"Haley, I made it! I'm Charlie!" Mac came running in the kitchen where I was helping myself to the Hanson fridge. Mac and I had developed a special bond over Willy Wonka and The Chocolate Factory for about a week. Wonka happens to be one of my favorite movies, and Mac was trying out for the part at Tulsa Community Theater. We worked on his audition piece together. To me, Mac just seemed like the perfect Charlie. I could imagine him in a harness, flying across the stage, drinking "fizzy lifting drinks." Zoë was trying out, too. She wanted to be just like her big brother. All child actors under six were Oompa Loompas. All of them made it. I suppose Zoë didn't realize this, and no one was about to tell her. It meant too much. Mac's speech about his audition was cut short when Zoë entered the room.

"I'm an OOMPA LOOMPA!" She yelled at the top of her lungs. I could imagine her as an Oompa Loompa, like Mac as Charlie, as well. She definitely had the height thing going for her. We all walked into the living room, and I settled down with my glass of milk.

"So tell me, guys." My voice turned strangely maternal. "How did your auditions go?" I sipped the glass, and Tay joined me in the room. He scooped Zoë up, and I saw Mac's eyes turn slightly downward. "Mac, come here," I told him. Hopefully, I was helping, as I patted the cushion beside me, for him to sit down. Sibling jealousy. I was the baby in my family, and my sisters often got jealous of the attention my parents gave me. I guess they didn't know that I was jealous of them, too. He smiled a bit, and hopped onto the couch. For an eight-year-old boy, Mac was pretty tough. He caused me to bounce pretty high on the sofa.

"Well," Mac began, "I talked to this old lady about why I wanted to be Charlie. I pulled the whole cute boy act, just like you told me, Haley." I smiled. I knew if Mac stuck with me, his part was in the bag. "I told her that I wanted to be Charlie all because of the chocolate." Tay squirmed in his seat.

"That's so stupid, Mac. You're too old for that," Tay complained.

"It got him the part, didn't it?" I defended. "Mac's the smart one in the family. I know." I turned to Mac. "Too bad Tay didn't get any of your brains," I whispered just loud enough for Taylor to hear.

My aim was to include Mackenzie. Taylor had just made me angry. He completely ignored Mac when walking into the room, and gave all his attention to Zoë. Of course, Zoë needed attention, but Taylor was too blind to see that it was hurting Mac.

Mac smiled at me, and draped his arm around my shoulders. I raised my eyebrows for a moment, but then thought nothing of it. Tay, however, considered it a different sort of action. He looked at me. It was like all of those secret looks that Walker and Diana share across the table at dinner. I knew what he was thinking . . . telepathy. I sent him a message back with my eyes, and hoped Tay could read it. "It doesn't mean a thing. Mac's only eight; he still thinks girls have cooties."

The older I become, the more I forget what I knew when I was younger. I completely dismiss the fact that I knew about boys when I was Mac's age. I did, though, and he does too. He knows about girls, I mean. When I look back, I don't really believe that I had boyfriends in the sixth grade. Now, I see sixth graders, and think, "They're naive. They don't know about . . . things." They do, though. And perhaps I'm the naive one, for not allowing myself to realize that.

Mac continued his story. "The lady gushed about what I said. The other Charlie's . . . they were nothing compared to me." He bragged. "One even threw up, because he was so nervous." I cringed. Yes, Mackenzie was very much so, age eight.

"Really?" I crinkled my nose, but his eyes twinkled.

"Yep! All over the girl who got to be Veruca Salt!" He smiled brightly at his recollections. Why don't they ever put things like that in books like, The Rules, and all of those other How to Catch a Man books? Boys love vomit. It's true. If a girl could just work the subject into a conversation with her date, as soon as possible, he'd marry her in a second.

"Cool! In her hair?" The next voice came from Taylor. How gross.

"Taylor, that's so immature." I had to notify him of his latest screw-up. "I can't believe you think vomit is cool." Mac's eyes got big, and then squinched up.

"You don't?" He was stunned.

"Gross, of course not," I answered truthfully. Mackie looked at me, and thought for a second. Then, he stiffened up, and withdrew his arm from my shoulder.

I sent another instant message to Taylor. He gave a knowing smile, and shook his head. However much he had, Mac had lost all romantic interest in me whatsoever. I bet that's how older guys size you up.

"Well, do you like dogs?" I looked back at Mac. He was giving me a second chance.

