The Soul Seekers by Amy Saia

photo.
    “Springvale’s newest church, the Soul Seekers, are holding a picnic this weekend at their elegant and newly finished two-story building. The event has been placed in hopes of recruiting fresh faces. Children, adults—all are welcome. Pie raffle to precede lecture and new member sign-up.
    “The Soul Seekers are a fresh kind of ministry aimed to reach out to the lowest sinner or the wandering soul. Their aim is to build a large community of grand fellowship strong enough to deal with the problems facing our world today: loss of hope, lack of faith, and weakness of conviction. Join this wonderful group and be a part of Springvale’s most promising future.”
    My stomach turned. I wondered how many people had gone to this picnic, not realizing the dangers behind the promises. And through the years, how many events had been held, enticing even more members? I held the dried, aged paper over the open trash bag and dropped it in with disgust.
    Suddenly, all the heat in the attic changed and my breath flew out in a long cloud of frost. I heard the sound of footsteps coming closer, echoing through the drafty room and ricocheting against each wall in stereo to my overexcited, buzzing ears. They stopped just short of where I sat. I trembled, waiting for him to speak.
    “I’m tuned to you now, Emma.”

12: The Sketch
    “Oh!” I let out a little gasp and pivoted toward the intruder, a young man with dark, curling hair and gorgeous eyes. My lips broke into a smile.
    It sure was lovely to see him again.
    “Hi.”
    “Hi,” he murmured.
    I was melting again, like a hot Popsicle left inside an unopened wrapper.
    “I heard you.”
    I stood, dropping all the newspapers at my feet, and ran into his arms.
    “It wasn’t supposed to happen. I was going to be alone forever, and there would be no one to worry about who would be bothered to care about me in return. Don’t you see?”
    I nodded, still clinging to him, my fingers wrapped inside his hair. “It doesn’t have to be that way though. There’s too much that connects us.”
    “You’re not going to get hurt because of me. I won’t allow it!”
    His hands spread across my back, the ice burning me, lifting every follicle on my skin and then warming them back down with the fire.
    “I told you, who cares if I get hurt? It’s up to me.”
    “No!”
    “Yes,” I whispered. “Yes, this is my life, and I get to spend it how I please. I found the coin, I’m the only one who can see you. It’s fate.”
    A frown flashed in the corners of his mouth. “Don’t doom yourself to fate, Emma. Fight it a little.”
    His hands moved to extricate me, which I resisted. Our eyes met, lips close.
    “What’s wrong with me wanting to help you? You’re just afraid.”
    When I toyed with a strand of black hair, his eyes closed. “I’m terrified,” William said.
    “But you shouldn’t be. I’m here for this. I know it. When we get you back into a normal life again, you’ll be happy that I helped.”
    This time William was successful in unbinding my grasp, and he moved away to sit on a crate of records. “Oh,” he said, eyebrows raising for a second. “I see.”
    “What?”
    “You think I can be normal again.”
    “Well, yes. I thought that’s what this was all about. Don’t you want to?”
    William bent over to pick up an old record sleeve with Dean Martin on the cover. “I gave up on that idea a long time ago.”
    “Then what? I don’t understand.”
    “Emma, I’m just trying to keep from becoming a Seeker. There’s no hope in me ever being alive again.”
    “I don’t believe that.” I turned, no longer able to look into his eyes. “I think there is a chance. I can feel it.”
    “How exactly did you think something like this would work? We’re caught in something that’s too big to handle. All human knowledge is completely subservient compared to what they do. We don’t have the means to change me back.”
    I frowned, still hiding with my back