This is just to give you something that I wrote. Note I don't have any particular style. And no, it isn't perfect. And it's quite old...

Tom

Saying goodbye is something I’ve always been relatively good at. I haven’t, for as long as I can remember, ever cried when I’m saying goodbye.

Though everyone else may be teary, I’m always dry-faced. Perhaps the fact that I had Tom meant that I could share everything with him, keep it hidden from the outside world. He was always my comforter.

Saying goodbye to Tom was the hardest thing I ever had to do.

*

Tell someone you have a friend only you can see when you’re five, they’ll laugh and ask what their name is. Tell them the same thing nine years later and they start to think there’s something wrong with your head.

There’s nothing wrong with my head. I’m perfectly normal. I just have a friend that no one else can see or speak to. He is not imaginary. I can’t stand it when people call Tom my imaginary friend. He isn’t. Imagination is something that people make up as they go. I don’t make up anything that Tom does. He makes his own decisions. I don’t do anything for him. But we have to share everything, because no one ever puts a seat out for him or a plate of food. But we don’t mind. He takes stuff off my own plate, not much though, he never really seems very hungry. He sleeps on a sleeping bag on my floor.

Tom was born the same day, the same hour as me, but I was born in the hospital, he was born at home. I didn’t actually meet him until I was four, when we moved here. He was sitting on the garden wall. He introduced himself as “Tom. Just Tom.” and we’ve been friends ever since.

I guess I never questioned why he never went back to his own family. He never talked about them like I talked about Grace, my little sister. We never went to his house. I think, in the end, I came to the conclusion that he was an orphan, like in the books and the movies. But no one seemed to mind if he came to live with us. Nothing ever went wrong where Tom was concerned.

I started in my first school that year too. The chairs were the sort where the legs sort of rose up on either side to make almost armrests. Different colour for each year. So, since Tom had to share my seat, we both had to sit on one of the little leg things. It was pretty uncomfortable, but we both decided it was better than the itchy carpet on the Junior Infants floor. So we shared the seat. I shared my lunch as well, Tom had half my sandwich everyday.

Psychiatrists may say that children have “imaginary friends” because they feel lonely. This wasn’t in Tom’s case. I got on really well with other people. One girl, Mary, even talked to Tom sometimes. Some people laughed at me and said “Don’t be silly! Tom isn’t real!” But he was. He was, because I could see him. Even if they were too narrow minded to look and see him standing there right next to me.

We lived through Primary School like that. Soon people knew to expect if they wanted to be friends with me, they had to be friends with Tom. I remember once in First Class, we came running out of the school and Hannah ran up to her mum and said “Mam! Mam! Can Jennie and Tom come over?”

Her mum looked round, a little confused. “Who’s Tom?”

“Jennie’s friend.” she said pointing almost directly at Tom.

Her mother’s forehead creased a little, then smoothened. “Of course they can.”

And that was pretty much how it was from then on. Me and Tom went everywhere together. If I was sick, he stayed off school and sat beside me to make me laugh. Tom never got sick. Just like he never slept, or, when I think about it, did anything in any way human. He never had to take a bath because he smelt bad, because he didn‘t smell. He never had to buy new clothes because his old ones were too small, because his clothes grew and changed with him.

Tom was always blonde, with brown streaks, and startling green eyes. When I got older, I began to appreciate just how hot my best friend was. He slouched a lot, always leaning against walls and tables. He wore baggy jeans and a t-shirt with an illegible logo. It had switched from the same jeans, but tidier and worn higher on the waist, and a stripy polo shirt.

Though colours and styles may have changed slightly, Tom was always really wearing the same thing. I suppose I never questioned why his clothes were never kept anywhere. It was just convenient not to think about it.

Tom was always affectionate. In the past few years, he took to hugging me and holding my hand all the time. Don’t get the wrong idea. I wasn’t interested in him THAT way. But he didn’t have anyone else. He’d never have a real girlfriend, because of the drawback that I was the only one that could see him. He wasn’t like a brother either. I didn’t love him the way I loved Grace. Not even the way that I loved Mary, who quickly became my next best friend, my best girl friend. But me and Tom, it was something deeper. Something harder to explain. We were like, two people with the same soul.

Of course I never thought that we would turn out to be just one soul. That was what everyone ELSE thought. Not Tom and I. We knew better.

