Page 18 - My FlipBook

Sarah Sues Santa – P.J. Leonard

Chapter Eight: Clothes Line

The party went on into the late night. Sarah yawned. She'd lined up her new soft toys on the bed, so
she had someone to talk to.
"I can't stay here," she said to the big teddy bear, "This isn't home."
She looked at the toy bunny rabbit. "What did you say? Yes, I know they're my parents, but...they're
kind of not, do you know what I mean?"
The teddy and the bunny said nothing. She slumped back on the bed. She had to get out of here. But
how? How could she get back to her real Mum and Dad? She couldn't send a letter or an email to
Santa for help. Maybe I’ll have to stay here forever...
Sarah shivered, and put her hands in her pockets. She felt some pieces of paper in her hands, and
pulled them out. It was the golden tickets. Of course! She completely forgot! She remembered what
Santa’s letter had said: these will get you to where you need to go.
Sarah sat bolt upright, clutching the three tickets in her hands. This was it. This would be how she
escaped. She jumped up to look out of the window, and peered out into the dark night.
The snow had stopped, and the light from the house’s windows stretched over the field like
torchlight on a white blanket. And sure enough, even though the street was gone, the same postbox
stood in the same place. A bright yellow light glowed in the letter slot.
Sarah bolted for her closet and began pulling all of the clothes from their hangers. She'd need as
many as she could get: it was a long way down. Tying the legs and sleeves of her clothes together in
the tightest knots she could think of, she made a long rope out her clothes and carried the pile to
window ledge. She grabbed one end, tied it to one of the legs of the bed, and then threw open the
window as wide as she could.
Sarah gasped as the freezing night air hit her. Rushing back to her closet and throwing on the
warmest clothes she could find that she hadn't used for the rope, she returned to the window. She
looked down: her bedroom window was right above one of the windows below. She'd be spotted
easily. She took a deep breath. I'll have to be very quick then.
She picked up the pile of clothes and threw them out of the window. It rolled out into a long rope,
the last few sweaters hitting the snow below with a soft flump.
Sarah climbed up and sat on the edge of the window, her boots dangling into thin air. Her heart
drummed in her chest as she wrapped her hands around the rope. She gave it a tug. The knots held,
and the big heavy bed didn't budge.
"Here we go," she muttered to herself, "I'm going to climb down now. In three two -"
A knock at the door.
"Sarah?" Dad called, "Are you ready to talk now?"
Sarah swung herself out of the window just as she heard the key turning in the lock. She scrambled
down as fast as she could, heart pounding as she heard a yell from her room. A shadow fell over
her, and she looked up. Dad's silhouette looked down at her.
"What are you doing!" He roared, “Get back here!"
He grabbed the rope and pulled. Sarah started rising back up towards the bedroom. Cold sweat
dripped down Sarah's spine as she climbed faster and faster down the rope, but Dad pulled quicker
too. Then she came to the end of the rope.
"Gotcha!" said Dad, "Just you wait until I get my hands on you!"
Sarah closed her eyes and let go. Dad screamed as Sarah fell through the air. Wind whirled around
her for what felt like a whole minute, then – flump – cold, soft snow surrounded her. Kicking her
feet out, she stood up and brushed herself off. Had she broken anything? She moved her arms and
legs and climbed to her feet. No. Everything’s still working.

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