My gaze lands on the gaping gap in the armoire doors. A gap I can’t stop staring at—it seems to suck me in.
Striding over, I tear the doors open, yanking the clothes apart, almost expecting something to jump out at me. Of course, there’s nothing.
I’m alone.
Gwen swipes a paper napkin across her mouth before crumpling it up and tossing it on the coffee table. Meanwhile, my glazed doughnut remains untouched.
She suggested a trip to the local bakery after class, so here we are, seated on the saggy couches nestled next to a large bookshelf near the back. An unlit fireplace to our left has more stacked books on top, and if I were to describe the scent here, I’d say it smells of old books, coffee, and the fresh batch of chocolate chip cookies that were brought out when we arrived.
On the couch across from me, Benny inhales his third macaroon.
Lily bites down on ice and puts her glass of fizzy Coke on the table. “You’ll get a sugar-induced coma soon.”
Benny simply shrugs, unbothered.
Beside me, Gwen eases back and jerks her chin at me. “So what’s the house like? Have you noticed anything supernatural yet?”
“Give her a chance to eat her doughnut before you start your interrogation,” says Brittany on my other side, popping her pink bubblegum that matches her hair.
Aron lies half-slouched on the couch with one arm behind his head and a lazy smile on his lips. His other hand rests on his jeans-clad thigh as he taps his thumb to an imaginary beat. That is one thing I’ve noticed about him lately: outwardly, he’s the sloth in the group. But if you look closely, you’ll notice he’s never still. He’s always moving, whether he’s tapping his foot or drumming a beat with his fingers.
“So?” Gwen pushes. “Have you seen ghosts yet?”
Benny stands up and walks to the counter at the front of the bakery.
“Don’t let him buy any more macaroons,” Lily calls out to the elderly woman behind the cash register, and Aron clamps a hand over her mouth.
“Well? Don’t hold out on us?” Gwen nudges me with her elbow.
As I lift the doughnut from the crackling wax paper and take a bite, a soft moan escapes my lips.
“It beats the doughnuts in the city, doesn’t it?” Brittany asks.
Nodding, I swallow it down.
The doughnuts back home are nice, don’t get me wrong, but this is a taste of heaven.
Sugary glazing coats my lips, so I reach for a paper napkin and wipe my mouth clean. I shake my head, addressing Gwen. “No, I haven’t seen any ghosts.”
“Nothing out of the ordinary?”
“No,” I lie.
At least, I don’t think I have. The woman in the window—the same woman from the photograph that fell off the wall—was a figment of my imagination. Ghosts aren’t real.
“Nothing at all?” She sounds disappointed.
“I still think we should do a séance,” Brittany says, chewing her gum like her life depends on it while she twirls a strand of pink hair around her finger.
“Not this again,” Lily complains, and Aron slams his hand over her mouth.
“I’m with Brittany. We should do it.”
Lily shoves his hand away as Benny returns with more macaroons. “Why? What good could come from it?”
“Do you believe in demons?” he asks her.
“No, of course I don’t.”
