Author's note: I know that this chapter isn't as strong as the first, so please let me know your thoughts on it. Also, there is a chance that I might not be able to update next week. I hope that I can, but I just wanted to warn you in case I can't. Hope you enjoy the chapter.

-KeepHoping

Chapter 2

"Autumn, only you would get here an hour early," I muttered to myself as I parked the car. I turned the car off and took a long look at the building I had driven to. I still couldn't believe that I was going to the Santa Barbara Culinary Institute. Today was my first day. The first step towards my lifelong goal of owning a bakery. I took a deep breath as I got out of the car. It was a good thing that I had thought to leave a book in the trunk of my car in case I had time to kill.

As I was rummaging through the trunk of my car, also known as the black hole, a motorcycle pulled in next to my car. I failed horribly at hiding my smirk at the young man driving. Although in my defense, it's not often you see a man in a chef's uniform on a motorcycle.

"Actually, you'll be seeing me every day," the driver said after taking off his helmet. He wasn't even trying to hide his grin. "That is what you were thinking, right?" he inquired innocently. "That I'm not a normal sight."

"Can you blame me?" I responded, drawing a chuckle from the man who was apparently my classmate. He looked to be about a year older than me, around eighteen years old. He had brown hair and eyes and was approximately six feet tall, nearly a foot taller than my petite five-foot frame.

"I don't suppose there was any pineapple in whatever you baked this morning?" he asked. I kept my face neutral as I shook my head. "Oh, right. It was pumpkin. I was close though, they both start with the letter P." Okay, now I was impressed. "Let me guess, pie?" If possible, his grin grew even larger.

"Mini tarts, actually." I answered, smirking. "But they were mini pumpkin pie tarts."

"Well, did you bring any of these mini pumpkin pie tarts, Fall?" He put his hand to his temple. "No. That's not right. Autumn. Did you bring any mini pumpkin pie tarts, Autumn?" I kept the smile on my face.

"Yes, would you like one?" I offered, totally ignoring his use of my name. For the first time since he got off his motorcycle, he looked surprised.

"Absolutely. By the way, are you insomniac or do you just get up crazy early in the A.M. every morning to bake?" he asked as I handed him the container of tarts. "Sorry if that was inappropriate, but the spirits are sensing that you haven't been getting enough sleep."

"Spirits?" I asked with obvious skepticism.

"Yeah. Spirits. See, I'm psychic." he replied before eating a tart.

"No, you're not." I stated matter-of-factly.

"Well how else do you explain how I knew all that?" he questioned, obviously expecting me to be unable to answer.

"You knew I baked something because I have pastry dough under my finger nails. You could tell it had pumpkin in it because I accidentally smeared some on my sleeve. I have an envelope in my trunk addressed to Autumn." I continued, pointing the letter out. "I know how exhausted I look. And to answer your question, I am both insomniac and an early morning baker."

"Huh, well apparently I didn't even need the spirits to figure that stuff out. These are delicious." he said as he grabbed a fourth tart out of the container.

"How about I take a turn being psychic?"

He nodded his assent. "Go right ahead. But I have to warn you, the spirits aren't very helpful to nonbelievers."

I brought my hand to my temple like he had earlier. "I sense that you have at least two cats. Wait, no. They aren't yours. They belong to someone else in your household. In fact, you don't like them, but they like you. You're an only child named… Steve. Steve Spencer."

"Wrong! My name's Ethan Anderson." he corrected almost desperately.

"Then why does your motorcycle say Steve Spencer?" I asked pointing to the side of the motorcycle, where the words were painted. He paled when he saw them, then started looking on the ground nearby.

"Because I bought it used. I had a sticker covering it." he explained quickly. "Great! It's gone. What am I gonna do now?" he sighed heavily.

"I have a decal in the black hole, if you want it." I offered.

"I suppose you mean the disaster area that is your trunk?" he joked with a tense smile.

"Yep." I replied before pulling out a decal that said, 'I'm a bookworm and proud of it'. "You can have it on one condition: you tell me why you're using an alias and if it pertains to your dad's psychic detective agency."

"First of all, this sticker is just sad and embarrassing. Second of all—Second—Secondly—Next, yes, I'm here on a case. You can't tell anyone." he said before sticking the decal on over the name. "We have reason to believe that one of the instructors here is a serial killer."

"A serial killer? And your dad is okay with you putting yourself in danger by coming here?" I asked in shock.

"No, there are four suspects. My dad gave me the least likely option, but there's still a chance that he might be the bad guy."

"Can you even cook?" I wondered aloud.

"Yes! Maybe. A little. But this a school! They're supposed to teach, if you already knew everything you wouldn't be here." he defended himself.

"They probably expect you to know the basics. Just please tell me you aren't one of those idiots who can't even boil water properly." I joked with a smile.

"That was one time!"