Cooper's car sped down the small town street, trees whipping past and buildings blurring into black squares. His mother’s consistent switching of gears helped to calm his mind a little, though its effects lessened when they passed a hospital. Everyone knew the majority of ghosts congregated around hospitals, since that was where they died. He was struggling to keep his eyes open, since he wanted to see what this new town had to offer, but he also wanted to avoid locking eyes with any ghosts on the sidewalk. One old man with sunglasses was looking right at him and, judging by the distinct grey color of his skin, he was either dead or about to be.

Shuddering, the young man leaned away from the window. “Mom, can we turn at the—”

A screech. A thump. A scream from his mother and some bystanders.

She’d hit something…or someone.

“Cooper!” A strange, male voice came down from the sky. It was vaguely familiar to Cooper, like a teacher, but it shouldn’t be coming down from the clouds. What was—

“Cooper!” He heard a loud slam, then jerked upright.

He wasn’t sitting in a car anymore. He was on a desk, his eyes stinging from being awoken so suddenly. He must have fallen asleep.

Looking around sheepishly, he found himself inside a small classroom of fifteen students, all high school sophomores like himself. They were staring at him, concerned rather than judgmental. The biggest stare was coming from the tall, lanky man with large glasses and a strangely perfect haircut standing over him. He was the one responsible for the voice from the clouds, as well as the slam, which he’d done by thumping his fist on top of Cooper’s desk.

“Sorry, sir,” Cooper said, leaning back in his chair and attempting to come up with a proper excuse. He could claim he was sleepy because he’d spent the last day unpacking with his mother. They’d just moved into this small town from the big city five days ago. But the reality was that he’d been unable to sleep thanks to a pesky ghost in their apartment kitchen, who had baked cupcakes all through the night. She was a woman in a pink nightgown with bruises and cuts across her face, no doubt from a car accident.

“If you need to have a nap, you can head to the nurse’s office,” the teacher told him, surprising Cooper with his sudden kindness.

“That won’t be necessary, sir.”

“In that case, I’d like to address this essay you handed in.” The teacher held out a handwritten, stapled cluster of three pages. Now Cooper remembered why he’d fallen asleep. The teacher had been giving out personal critiques on their essays and it had been so boring that he’d fallen asleep.

“Do you remember the prompt?” the teacher asked, pulling up a chair. The other students went back to correcting their essays, as instructed.

“Yes. Write a review about a signature dish from Spring Falls.” To be frank, he wasn’t expecting a tiny town in Bane state to even have signature dishes. Compared to the city he came from, Old Bork, the population size here didn’t warrant special foods.

“And you wrote about cupcakes.”

“Yes.”

“…That wasn’t one of the included dishes on the list.”

Cooper allowed a meek chuckle to escape, his nervousness getting to him. “A local told me there was a certain type of cupcake that was specific to Spring Falls.” Specifically, the ghost from last night. “Cucumber flavor.”

A few students snickered. The teacher raised an eyebrow, the sides of his mouth quirking up.

“Cucumber?”

“She said it, not me.”

“Who is she?”

Oh no. “A…neighbor.” Which was technically true.

The teacher didn’t look convinced. He thought Cooper was messing around to avoid putting in any effort or research. To be fair, it was true that he didn’t do any research. He’d been too busy avoiding the other old ghost walking her dog through their apartment’s backyard—

“It’s true,” one of the students interrupted.

Cooper turned toward the person, eager to be defended, but then his growing smile fell when he realized who had spoken up. No one else had reacted to the voice. That should have been his first hint that it wasn’t a human speaking.

Sitting at one of the two empty desks was a cute girl. She had curly, strawberry blonde hair that was on the cusp of being red. She was shorter than him but always attended these classes, so she must be a sophomore too. The only strange thing was that she came to class wearing casual clothes instead of the green and brown school uniform. She was also eating something every time he saw her. Today, she was shoving caramel popcorn into her mouth from a huge bowl resting on her desk.

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If anyone would know about local dishes, it was her. He never failed to find her stuffing her mouth with something. Too bad she was a ghost. No one would believe him if he relayed her knowledge.

“There was a lady who ran a bakery down the street from here,” the girl informed them, her words muffled because she was still eating. “She used to sell cucumber cupcakes, but I heard they were atrocious. I never tried one myself.”

Aha. The ghost in his kitchen must have been the shopkeeper.

Cooper frowned and turned away from the girl. She’d been here since he started classes three days ago and he’d refused to acknowledge her. If you let a ghost know that you could see it, it would follow you around, desperate for attention. The last time he locked eyes with a ghost, it resulted in the person sleeping at the end of his bed for a month straight. He only got rid of it that time by looping the same song over and over again for three days straight, annoying it until it finally went away. Cooper refused to go through that again. The song still got stuck in his head sometimes.

The teacher must have taken Cooper’s hesitation and frown as a sign of nervousness or rebelliousness. Sighing and shoving his glasses further up on his nose, the man handed back the essay along with a fresh piece of paper. “Please try again, properly this time. Our two signature dishes are catfish and chips, alongside almond ice cream.”

Cooper cringed. He hated almonds.

