Sarah Sues Santa

P.J. Leonard

  Sarah Sues Santa

  Copyright 2016 P.J. Leonard

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard

  work of this author.

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  About The Author

  Chapter One

  The Night Before

 

  It was the smell of the turkey. Yes, that was the reason why she couldn’t sleep. For some reason Sarah could never understand, her parents always started cooking Christmas dinner a whole day before Christmas.

  “It’s a big ol’ bird!” her Dad had told her in the supermarket when she’d asked, “It takes a while to heat up.”

  “But it don’t look any bigger than a chicken!” Sarah had said, peering at the lumpy packaging stacked in the shopping trolley.

  Dad had looked uncomfortable when she’d said that for some reason, rubbing his head and looking a little lost as he stared at the cheese section. Was it something I said?

  Sarah pulled her duvet tighter over her head, and she felt a cold chill shoot up her legs as the warm cover slid off of her feet. She pulled in her legs and shivered – not with cold, but with excitement. Tomorrow is Christmas Day! Finally!

  She twisted and turned, trying every position possible to force herself to sleep, but the smell of turkey seeped through the covers and tickled her nose. At last, with a long sigh, she peeled back the duvet. Weak moonlight danced on her curtains. I can’t sleep. It’s impossible. She drummed her fingers on her pillow, then with a flick of a switch on her bedpost a lightbulb came on. She winced, then as her eyes adjusted to the light she sat up and pulled a little diary from under her pillow. Every single page was yellow and crinkly. It felt strange that she’d never have to use this diary again. She had used it every single day since last New Year, after all. Just one more read…maybe that will help me relax…

  She flicked through the pages, reading her notes scrawled on every single page since January 1st. Cleaned the windows…helped Mum with shopping…pulled out all the weeds in the garden…cooked when Mum and Dad were both ill…on and on the list of chores went, every page packed full of her good deeds big and small. She stopped and smiled on May 8th, which had only one sentence but it was written in big blue letters: SOLD 103 COOKIES FOR CHARITY! That had been a really good one.

  Yes, this year, she’d been a good girl. That had been her mission all year. Sarah would be the first to admit that last year had been very mixed. Some good stuff, sure, but there were still too many tantrums and yelling. Christmas last year had been pretty disappointing as a result. All she’d wanted was the Uberwoman action figure. She’d got a bunch of other toys that year and it had been a lot of fun, but still…no Uberwoman.

  And that’s when it had struck her, as they were sitting down for Christmas dinner and that old Christmas song played from the radio:

  He’s making a list, he’s checking it twice, he’s gonna find out who’s naughty or nice…

  She'd nearly dropped her fork. So that’s why. Of course. Santa had thought Sarah hadn’t been good enough to get an Uberwoman. The thought had made Sarah so angry she nearly crushed a cracker in her own hands, but before she could shout at her parents and complain about how unfair Santa was, she stopped herself. How would that help? Santa might be building a report up for next year already.

  And that was the last time she’d come close to getting angry. The silly childish Sarah was gone, and this year she’d become a proper grown up who didn’t sulk like a baby. True, there had been a couple of tricky moments here and there – not getting her pocket money when Dad didn’t get the pay he’d expected one month was tough, and there was the time Sarah did had go a whole month with a ripped shoe because they couldn’t afford a new pair – but she’d done it. Even her parents were suspicious, wondering what on earth had come over their little Sarah this year. But she knew better than to tell: it was between her and the big man in red.

  And when she’d finally written up her wishlist for Christmas this year, she knew she’d been so good that she deserved something special: an Uberwoman Deluxe Edition! With 5 changeable costume sets and glow in the dark hair! Sarah had almost laughed at the look on her parent’s face when they saw her list – they went nearly as white as the snow piling up against the windows! – but she’d held herself back from laughing. That would’ve been rude. Being rude was something that naughty kids did, not nice ones.

  She read on. Did second best in the class on the maths test…cleaned all the autumn leaves off of the driveway…helped set up the Christmas tree…Sarah yawned happily as the completed chores swam by. Yes, she was sure she’d done enough this year. She’d been as angelic as those angels in that other old Christmas song. And angels always got what they wanted.

  With one last look around her bedroom to check it was all neat and tidy, she flicked off the light, pulled her duvet over her eyes and drifted happily off to sleep.

  Chapter Two

  Christmas Day

 

  The second she awoke Sarah nearly burst out of her bed with excitement, but then curled back under the covers with the duvet wrapped tight around her. It was a cold morning, but more importantly, Christmas morning! She could barely contain herself. All year, even in the summer when she was sweating away in the garden and cutting herself on those thorn bushes trying to clear out the weeds, she would grit her teeth and remind herself…December 25th… and now, here it was. Santa had been to the house in the middle of the night. He must have stood on the roof of this very house and checked the name Sarah Pebbleton off of his ‘nice kids’ list…

  She couldn’t wait any longer. She leapt out of bed and, gasping as the cold wooden floorboards chilled her feet, she scrambled out of her pyjamas and into warmer clothes. She opened her bedroom door a little and peeked out to see if her parents were awake yet. The smell of Christmas dinner wafted over her, and her stomach grumbled. It was the only sound she heard. They’re not awake yet. Why don’t Mum and Dad ever get up early on Christmas Day? Aren’t they excited too? She paced around her room, thinking. It was tradition in her family that they all went downstairs into the living room together on Christmas morning to open the presents. It was a little annoying but Sarah liked that tradition, and besides, it would be horrible if she stopped being good right now, wouldn’t it? For all she knew, the presents could be magic and they might change if she did something wrong. Maybe…maybe she was doing something wrong right now, by waking up too early! Oh no!

