Author's Notes: This character isn't exactly OC, but kind of. Matilda was my character when I was in Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory at my high school about 2 years ago. She's one of the candy kids and gets a solo, as well as a few lines. Well, I don't know exactly how this manifested in my mind, but it did and I'm pretty darn proud of what I have so far. I hope you enjoy.

(Matilda's POV):

"Katherine Albright?" Mr. Turkentine calls.

"Here, Mr. Turkentine," squeaks a girl two rows behind me.

"Sophie Ballard?"

"Here, Mr. Turkentine," a girl the next desk over says.

"Charlie Bucket?"

"Here, Mr. Turkentine," the boy sitting next to me barely pipes up.

"Charlie Bucket?"

The whole class expects this. A few snicker as Charlie tries to hide.

"He's here, Mr. Turkentine," I say firmly, glaring at the rest of the lot.

That shut those snickerers right up.

"Let him speak for himself then."

And that shut me right up.

Morning attendance. I keep telling Charlie that he needs to speak up. He's just too quiet sometimes and he doesn't get noticed too much because of it. I say too much because sometimes he's hard to miss. Among the rest of us, he's a bit of a scruffy thing. His family's not too well off. I once saw him wear the same shirt for a week because his others were either too small or too worn down.

My name's not for a while, so I pull out my notebook of ideas. I flip open to a specially-marked page full of ideas; candy ideas. I've scribbled down quite a few since school began last week; candy floss for reluctant flossers. Chocolate-coated, pretzel glasses frames with clear, crystal sugar lenses. Numb gum for cavatiers who hate needles. All of whom have been inspired by the confectionary genius himself; Willy Wonka.

"Matilda Prescott?" I barely hear Mr. Turkentine call.

"Huh?" I groan.

Most of the class snickers.

"Oh. Here, Mr. Turkentine," I say quickly.

He walks over to my desk, looming over me like a shadow.

"Despite the fact that you're not called for a while during attendance, it would do you good to pay attention instead of focusing on-whatever it is you're doing."

I nod sheepishly as he walks back to the board.

The rest of the time before the end of the day, I try to keep my mind off of my notebook of ideas. Unfortunately, when you have to write word problems for arithmetic, that's difficult to do. I'm a bit reluctant to hand the sheet in to Mr. Turkentine.

"All right. Class dismissed. Have a great weekend."

What a relief! I grab my things and try to sneak out of the classroom.

"Not so fast, Miss Prescott," Mr. Turkentine says.

I freeze in place.

"I'd like to see you for a moment."

Charlie and James have turned back and are waiting for me.

"You guys go on ahead. I'll catch up," I tell them.

With a sigh, I walk over to Mr. Turkentine. He seems to notice my nerves.

"You're not in trouble. I just wanted to speak with you."

"About what, sir?"

"You seem to have developed a keen interest in the chemistry of confectionary creation, is that correct?"

I look at him in confusion.

"The science of candy making," he says.

Oh. That makes sense.

"What made you come to that conclusion, sir?"

He pulls a sheet of paper from atop the stack.

"Your arithmetic problems have all consisted of confectionary creation. For instance, Mr. Wonka needs to create a dozen Gummy Grapplers for a group of Mt. Everest climbers with a sweet tooth. Suppose the recipe for four Gummy Grapplers requires a total of 1/3 cup of hardened gelatin, 3/4 cup of crystal sugar, 2 and 1/2 liters of sticky solution, and 7 cups of food coloring. By how much will Mr. Wonka have to increase each ingredient to cater to the entire group? How much of each ingredient is needed for a dozen Gummy Grapplers? How much of each ingredient is needed for one Gummy Grappler?"

I look down at the floor.

"Just what is a Gummy Grappler, Miss Prescott?"

"Well, sir," I say hesitantly looking back up.
"It acts like a grappling hook, but it looks like one of those stretchy, sticky hands you can win at carnivals and it's made of a flavorful, gummy consistency."

"I see. Is anyone in your family a chemist?"

"No, sir. Not as far as I know. I come from a family of mostly mathematicians or homemakers."

"Then where on earth did you get such an idea?"

I look back down at the floor.

"You're not in trouble for this. I just want to know where you got the idea."

"It just came to me, I guess, sir."

"Well, it's quite alright to have a passion for something, especially in your case. Not many of the girls in my class or in the school are interested in any sort of science. However you shouldn't let it take over your life. You're only ten. You don't need to be thinking about a career quite yet. Now run along. I'm sure your friends are waiting."

"Thank you, sir," I say politely as I walk out of the door and head for the schoolyard.