A. Gardner - Poppy Peters 01 - Southern Peach Pie and A Dead Guy by A. Gardner Page A

for leaving my socks on the floor."
    "I'm sure you're incredibly messy, Cole. I don't blame her."
    "Oh, I see," he jokes. "Take her side."
    I laugh and lick a bit of chocolate from my pastry. Why can't every class feel like this? Calm. Comfortable. Easy. Or maybe it's having Cole around that helps me relax?
    "Well, at least all that time back in my old room will give me some time to do some serious thinking," I say quietly.
    "Quit second guessing yourself." Cole notices my frustration and shakes his head. "You deserve to be here just as much as anyone else."
    "If only I was good enough to come up with my own line of gourmet cake mixes," I joke.
    Cole chuckles and tosses some flour at me. It lands in my lap. I laugh and wipe the flour stain from my jeans, catching a glimpse at the time. I quickly realize that I'm late for my date with Jeff.
    "What's the matter?"
    "I've got to go," I say. "I have a date with Jeff, remember?"
    "You don't sound too excited."
    "Oh," I huff. "You were probably right when you said I don't have time to date. Honestly, I suck in the relationship department anyway. Oh, well. What harm can one date do?"
    Cole looks down at some flour that spilled on the floor. He kneels to wipe it up when a loud crash makes him jerk back to his feet. He glares at me as if hoping I had made the mysterious noise. I shake my head. My torso is frozen. I start having flashbacks of the night I was here all alone and kind of drunk.
    Okay, I was completely drunk. But it had been a really tough first day.
    "It's happening again," I mutter, covering my ears.
    "What was that?" Cole stands up. His eyes are wide, and his fists are clenched. "I didn't hear anyone else come in. Did you?" He inches towards the hall.
    "Stop," I blurt out. "You don't go searching for the thing making the freaky sounds." I point my finger at him. "Don't you watch horror films?"
    "This isn't a horror movie, Poppy. It's a cooking school in a quiet town in Georgia. Nothing like that ever happens here."
    "You don't know that," I whisper.
    Another bang makes us both jump, but Cole opens the door leading into the hallway and begins looking for the source. My chest is pounding so hard that I feel like everyone on campus can hear it. I follow Cole with a worried look on my face. My gut tells me that this isn't a good idea.
    "Shhh," he says, stopping outside one of the student kitchens. "I think it came from in there."
    Through the tiny window on the door, I can't see a thing. The kitchen is pitch black.
    "No one is in there," I point out.
    "Someone has to be."
    "Yeah," I gulp. "The ghost of pastries past." I grab his hand, hoping it will force him to leave before I have a panic attack and faint.
    "But—"
    "You heard what that guy Steve said when we first started," I mutter. "It's the ghost of Old Man Thomas." I glance around at the darkened hallway. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up when I mention the ghost story out loud.
    "There's no such thing as ghosts." Cole says.
    "Oh, yeah?" I retort. "Are you sure about that, because I've heard him banging around in there before. Now let's—"
    "You've heard this noise before?" Cole asks. "When?"
    "Yeah." I pull his hand again, but he's as solid as a rock. "I told you about it, remember? Our first night here?"
    "That doesn't count," he argues. "You were tipsy."
    My eyes go wide.
    "Really? You want to debate this now ?" I try dragging him towards the exit, but he won't budge. "Come on."
    "Hold on," he argues. "Just let me—" The two of us hear the noise again. This time it's closer, and it startles me so much that I accidentally let out a yelp. The noise stops. All I hear is the sound of Cole breathing.
    Cole glances at me before he carefully looks through the small window on the door again. I curiously take another peek too. I still don't see any light. Inside the room there's nothing but shadows.
    One of the shadows looks as if it is moving. It creeps slowly towards us like a snake slithering to its prey. I gulp