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Sarah Sues Santa – P.J. Leonard

Chapter Fourteen: The Orphanage

The man's name was Noel Vekil. The cooks started talking the moment he left Sarah with them.
Sarah longed to follow him - she had so many questions - but the cooks immediately set her to work
stirring a big pot of tomato soup. It didn't look like a good soup, though: it looked as thin as water,
and smelled like used socks.
As the steam licked around her face, her mind raced. An orphanage? So where were her parents?
Maybe she didn't want to know the answer to that question, but she kept telling herself that this
wasn't real, that this was all just Santa's magic. But this all felt so real that she couldn't help but feel
sad.
"You okay, darling?" said one of the cooks, her friendly wrinkled face peering from the other side
of the pot, "You look as though you're about to burst about crying."
"Just...thinking,"
"About what? Anything I can help with?"
"I doubt it."
The old cook watched her stirring silently for a while, then she walked around the pot to stand next
to Sarah. She stood next to Sarah for a while, not saying a word. It made Sarah feel very
uncomfortable. Finally, she spoke.
"You're new here, aren't you?" She croaked.
Sarah didn't look at her. Was she new? She wasn't sure.
But the old cook nodded anyway. "I thought so." She nodded at the door that Noel Vekil had
walked out of. "Don't ever call him Noel," she said, "He hates it. Just call him Mr. Vekil. Even the
other adults here have to call him that. We don't like him very much."
The old cook gave a crooked grin and raised a finger to her lips. Sarah grinned, and they both
looked up. Through the steam, Sarah looked over the dining hall. It was a long and narrow room
with plastic chairs and tables, a serving hatch next to the kitchen, and nothing else. It was dark,
and even though she was stirring a pot of hot liquid Sarah couldn't help but shiver.
"No wonder you're cold," said the old cook, "You're still in your pyjamas."

Soon, the other kids filed into the kitchen. Some were older than Sarah, maybe even as old as
fourteen. Some were younger than her, barely taller than the tables they tried to sit at.
The old lady took the ladle from Sarah. "That should do it, dear," she croaked, "Now run along, go
and sit by your friends."
Who are my friends here? Do I have any friends at all? Sarah's mind raced as she walked out of
the kitchens, took a deep breath at the door of the dining hall, and pushed her way through the
doors.
Already the hall was bustling with movement as kids lined up to collect their breakfast. As Sarah
joined the back of the queue, three of the older kids pushed in front her, staring at her as though
daring her to say something. As Sarah looked away she spotted the girl from the top bunk further
up the queue, looking straight at her.
"Sarah! Come here!" She called, "I have something to show you!"
Not daring to look at the scowling older kids, Sarah jumped up the queue to where the girl from the
top bunk waited. The other girl called Becky was there as well.
"What is it?" Sarah said quietly.
"Huh?"
"The thing you wanted to show me."
"Oh that!" said the girl from the top bunk, "It's not important now. Come on, stand next to us."

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