In a fit of temper, Veruca threw her hairbrush at the mirror. It broke with a very satisfying CRACK. The hotel staff would be angry with her for breaking the furniture, but she didn't care at all.
Today had been the worst day of her life. She had gone to Wonka's chocolate factory expecting victory, a prize of some kind. Instead, she had been attacked by crazy squirrels, and thrown into a rubbish dump! When she had finally been let out, furious and covered in garbage, she had been informed that that stupid boy Charlie Bucket had won the prize, and she had to go home.
Her body hurt. It was covered in scratches from the stupid, beastly little squirrels, and bruises from the garbage chute. Still, at least she wasn't ridiculously tall, like Mike Teavee, or blue,like Violet Bearegarde. Veruca frowned, remembering Violet's last words to her.
"Hey," Violet had said, in between doing back flips. "Listen, we got off an a bad foot. Let's start over."
Veruca had stuck her nose in the air and marched onwards, with as much dignity as it is possible to have when one is covered in rotten garbage. She had marched out with her father, tall and proud the whole way. However, when something weird had flown overhead, she could not help but allow a smile of delight to cross her face.
"Daddy," she said, turning to her father with a bright smile, "I want a flying glass elevator."
Everything would turn back around now, and she would be Daddy's little princess Veruca.
"Veruca," said her father, in a tone which surprised Veruca, "the only thing you are getting today is a bath, and that's final."
Veruca was shocked, but recovered in seconds. "But I want it!" she said. This never failed. Her father would give in now.
But instead, he glared at her, as angry as he had ever been. Veruca scowled and turned her head away. On the inside, she was churning. How dare her father refuse anything she wanted? And she was shocked; he had never refused her anything before. And, very deep down, she was sad. This was the end of an era – she could feel it.
As soon as they were out of the factory gates, they had pushed through the assembled crowd and caught a cab to the hotel they stayed at. It was the smartest hotel in town, which was really not saying very much. Veruca had had to throw her clothes away – they were quite spoiled. She had tried screaming and shouting at her father, but he remained firm.
"From now on," he said, "you are not getting what you want, when you want. It's time you and I learned a lesson."
Veruca had had a bath, and washed her hair. She had soaked for at least two hours, and –ugh – she still could smell garbage. She glanced at the clock – it was half past ten. Their flight home to England was at seven tomorrow. She'd better get some sleep.
With a weary sigh, Veruca snapped the light off and climbed into bed. Nobody understands me, she thought moodily as she drifted into sleep.