Chapter Description: Emma's friends notice her disappearance
Emma lay on the floor of Mr. Harrison’s office. The man himself was doing something out of Emma’s eyesight (The foot stuck in her mouth blocked her vision as well). A pile of oddly colored fabrics (her clothes) lay on the floor in the corner. All she was wearing was a bra and her panties, although she didn’t like the bra.
Her mind knew nothing of breasts, so to her, the bra was meaningless, with two pinky blobs stuck behind it. However, she had no time to remove it; her toe wasn’t going to suck itself.
Mr. Harrison had managed to dig up some nappies and a build-it yourself Playpen, along with several infant toys, and enlarged them using his Biological Re-calibrator to enlarge them to suit Emma.
After hypnotizing a babysitter into thinking Emma was a normal sized baby, Mr. Harrison set out for college.
5A set in their classroom, waiting for Emma to arrive. She was usually the first person to arrive, yet this time she wasn’t there.
Mr. Thompson strolled in, his usual aura of happiness cheering up the class, especially as he tripped over a loose shoelace.
Halfway through the class, a girl called Suzanne asked the question everyone was wanting to know the answer to. "Mr. Thompson, where is Emma?"
"Oh, did you forget? She caught the plane to America yesterday! We all waved her off! She’s on her gap year, a year early." He laughed with the last statement.
At break, they decided to discuss this matter together. "When was the last time we saw her?" Tom, Emma’s Girlfriend asked.
"Yesterday, during Mr. Harrison’s english class. She vanished without trace after that." Suzanne said, reclining in the grass.
"And, also," Sam, the third youngest in the year interjected, "Has anyone noticed Mr. Harrison has got smarte....."
"Sam, Mr. Harrison’s intellect has no relevance here. But you’re right. He’s the prime suspect. I say we investigate there on Saturday."
All of 5A, having tried and failed to bring others into this (they all knew she’d gone to America) went to Mr. Harrison’s on Saturday. Only Sam stayed away, as he had "other commitments".
No car was in the driveway, and - what luck! - the door was open. They made their way in the house, looking around. Tom tried to stop himself looking in the mirror, as he could feel that the mirror was, in a way, looking at him.
"Guys? Check this out..."
Suzanne was standing by the statue by the stairs. "This remind you of anyone?"
They looked hard for a few seconds, then Tom saw it. "Mrs. Smith!" He gasped.
"I see it..."
The group froze. The sound had come from upstairs. Clearly they were not alone here. They made their way upstairs slowly. Only Suzanne stayed, looking at the statue, seeing it had a "sad" look in it’s face. Suzanne imagined herself as an object, say, a wine glass, and shuddered. She never heard or saw the blue beam being fired right at her.
Meanwhile, the rest of the class, upstairs, saw that all of the doors were locked. All, that is, except one. Tom pushed the door open tentatively.
Emma was having a fun time in her playpen. She found no use for the toys, so she threw them around. She giggled every time she threw something, giggling very hard when she noticed that when she threw something, her breasts waggled. She then swung her torso left-to-right, enjoying the swaying bumps on her chest. Then she saw the newcomers.
To any respective 17-year-old male, the sight of your girlfriend playing with her boobs, all the while naked except for a large nappy, would probably go spare, and try to kill her for being so "odd". Not Tom.
"Emms, are you alright?" He squatted down next to her in the playpen, watched tentatively by 16 pairs of eyes. He tried to make eye contact with Emma, but her eyes were glassy, as if she was there, but she wasn’t there. It was an odd feeling, looking at her like this. A string of drool hung from her chin, and, Tom noticed with a shudder, a yellow-y stain was spreading across the base of her nappy. She had just peed herself.
Another sound. A creak. Someone was climbing the stairs. And it didn’t sound like whoever it was was wearing converse all star shoes, like Suzanne.
Tom now understood. Why the car wasn’t there. Why the door was open. Why all doors except this one were locked. No one in their group would have expected this, it was the perfect way to disguise it.
Mr. Harrison, Biological Re-calibrator in one hand, wine glass in the other (this was Suzanne) was standing behind them, a smile spread across his face, his trap now complete.