  Sarah sat herself on the edge of the bed and took a deep breath. Don’t be silly, she told herself, Santa’s not that strict. Relax. She stood up and went to the window, the ledge just wide enough for her to sit on. She rubbed the condensation away from a wind
ow pane and looked out on the street below. A thick blanket of snow lay over everything, making the normally grey tarmac look clean and bright. Even now the snow was falling, a flurry of flakes spinning and whirling past the window and piling up below. It was silent out there right now, with only a few footprints here and there. Maybe she’d go out there sometime today, to build a snowman or get into a snowball fight with the other kids on the street? It all depended how much fun she’d be having with her Deluxe Uberwoman!

  Her bedroom door creaked open, and Mum stood there in her dressing gown.

  “I knew you’d be up,” she said with a smile, “Ready to open your presents?”

  Sarah leapt from the window ledge. “YES!”

 

  Dad opened the living room door. Inside it was dark, the Christmas Tree standing in the corner like a shadow. When he flicked on the switch, though, the tree sparkled with green, red and gold. Sarah’s heart pounded at the sight of the stack of presents under the tree. He’s been! He’s really been!

  Mum and Dad said something, but Sarah could barely hear them: she nearly dived at the presents and began unwrapping them as slowly and politely as her shaking fingers would let her.

  She started small. I want to build up to the main event. She unwrapped fun little presents first, some selection packs of sweets and some new books. Then they got bigger: soft toys, board games and even an full size Uberwoman cape that she could wear herself. Then she turned back to the tree to open her main present…but it wasn’t there. Only their cat Tinder lay curled under the glow of the fairy lights.

  Sarah felt as though something cold was tightening around her chest. She turned to her Mum and Dad…and in marched Dad, holding in front of him a present that was just the right size and shape. The ice in her chest dissolved as a wild fire spread through her right to her toes. Dad laid the present before her, and Sarah licked her dry lips. This is it! At last!

  She pulled at the ribbon and peeled the wrapping paper like the skin of an orange, savouring each and every moment. Finally, the red corner of the box peeked into view and she couldn’t hold on any longer: she tore away the wrapping to look at her Deluxe Uberwoman.

  Except…it wasn’t a Deluxe Uberwoman. Not exactly. It was…the original one. The one that she’d asked for last year.

  “You’ve got it, darling!” Mum smiled, “Looks like you’ve been a properly good girl this year!”

  Sarah stared at the figure through the see-through plastic, Uberwoman’s face staring back. Her heart sank slowly. She wasn’t quite sure how she felt. But she could feel her parent’s eyes fixed on her, and she quickly pulled what she hoped was a great big grin and said “Y-Yeah! This is great! I’d better get all of this up to my room, I’ve got a lot of playing to do!”

  Sarah couldn’t escape the living room fast enough. Uberwoman box in her hand, she closed her bedroom door behind her and slid down it, throwing the action figure onto her bed as she felt hot tears well in her eyes.

  For the rest of Christmas morning, Sarah’s mood was very up and down. Sometimes she’d look at her stack of presents and be very happy and grateful – it was a very good collection of gifts, and definitely better than last year – but then she’d look at her diary of chores and her fists would clench. After all the work she’d done this year, she couldn’t help but feel...disappointed.

  She was sat in the window ledge again, Uberwoman figure in her hands and looking down at the street. Some of the kids were outside now, building snowmen and pushing sledges around. Why had Santa given her the old version of Uberwoman? Sure, it was basically the same thing: the figure itself was exactly the same. The only difference were those extra costumes and the glow-in-the-dark hair. But after spending all year being as nice as possible, why couldn’t Santa give her the one thing she’d asked for? Loads of the other kids had gotten this old Uberwoman last year, so it wasn’t exactly special anymore: Sarah had seen this old version of Uberwoman in a lot of half-price sales this year.

  She sighed, and steam shot across the glass.

  “Sarah!” her Dad called from downstairs, “Dinner’s ready!”

  Sarah peeled herself away from the window, and tossed the Uberwoman onto her bed. At the door, though, she stopped herself: come on. Cheer up! A lot of kids out there would love to get even one present for Christmas. You’re very lucky! Mum and Dad have put a lot of effort into dinner too: go and put on your best smile for them.

  And so Sarah put on a smile as she opened the door and went down the stairs.