The catfish part made sense, though. Spring Falls rested on a lovely lake that attracted a lot of cottagers. It was why the town was so small yet still managed to survive and fund itself.

“Yes, sir.” Cooper took the papers and crouched as low as he possibly could, embarrassed to fail his first actual assignment. It was such a childish one too. How did you manage to fail when it came to reviewing ice cream?

“Hey.”

Cooper tensed, feeling a cool breath on the back of his neck. The ghost was behind him, leaning over his shoulder and whispering in his ear. Her big brown eyes were focused on his backpack. More specifically, she was staring at the clear lunch box poking out of it.

Ignore her. Don’t react.

“Did you try one of the cucumber cupcakes?” she asked. He heard a crunch between each sentence but, luckily, couldn’t smell the popcorn. The ghosts usually couldn’t touch him, though they’d still give him a chill.

“Was it good?”

Cooper pressed his pencil against the paper and tried to write a few words, but he found himself almost writing the words “Go away” unconsciously. He had to take a moment to collect himself before continuing.

“Can I look at your lunch?” the girl asked politely, thankfully climbing off his back and crouching beside his bag instead.

Cooper held his breath as she reached for the box. She couldn’t move it. He had nothing to worry about.

Her pointer finger tapped the box and he saw it shift a millimeter.

It couldn’t be! If she could touch the box…

Gritting his teeth, Cooper dropped his pencil and reached into his pocket. It was time to bring out his secret weapon!

“Begone, ghost!” he screamed at the girl, then pulled a fistful of table salt out of the little box in his pocket. The girl froze as the salt smacked her in the face, then flew past her, flying out the open window beside him.

Dang it! The ghost was still there, perfectly intact.

“Mr. Lassiter.” One of the students raised his hand. “Cooper’s throwing salt again!”

Cooper glared at the ghost, ignoring the stares of the other kids. He’d been caught tossing salt at a ghost dog on his first day. It had followed him all the way to school and wouldn’t stop barking, so once he reached the entrance, he’d thrown his weapon at it and made it run away. Why didn’t it work on the girl?

Mr. Lassiter approached, then removed his glasses and peered at the floor. After studying it and finding no salt, he grunted. “It went out the window, so I’ll forgive it. Cooper, no more throwing salt. Do it outside.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Also, no shouting in the classroom. Only I’m allowed to do that.”

“Yes, sir.” Cooper resisted the urge to wipe his salty palms off on his shirt. He couldn’t do it while everyone was watching.

“There’s too much of a breeze coming out of this anyway.” The teacher took a moment to slam the window closed, then went back to his spot at the front of the classroom.

It dawned on Cooper, as he watched the window close, that the breeze from outside was probably what made the lunch box move, not the girl.

Now he’d exposed himself to not only the class but the ghost too. She knew he could see her. He’d never be rid of her now!

The teacher went back to instructing the students like nothing happened, while a few of the boys and girls next to Cooper kept watching him, waiting for him to do yet another strange thing. He was beyond embarrassed. He’d hoped his reputation as a weirdo would fall away once he moved to this new town. His mom’s job transfer had seemed like the ideal opportunity to start fresh. Now he’d ruined everything.

Blushing, he shook his head so his blond bangs fell over his face. Then he leaned down, ignoring the ghost and digging his pencil into the paper as he tried to think about almond ice cream and nothing else.

“Look.” The ghost girl leaned down, trying to tap Cooper’s shoulder but sullenly watching it pass through him. “I added some salt to the popcorn. That’s why you threw it, right? I appreciate the help.” Her eyes gleamed as she said it. She knew why he really chucked it at her. She was just teasing him now.

“Go away,” Cooper whispered, not caring if anyone heard him. His reputation had been sullied. There was no redeeming it.

His eyes watered. Now he’d never make any friends, just like last time.

“I’ve decided.” The ghost girl walked to the other side of his desk, then sat down by his side, resting in midair since there wasn’t a real chair to sit on. “I’m gonna sit here from now on.”

Cooper narrowed his eyes. “Go away,” he repeated.

She tilted her head, reminding him of a dog. “Why?”

“Because.”

Now she was smiling, amused by his grumpiness.

“Everyone’ll think I’m a weirdo if I keep talking to you.”

“I think they already do.” She kept grinning cheekily at him, then stuffed three more kernels into her mouth. “Don’t worry. I’ll leave when you make some friends,” she assured him, leaning back in her chair and producing a lollipop from thin air. “You seemed lonely so…”

It was true but he hadn’t realized it was so obvious.

Sighing and setting to work on his essay, he blocked her out. She didn’t bother him again, though she did start eating an almond ice cream cone halfway through his essay. Then she produced an entire catfish and chips meal, which she ate on an invisible table. By the time class ended and he made his escape, leaving her behind, she’d eaten enough for five people. Seeing the food in person had helped him with his project, though he wouldn’t go out of his way to thank her for it.

“Bye, Cooper!” she called after him, waving her fork at him. He didn’t wave back.

She said she’d leave if he made friends. That would have to be his new goal. That, or he’d have to exorcise her somehow. If he couldn’t find a way to send her to the afterlife soon, his chances of forming friendships would dry up completely. There was no time to waste.