reporter and I got that information from wikipedia.  I also have a video on youtube for Unexpected, showing the actors I have picked, so far, for my OCs.

Would you like to give your OC a cameo in my fanfic?  Just comment and I'll figure out how to make that possible!  Though, we might have to discuss the details through notes.

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