Page 11 of Wanted

There’s usually not a curtain there. At least, not that I can remember. It must be special for today.

Heading quickly in that direction, it feels like my white slippers skim across the floor like a stone skipping across water. I’m so afraid of getting in trouble, I grab the thick velvet, yank the curtain to the side, and slip behind it.

Before the curtain falls back into place, Sister Agatha turns around to face me, her black habit swirling around her like a dark cloud of doom.

“It’s about time!” she hisses sharply and grabs my arm.

Her thin, bony fingers dig painfully into my muscle as she drags me along a line of girls dressed in white like me.

“We’re starting the ceremony late because of you!” Sister Agatha seethes as we reach the end of the line.

Then she releases me and gives me a sharp smack on the back of my head.

Not prepared or braced for pain, I cry out and tears sting my eyes.

Without thinking, I reach up, my hands cradling the back of my head while the line of girls in front of me breaks out in giggles.

Sister Agatha’s eyes spark with even more fury and she gets the same incensed look my mother gets before she slaps me again across the back of my hands. “There will be no crying! Stand there and be silent!”

Knuckles stinging, skin warm and throbbing, I bite down hard on my cheek and fill my mouth with blood.

Needing its bitter comfort to drag my hands away from my sore scalp.

Her body tense and ready to pounce on me, Sister Agatha watches me like a hawk, daring me to defy her again.

Once my hands are down at my sides, she gives a curt nod and turns to march up the line of girls standing in front of me.

Her thick heels thump against the floor as she snaps out, “Today, young ladies, you will be Judged before the eyes of our God, Almighty!”

The giggling ahead of me cuts off as if all the air in this small, cramped space was just sucked out.

Curtained off from the rest of the cathedral, we’ve all been squeezed into a dusty, unused corner as if we’re something that should be tucked away and hidden. The small area shadowed in darkness by the thick curtain, the only light we have is provided by an ancient, brassy candelabra.

The flames flickering at the tops of the candles dance an erratic dance, making everything look like it’s straight out of a nightmare.

Silently counting all the heads of curls, white ribbons, and ponytails ahead of me, I mentally add up nine other girls.

I recognize a couple of girls ahead of me from Sunday Masses, Michelle and Trinity, but I don’t actually know them. I’ve never played with them.

My mother absolutely detests playdates.

The other girls, though, are complete strangers.

“Our Prophet will look into your souls and he will know your future worth!” Sister Agatha declares as she reaches the beginning of the line and turns with a flourish to face everyone. Her gaunt, almost sickly, face flushed with righteousness. “All will be known to him. Your thoughts. Your prayers. Your desires. Your wishes. Your good deeds. Your sins! Your wickedness! You will not be able to hide anything!”

Some of the girls glance nervously at each other while the others look like they’re about to cry at any second.

“Only the pure of heart will pass the Judging. Only those truly devoted to God will be found worthy. All others will be doomed to burn in the fires of Hell for eternity!” Sister Agatha bellows, spittle flying out of her mouth.

Pausing to catch her breath, her hawkish gaze falls upon each of us.

Weighing us and judging us herself before she asks, “Do you know what eternity is, girls?”

Before anyone can work up the courage to answer, she goes on. “It is forever. It is never-ending! You will burn. You will suffer. You will feel unimaginable pain. You will want to die, but you will never die. And no one will save you. No one will help you. Not even your parents! All you will know is misery!”

Several girls burst into tears.

I’m so worried, so afraid, I can’t move. Terror gripping me.

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