Page 30 - My FlipBook

Sarah Sues Santa – P.J. Leonard

of was marked 'Girl's Room.' She also passed what looked like a meeting room and a small
interview room with a single desk and three chairs: two big, one small.
Aside from the snow outside, nothing in this place gave a clue that it was Christmas: no
decorations, no smell of food, not even a calendar. Is it really Christmas? Nobody is awake and
excited. It's not that early, is it?
She came to a crossroads of corridors. At one far end, she spotted what looked like the main
entrance: two big, heavy-looking doors that had a giant lock bolting them shut. This place...it was a
lot like a school, only even less happy. Slowly, it was dawning on her just what this place was, like
a something creeping up her spine. It couldn't be...there was no way...
She came to what looked like a playroom, though Sarah struggled to call it that. Broken toys and
ripped teddy bears lay scattered across the floor. Old tables and chairs covered in scratches and
with the occasional leg missing were in the corners of the room, each with a case of crayons that
looked as though they had half the crayons missing. Picking up one of the coloring books from a
table, Sarah flicked through the pages. Every last page had been scribbled on, with barely any
white space left to colour. Shuddering, she put the book back down. She looked up to see a clock
and calendar on the wall: 7:30am, December 25th.
In the middle of the room, there was a Christmas tree. The saddest Christmas tree Sarah had ever
seen. It wasn’t small, but in this big room it looked tiny and lonely. It had no decorations, except
for a single star at the top which looked like it had been gold once but had lost all of it's colour
years ago, and now it was just a dull grey. No presents were under the tree. A big hand lay on
Sarah's shoulder, and she nearly leapt out of her skin. She turned, and a tall pale man in a black suit
with short hair stared down at her.
"What are you doing out of bed?" He said quickly.
"I, er, I'm lost," she blurted out. She winced. Why did I say that?
"Lost?" The man raised an eyebrow, "You're not supposed to be out of your bedroom until eight.
How did you get lost between your bed and the bedroom?”
Sarah stuttered and stammered, trying to think of a good answer and failing. The man gave Sarah an
ice cold stare, and then he seemed to melt like snow in a hot pan. He rubbed his forehead. “Well, it
was going to happen, I guess," he said, sounding extremely tired, "I should've known you kids
would be excited on Christmas. Even if...well..."
"So it is Christmas?" Said Sarah, suddenly feeling curious. She pointed at the bare Christmas tree,
"So why didn't Santa bring any presents?"
The man looked at the tree and let out a long sigh.
"Nobody brings presents to orphans," he said, "Not even Santa."
Sarah felt as though the floor had opened up beneath her. An orphan? Am...am I an orphan too?
The man's expression was hard again. He steered her out of the playroom and back into the cold
corridors. But they didn't go back to the bedroom: they went a different way this time.
"This way, Miss Pebbleton," said the man, "Seeing as you are up so early, you might as well help
the cooks with breakfast."

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