Tom didn't show up for school. Emma noticed immediately, she and Tom always sat together during circle time, always partnered for projects, always played together during recess. But his seat was empty. She asked the teacher. --- "Where's Tom?" "He's not feeling well today, Emma." "Will he be back tomorrow?" "I'm not sure. We'll have to wait and see." The answer felt wrong. Tom had never been sick before. No one in Emma's class had ever been sick. They were all healthy, all the time, always ready to learn and play. Emma felt the itch again. She asked her friends about Tom. "Has anyone talked to Tom?" The other children looked at her with blank expressions. "Who's Tom?" one of them asked. Emma stared. "Tom. He sits next to me. We play together every day." "I don't know anyone named Tom," the child said. Emma felt a chill. She asked another friend. Then another. None of them remembered Tom. It was as if he had never existed, as if Emma had imagined him, dreamed him, invented him out of nothing. But she knew Tom was real. She had played with him yesterday. She remembered his laugh, his favorite color, his fear of the dark. That night, Emma asked her parents. "Where's Tom?" "Who's Tom, sweetheart?" "My friend from school. He wasn't there today." Her parents exchanged a look Emma was beginning to recognize, the look that meant they were deciding how to answer. "Emma, sometimes friends move away. It's sad, but it happens." "But the other kids don't remember him. No one remembers him except me." Her mother knelt down. "Emma, are you sure Tom was real? Sometimes children have imaginary friends. It's normal." "He wasn't imaginary! I played with him. I talked to him. He was real." Her parents' expressions were gentle but concerned, the look adults give children who are confused, who don't understand, who need help. Emma felt anger for the first time in her life.
Emma began investigating. She didn't know how to investigate, she was seven years old, and investigating was not something children did. But she had questions, and she needed answers. She started by looking for evidence of Tom. --- She searched her room. There should have been evidence, drawings they had made together, toys they had shared, notes they had passed. But there was nothing. It was as if Tom had been erased from her belongings as thoroughly as he had been erased from everyone's memories. Except Emma still remembered. She searched the classroom. Tom's desk was gone, not just empty, but completely removed. The space where it had stood was now filled with a bookshelf, as if the desk had never been there. But Emma remembered where it had been. She remembered sitting next to it, talking to Tom, sharing crayons. She searched the playground. There was no trace of Tom, no favorite hiding spot, no special game they had played, no mark he had left on the world. It was as if he had never existed. But Emma remembered. And her memory was becoming sharper, more detailed, more insistent. She found something unexpected. In the corner of the playground, hidden behind a bush, was a small object, a toy car, red and scratched, with a wheel missing. Emma recognized it immediately. It was Tom's favorite toy. He had shown it to her just last week. She picked it up. The car was real, solid in her hand, evidence that Tom had existed. Someone had tried to erase him, but they had missed this. They had missed the toy car hidden in the bushes. Emma felt a surge of triumph. But she also felt fear. If someone was erasing children, removing them from existence, deleting them from memory, then Emma was in danger. She had noticed. She remembered. She was asking questions. What would they do to her?