The Empty Seat
I walked into class after three months of summer break. Everyone seemed so much shorter than I remembered. Some faces were new, some looked exactly the same as last year, and others had changed so much I almost didn’t recognize them.
I caught up with my best friend, Lexi, talking about summer drama, friendships, and everything we’d missed over the break.
A few minutes after the bell rang, our teacher, Dr. Martinez, introduced himself before asking everyone else to do the same. As the introductions went on, I glanced around the room.
Someone was missing.
The quiet girl from last year.
She always tapped her pencil whenever she got nervous, and she had a small scar on the back of her hand. I only noticed it because we had been paired together for a history project. Her name was Camila.
Maybe she forgot school started today, I thought.
Still, something about her empty seat made it hard to look away.
“Hey, Lexi, look,” I whispered, nodding toward the empty seat.
“What is it?”
“It looks like Camila didn’t come to school today.”
Lexi frowned. “Who?”
“Camila. The quiet girl from last year.”
She looked at the empty desk again before turning back to me. “I... don’t think anyone sat there.”
“What do you mean?” I asked with an awkward laugh.
Lexi looked at me like I had said something strange.
“Camila?” she repeated. “I’ve never heard that name before.”
I frowned. “What? She was in our class last year.”
Lexi shook her head. “No... I think you’re mistaken.”
I laughed, hoping she was joking.
“Come on... you’re obviously kidding, right?”
She looked at me with a confused expression.
“Why would I joke about that?” she asked. “I think you’re the one joking. There’s never been anyone named Camila in our class.”
I sat back in my chair, wondering what had just happened. I could swear I knew her.
I remembered the way she tapped her pencil whenever she was nervous. I remembered the small scar on her hand. I remembered working with her on that history project last year.
Didn’t I?
The more I thought about it, the harder it became to picture her face.
I knew there had been a Camila.
At least, I thought there had.
Dr. Martinez began going over the basics of the class, but I couldn’t focus. My eyes kept drifting back to the empty desk. Lexi’s words echoed in my head, and the harder I tried to remember Camila’s face, the blurrier it became.
About an hour passed before Dr. Martinez started assigning seats. I waited for him to call her name.
He never did.
Maybe she transferred schools, I thought.
But that didn’t explain why Lexi acted like she’d never existed.
I remembered Camila. I knew I did.
So why was I the only one?
The bell rang, signaling it was lunchtime.
I walked to my locker, stuffed my books inside, and shut the door. My mind kept circling back to the same questions. Why hadn’t Dr. Martinez called Camila’s name? And why didn’t Lexi remember her?
I pushed open the cafeteria doors and spotted Lexi waving at me from across the room. A few of my other friends were already sitting at the table.
This was my chance.
“Hey, guys,” I said as I sat down. “Wasn’t it weird that Dr. Martinez never mentioned Camila today?”
The table fell silent.
A couple of people laughed. Others exchanged confused glances.
Finally, Daniela frowned.
“What? Elena…who’s Camila?”
I froze.
A few painfully awkward seconds passed before I forced out a laugh.
“Come on, guys. You all planned this to mess with me, didn’t you?”
But then I thought about the teacher and her absence, and it just didn’t make any sense.
I barely spoke for the rest of lunch. I couldn’t stop wondering why no one remembered her.
I decided I was going to prove she exists.
...Or existed.
As soon as lunch ended, I headed straight for the library.
“Mrs. Bonnie?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady. “Do you still have last year’s yearbooks?”
She smiled and pointed me toward a shelf near the back of the room.
“They should be over there.”
I grabbed one and hurried to the nearest table. My hands trembled as I flipped through the pages, desperately searching until I found my class from last year.
Found it.
