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Sarah Sues Santa – P.J. Leonard

Sarah held her hands over her mouth. "That's terrible!"
Mr. Vekil began pulling the cloth off of the pictures on the wall. It was a young Mr. Vekil, living
his life as an orphan, playing with toys and surrounded by other children. In none of the photos was
he smiling. "This was my room. The orphanage was much bigger, then, and we all had our own
rooms. That didn't stop the big kids from coming in and breaking all of my toys though. I didn't
mind that much. The toys reminded me of my family. Nobody adopted me. Everyone knew about
that weird Vekil family. When I turned sixteen, I was old enough to get my own job and leave."
"But you came back..." Sarah whispered, "You're the owner of this orphanage now."
Mr. Vekil nodded.
"Wait, hang on," Sarah rubbed her head, as though she was trying to massage all of the information
into her brain, "If all of this is true -"
"It is."
"Then why have you made this place so horrible?" Sarah waved an arm down the empty concrete
corridor, "You know how hard it is be an orphan, so why are making everyone's lives miserable?
No toys, no going outside, all crammed into one bedroom, lots of chores, no..."
"No Christmas?" Mr. Vekil added with a sneer, "Christmas is a lie, Miss Pebbleton. Oh, I believed
it was all real, for a while. All the things they say in those songs. Christmas spirit, peace on earth,
goodwill to all men. My family were obsessed with Christmas, but they put their own son into an
orphanage. Where's the Christmas spirit in that? Where was Santa when I needed him the most?"
Sarah held her tongue. What Mr. Vekil said sounded eerily similar to her own thoughts over the last
few days, except his story was much worse than hers.
"You say that it is horrible here?" Mr Vekil gave a short, sharp laugh, "This is real life, Miss
Pebbleton. The children here will be ready for just how cruel the real world can be. They will never
have to experience the pain of having their dreams shattered like I did."
"But...it's good to have dreams," said Sarah, "It's good to believe in something."
"Like Santa?" Mr. Vekil gave a twisted smile, "Even when he has disappointed you every single
year, Miss Pebbleton?"
Sarah bit her lip. It was like Mr. Vekil could read her thoughts. She didn't want to agree with him,
but a tiny bit of her did.
He stood up straight. "I'm sorry to hear what happened to you, Mr. Vekil," she said, "but you
shouldn't make other kids sad just because you think it's right. It doesn't matter if it's Christmas or
not. The real world isn't that bad."
"Oh really?" Mr. Vekil raised an eyebrow, "Well, Miss Pebbleton, you have your tickets. Go.
Leave. You don't believe me? Go and see the real world for yourself. You won't like what you see.
Trust me."
Sarah and Mr. Vekil stared at each other for a moment. Then Mr. Vekil put his hand into his pocket
and pulled out another, bigger key.
"Here," he said, handing it to her, "It's the spare key to the front door. Keep it. You'll need it for
when you come back."
Sarah clutched the key tight in her fist. She felt her cheeks burning, and without saying a single
word she turned and left the room.

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