We knew better.

*

So here I am. Fourteen. Petite brunette, bright eyed, hockey captain. Life as me, as far as it’s gone, is pretty good. I know some people would envy me.

And my best friend is also the hottest guy I know. Even if no one else

agrees because they can’t see him.

This certainly has its uses. He’s never been given a seat in a class, and now that we can choose our own seats, he still lets someone else take the chair beside me. He’ll sit on a windowsill or a desk and make faces at me. We can’t talk anymore, because of the funny looks we get. He makes faces at me though, and I throw things at him. Tom doesn’t pay attention, he never does exams, school is just a breeze for him. Lucky duck. I have trouble with Maths and Geography. He laughs at me and says Geography is simple, and since we both want to travel together when we’re older, you’d think I’d be good at it. But I’m fine with maps, it’s all this physical and financial stuff I don’t get. But Tom helps me with homework, and sometimes whispers the answers to questions in my ear in class. He refuses to help me in exams though. He says that he has “morals”. Pah. He’s just being mean.

But that’s how we live. He eats off my plate. He walks me home, even the days we have hockey training, he waits for me. The only times he isn’t with me is in the bathroom or getting changed, obviously, and when Mary and I are having girl time. I need other girls around, he seems to accept that. We go shopping and have sleepovers. But if Mary isn’t there and I feel like crying, or I have bad cramps, when you expect any guy to run a mile, he doesn’t. He’s always there when I need a friend.

Was. Was always there.

*

You’re probably wondering what happened. Maybe. Perhaps you’ve come to the conclusion “Jennie grew up.” Perhaps I disowned him. Perhaps one day I woke up and I couldn’t find him.

But when you have a best friend for as long as that, you don’t just let them disappear.

It started a rainy Friday February morning when we got into school. Our school is a collaboration of old houses and flat brown purpose built blocks. We made our way into the Form Room. Our uniform is simply a hoody and t-shirt over whatever we want, but Tom just wears the same as always.

Mary was sitting on a table flirting across the room with Harry. Half the guys are in love with her secretly anyway, she hardly has to try. She smiled at us.

“Hey guys.” Mary was one of the few people that acknowledged Tom’s existence. “What’s the craic?”

“Not much.” I said, dumping my bag on the desk. “Can I copy your maths?”

She rolled her eyes. “Surely Tom could’ve helped you with it.”

“Yeah, but I chose to ask you instead.”

“Go on then.” she said smilingly.

I pulled out my copy and starting scribbling down what she had written. Tom kept nudging my arm and trying to make me mess it up, but I didn’t. Mary watched curiously, then came out with.

“So listen, you coming to this movie tomorrow? With me and Natasha?”

“Yeah, why not? Just the four of us right?”

Mary looked uncomfortable. “Just the three of us actually. No offence Tom,

but Natasha…she doesn’t think you exist.”

I felt Tom deliberately keeping very still beside me, but he was so tense he

was trembling. He wasn’t angry, but scared in a way. Like he always was, when someone pointed out this was what some people thought. Like he was afraid I would begin to think so too. But he should’ve known I wouldn’t.

I still looked at him sadly. “Tom?”

“It’s alright,” he said shaking his head and smiling. “Go on. You’ll have fun.”

I turned to Mary. “Yeah sure I’ll come.”

“Cool.” she said. I waited for her to apologise to Tom, like she usually would.

She didn’t.

I watched closely. She ignored Tom the rest of classes. Finally, the time for hockey training came. We went into the girl’s changing rooms. As I pulled my hair back into a ponytail and put a band in it, there was a lull in Mary’s conversation and I asked.

“You angry with Tom or something, Mary?”

She looked up from putting her socks on.

“No. It’s just…” Once again she looked uncomfortable. She tugged at my arm and I sat down.

“Jennie, you’re my best friend, you know that right? And Tom is your other best friend.”

“You don’t get on with him?”

“No.” she said shaking her head. “It’s complicated. I know you find it fine to be talking to him, but I can’t see him and I feel silly.”

“So you’re embarrassed by him?”

“No, but-” She visibly winced. “Sometimes…I…I really…I don’t think that…”

“You think he doesn’t exist.” I said, my voice flat.

“Well come on Jennie!” she said standing up. “I’ll be fifteen next week.

And…my best friend still hasn’t let go of her imaginary friend.”