  Chapter Three

  One More Letter

 

  As always, the food was wonderful and Sarah had a lot of fun pulling crackers with her Mum and Dad, but Sarah couldn’t help noticing that something was a little…off. Mum and Dad always laid out enough food to feed a small army at Christmas time, and while there was certainly plenty of the potatoes, pigs in blankets, Yorkshire puddings and vegetables to go around, it was the first year that Sarah could see gaps on the table. And the turkey they’d bought definitely seemed smaller than last year. Mum and Dad seemed to be acting a bit weird too: they seemed to laugh a little bit too hard at the bad jokes inside the crackers.

  “Right, time to start clearing up!” Mum declared so suddenly that Sarah nearly dropped the last chunk of potato down her front.

  “I’ll help,” said Sarah through her mouthful, stacking the empty plates.

  “Oh, don’t be silly, dear,” said Mum, taking the plates from her, “You should go and play, you’ve got all of your new toys. And I think I can hear your friends playing outside too. Go and enjoy yourself!”

  Sarah stood with her arms still outstretched as Mum and Dad gathered the crockery and headed for the kitchen sink. Sarah couldn’t remember a time when they had ever refused her help – and she should know, she’d offered it a lot this year! Not helping now felt…weird. What was going on?

  Without a word she stepped out of the kitchen and was halfway up the stairs when she heard a strange noise.

  Crying.

  Sarah tiptoed up to the top step and peeked through the banisters and into the kitchen. Mum was sat on a chair, with Dad kneeling next to her and holding her hands.

  “It’s just…she’s been so good this year,” Mum sobbed, “And she couldn’t get what she wanted. She…she must hate this Christmas…”

  Dad held Mum in a hug, and Sarah crept up the last step and slipped into her bedroom. Her face felt hot and her heart was beating fast. Why? Why did her parents feel bad? It wasn’t their fault she got an old Uberwoman for Christmas, that was Santa!

  In fact, now she came to think of it, what did her parents get for Christmas? Sarah remembered that they got some nice little gifts last year – Dad got a watch and Mum got a necklace – but this year she hadn’t seen any presents under the tree for them. And how about Christmas dinner? It was definitely smaller than last year had been. Sarah wasn’t silly, though, she knew that things had been tough for Mum and Dad at work, and money was really tight this year, but that made Sarah even more suspicious. Mum and Dad have worked as hard as I have! Why couldn’t Santa give any of us a good year? What did we all do so wrong to deserve this?

  Sarah frowned, and she stomped over to her small desk and pulled out a piece of paper and a pen. Her hand shook because she was so angry, but she knew exactly what she wanted to write:

 

  Dear Santa,

  I hope you are enjoying your nice rest after all of your hard work delivering presents to all of the SO-CALLED good boys and girls.

  I am just writing to you again to let you know that I, Sarah Pebbleton Aged 7, will be sooing sueing suing you for not doing your job properly and ruining our family’s Christmas. Me, my Mum and my Dad have all worked so hard this year and you have just made us all feel really REALLY bad.

  I will start doing all of the legal important things tomorrow, and I will be coming to the North Pole in person to come and speak to you. Actually, I will start going to the North Pole TOMORROW so you
had better be ready, Mr. Claus! And no, I won’t bring you any cookies and milk!

 

  From

  Sarah Pebbleton Aged 7

 

  She folded the letter up and was just about to put it into a pink envelope when she stopped herself. No, this was a serious letter. It couldn’t go in a pink envelope! All of the professional and grown-up envelopes were downstairs in the unit under the TV. If she went down to get one now she might be asked what she was doing, and that would lead to all kinds of awkward questions. No, she didn’t want to stress out her parents any more than they already were: this was her personal fight. She was going to sue Santa Claus. And she would wait until tonight, when the time was right.

  Chapter Four

  Early Post

 

  The second Sarah’s alarm woke her up, she slammed a hand on it and it fell silent. 3:00am. She was so sleepy and it was so cold outside of her bed that she almost fell back asleep, but then the memory of her Mum crying swept over her, and she was wide awake. Shuddering as she slipped into her ice-cold clothes, she picked up her letter and crept down the stairs, wincing every time a step gave a loud creak.

  She peered into the living room. Sometimes Mum and Dad would fall asleep in here or would watch a movie late at night, but tonight it was pitch black inside. She pushed the door open, and walked over to the TV. Pulling a drawer open, she dug through the pile of old batteries, wires and bits of paper until she found a clean white envelope.

  Something moved in the corner of her eye, and she gasped as she swung around. Tinder the cat sat on the sofa, swishing her tail and eyeing her with narrow yellow eyes.

  “Stupid cat,” Sarah muttered as she slipped her letter to Santa into the envelope and licked it shut. She pulled a pen out of the drawer – then another, and another until she found one that worked – and wrote To Santa, North Pole in her best writing on the front. Does this need a stamp? No, it should be fine: I’ve sent letters to Santa without stamps before. Besides, I don’t want to pay any money to send letters to him!

  She slipped out into the hallway and headed for the front door. Now for the tricky bit. The wind howled outside and snow still fell past the door’s window. She slid into her wellington boots and pulled on her warmest jacket, gloves and woolly hat. Even with her gloves on she could feel the cold door handle making her fingers cold. She took a deep breath, and pulled the door open.