"Sure, I love dogs. They're the best!" He gave me a look of respect, and returned his arm to my shoulder. I thought at that moment, I'd start laughing. Taylor shared my expression.

"You've got a fan," Tay mouthed to me, when Mac wasn't looking.

"No, I've got two."

"Who else?" He squinched his brows.

"You know who else."

Mike called me at the Hanson's around eight with news from Chapel Hill.

"Buddy Burger just isn't the same without you, Haley."

"I'm sure no one even remembers me, Mike."

"I miss you too, Mike. Are you still nabbing all the free food?"

"Definitely. I've got a box of chicken nuggets waiting here, with your name on 'em." He made me smile.

"You can save them, Mike. I've found myself a family that cooks. Imagine, Mike. Real food . . . the stuff isn't coated with thick layers of grease, and preserved under heat lamps."

"No grease layers? I don't think my stomach could digest real food. I consider myself better off, anyway."

"Why is that?"

"Does Mrs. Hanson supply free toys with her meals?"

"Nope. You've got me there."

"I applied for a job at the news." Mike's tone turned more serious as he changed the subject.

"Really, Mike? That's wonderful!"

"Guess my burger days are over. They accepted me on as a staff writer."

"Congratulations! The Chapel Hill Gazette will be much better off with you there."

"It's not The Chapel Hill Gazette, Haley."

"Oh, what is it?" I seemed a bit worried to find out what he'd say. The way he'd said his last sentence . . . well, I just didn't know what to think.

"Asheville Citizen Times."

"Asheville? What? I don't understand." Asheville is a city near my hometown. It's fifteen miles away from Black Mountain, and the majority of my childhood was spent in Asheville Mall.

"Remember how I rode with you back home when your mother died?" I nodded even though he couldn't tell it from over the phone. Mike stayed with me when I drove back to Black Mountain, as well as the week I stayed at home. I suppose that's what built the bond between us much stronger. He was there when I needed him most. I remember asking Mike, because Taylor and I had just experienced our first really big argument. Strange, but I've never really had a fight with Mike.

"Well, Haley. I really liked it there. Despite all the sadness and the whole situation we were in, I actually thought Black Mountain was a great place." He said 'we' as if my mama was his, too.

"So just because you think it's a great place, you want to live there? God Mike, I think New York City is a great place, but I'm sure as hell not gonna' move there! Don't you think that's a bit of a premature decision?" I shouldn't have said it, but the thought of Mike not being there when I got back to Chapel Hill, really hurt. I suppose that's hypocritical, judging as I left him for Tulsa, but that's a completely different situation. He actually wanted to move to a place that I could never go back to, unless the pain went away. The pain wasn't going away anytime soon.

"I've been thinking about this forever, Haley. These past two weeks that we've been apart, I've been really remembering what Black Mountain was like. And I don't want to flip burgers for the rest of my life. Haley, you may be one of my best friends, but don't you think wanting me to say is a bit selfish? The decision isn't premature; I've got an apartment ready to move into. I've got a job there. This is what I want. And Haley, I'd really like you to come visit me, once I move in."

"I don't know what to say, Mike." I felt tears fiercely trying to work their way out of my eyes.

"Say you'll come. I'll be out there next Friday . . . exactly one week away."

"Mike, I can't." There wasn't a way I could go back to Black Mountain, now. I gave up, and let the tears flow out. Sometimes, I thought I'd never let myself go back to Black Mountain. There were too many memories. My entire life, up to a semester ago, was there. Mama. I wasn't emotionally prepared to go back to where I came from.

"Haley, stop acting this way. Why won't you come?"

"Mike, I can't go back there. Please don't make me." A silent pause interrupted the line, as I let another tear fall off my cheek.

"Then, please. Just write down the new number. Do you hear me, Haley?"

"Yeah." I wiped my eyes, and grabbed a pen. Picking the pad up from the coffee table, I wondered why I was hurting so much.

"All right. It's 669-2075." I scribbled down the numbers, and creased fold lines on the paper.

"Mike, I'm sorry. I'm just not ready." His voice softened.

"I didn't mean to hurt you, Haley. It's just that sometimes, I wish you'd be a little braver. Just because your mom died, doesn't mean you should let the things that mean the most to you, die too." Mike usually knows exactly what I'm thinking. He did this time too, but he was only halfway right.