“He’s not imaginary!” I said, now furious. “He isn’t!”

“Come on Jennie! You can’t honestly still think that!” Her voice had risen.

“I do! So why don’t you?” So had mine.

“Because-” she quietened slightly. “Because I find it hard to believe in

someone I’ve never seen or spoken to.” She put a hand on my arm. “Listen Jen, it’s easy for you, he’s always by your side, but the rest of us just have to take your word for it that he exists and sometimes your word just isn’t enough.”

“Right.” I said coldly, pulling away. “Thanks for telling me. But I’ve got to go do my laps.”

I left her there sitting alone in the changing room. I looked round for Tom but he wasn’t there. Maybe he had gone down to the pitch. I made my own way down.

I channelled all my rage at Mary and scored three goals to boot in the mess game we played. I ignored everyone and ran back to the changing room, grabbed my stuff and left. Tom had gone home without me. I’m sure he had his reasons.

I got home and he was sitting on my bad waiting.

“Why didn’t you stay?” I asked him as I went into the bathroom and peeled off my hockey gear.

“Didn’t feel like it.” he replied. Something in his voice made me pause before I stepped into the shower. Instead I pulled my tracksuits and hoody back on and went out to him.

“Tom? Is everything alright?”

He looked up. “Oh yes, fine, perfect.”

“Tom?” I asked quietly. “What was the real reason you didn’t stay?”

He looked at me with those green sparkling eyes. “Mary doesn’t believe

anymore, does she?”

I bit my lip and shook my head. Tom shrugged. “Bound to happen.” he answered.

“It shouldn’t happen! Why shouldn’t she believe in you? It’s ridiculous.”

Tom’s gaze bore into mine. “Are you sure that she isn’t right?”

“What?” I said frowning.

“Are you sure that she isn’t right, I asked.”

“Of course she isn’t right. She thinks she doesn’t exist, how could she

possibly be-”

Something in his expression made me stop. He looked at me, his face the picture of misery.

“What you getting Tom?”

“What if Mary was right Jennie?”

“But she isn’t! I can see you, and hear you and touch you. Look!” I said and punched him on the arm.

He very, very nearly smiled, a sad little smile it would have been too.

“I think she is. In fact I know she is.” he said.

“Tom?” I asked, trying hard to keep my voice from breaking. “Are you

feeling alright?”

He reached over and kissed the top of my head. “I’ve felt brilliant ever since I met you Jennie. That’s always the way. And I thought, you’ve gone so much further than any other person, ever, and I thought maybe it would last forever. But I know it can’t. I have to move on, start anew.”

At this point, tears made tracks down my cheeks. “I don’t understand Tom.”

“I’m not real.” he said simply. “Not in this world.”

“But you are, you are, you are!”

“Not anymore. Not to you.”

I sobbed. “You are, you are, you are!”

“Only for a while more, Jen. I’m breaking the connection early. So’s I can

say goodbye.”

“You’re leaving me by myself?”

“You’ll be by yourself. But I’m not leaving. I was never here.”

“But you are here! I know you are!” The crying was racking my whole body now.

“Jennie, you have to let me go.”

“No, no I won’t, I won’t!” I sounded so childish to my own ears, but I didn’t care.

“Please. It’ll be easier for both of us.”

“Where’re you going to go Tom?” I asked, a final attempt, though through the whole conversation, though it was short, I knew he was right. I just couldn’t face it.

“I’ll find a new friend.” he said and stood up. “But I have to go. Quickly. Before I disappear.”

He kissed the top of my head again and walked away, “Goodbye” the last word to pass his lips.

*

Mum found me later in pieces in my room. She didn’t ask, but I think she knew what had happened.

But in the tradition of gracious mothers everywhere, she never mentioned Tom again.

*

I apologised to Mary. I know now what a good friend she really is, because she didn’t once say “I told you so.” She just smiled and forgave straight away.

And my life went on, without Tom. In the next few weeks, my memories of him became blurrier, and good laughs I had shared with him, I began to think I had actually shared with Hannah, because I remember blonde hair, or Harry, because I remember his t-shirt I couldn’t read.

And then, that September as the leaves began to turn, Grace announced that her friend was over for tea. A friend none of the rest of us could see or hear.

But I could have sworn I saw the glimpse of a mischievous green eye.