"It's okay, Mike. I'm happy for you; I really am. I have to go, though. And I know I'm running your long distance charges up, from here to Kingdom Come.

"Bye, Haley. You know I love you."

"I love you, too. Bye." I hung up first. I always did. Hanging up first was probably the one fragment of control, I had left. So I used it.

Mike was only halfway right. My Mama lived in Black Mountain all her life. She could've left, but she didn't. She fell into the swing of things, and found a man she loved. That was Daddy. Instead of pursuing a career, she just took a job as a secretary. She had four babies, and one of them was me. I often wondered if Mama regretted settling down so early . . . before she had a chance to really live. She always told me that she was living. The thing she'd regret was not having her four girls and wonderful husband, had she tried to go off into the world.

I'm a lot like Mama. But in that way, I'm not. I know I'd regret it if I went ahead and settled down. Black Mountain is my home. I guess the real reason I'm afraid to go back, is not because I wouldn't like it there. It's because I would like it there. I'd like it so much; I'd never want to move away. I'd find a husband, have children, and never change. Haley Morgan is not a person who welcomes change. If I went back, I wouldn't be able to pick up and leave again.

I want to be a teacher. I want to touch lives, like I've been touched. I want to inspire kids and go places. Travel. And I want to be a mother, also. A wife, a mother, a teacher. I just can't go back until I'm strong enough to resist settling down and never leaving home. When that is, I have no idea.

"Haley, do you think you could help Mommy with my costume?" Zoë hadn't stopped talking about Willy Wonka since earlier that day when she returned from auditions. I walked into the family room to find her and Mac enthralled in the movie they'd soon be performing.

"Sure, Zoë. I think I could handle that. As long as your mom takes the biggest part of the sewing." I found a spot on the sofa to watch, too.

"Shh. Zoë, this is my favorite part!" Mac said from his place on the floor. Willy Wonka had just let his guests into the first candy room. Mac laughed as he took a bite of his candy tulip. Augustus Glumph began to greedily gulp the chocolate river, only to fall in. I smiled thinking of the many times I'd seen the movie. I knew the songs very well.

Taylor and Zac walked in the room. Tay took the seat beside me, with Zac on the recliner.

"Watching Wonkavision, eh?" Tay whispered in my ear.

"It's a good movie," I giggled too loud for Zoë's liking.

"Shh! Here come the Oompa Loompas!" She said excitedly.

"We're gonna' have to get out of here, in order to talk." Tay whispered back.

"Who says I wanna' talk?"

"Come on, Haley." He stood up, and held out his hand.

"Let's go outside," I decided. "The stars are out." I've always loved stargazing. I'm not truly an expert at it, but I just think they're beautiful.

Outside, Taylor laid down, supported by his shoulders, on the hill. I took the hint, and laid down with him.

"Oh look! There's a shooting star. Wish on it!" Tay said once we were comfortable. I spotted the one Taylor was talking about.

"There is no such thing as a shooting star," I corrected. "Only comets."

"Halley's Comet?" Tay smiled at me.

"You know, Tay. That was really lame. In fact, that was so lame, it was cheesy."

"Cheesy? I'm offended." He teased.

"You should be. I hate people who do that."

"Do what?"

"Make stupid comments about Halley's Comet when they hear my name."

"Do you hate me?" Tay sighed.

"Yes." I surprised him. He glanced at me, taken aback.

"Ah, but it's the love kind of hate, right?"

"Yeah, Tay. Love hate. Isn't that some kind of oxymoron?"

"Don't pull big words on me, Haley. I can't process things like oxymorons." I smiled and closed my eyes. I laid completely back, with my hands under my head. Tay did the same. "Haley, what would you do if I kissed you, right now?"

"I'd probably hit you, Tay." He sighed again. "But there's a fifty/fifty chance I wouldn't." He leaned up, and placed his lips over mine. They didn't move, only stayed locked into my lips. Lingering there for a few seconds, Tay ran his fingers, softly, through my hair. He laid back on the ground with a grin. I smacked him quickly, across his cheek.

"Hey. I thought you weren't going to smack me."

"I said there was a fifty/fifty chance. Guess chance just landed on the wrong fifty." I smiled, and closed my eyes once again. Tay rubbed his sore cheek. "Ever think you won't smack me when I kiss you, Haley?"

"I don't know, Tay. Make a wish on that comet for me to stop smacking. Then, who knows? Chance may start to lean in your direction.