Free Necromancer: A Novella by Lish McBride

 
     
    Death and Waffles: A Story
    by Lish McBride
     
     
    The sharp rapping of knuckles on my window pane woke me up. I’d like to say the noise surprised me, but Ashley had been showing up a lot lately. I rolled out of bed and walked over to the window.
    “Matt,” she hissed, teeth flashing in a fierce and happy way, “open up.”
    I stopped in front of the window, arms crossed. “Does it matter if I do?”
    “It shows you’ve got some manners, jerk-wad.”
    I sighed and flipped the latch so she could open the window and crawl in. She seized me in a hug the instant her feet hit my floor. Ash had always been affectionate to the point of exuberance. At least, she’d always been that way toward me. She said my family didn’t hug enough.
    “C’mon, get your coat on,” she said after she’d let go of me and collapsed onto my bed. “And ditch the pj’s.”
    I pulled some jeans on over my boxers and searched around in my drawer for a clean sweatshirt. The weather hadn’t turned to snow this week, but that didn’t keep the cold from hanging around. I finally grabbed my gray sweatshirt off the floor, deciding it was more clean than filthy.
    “Hurry up, blondie,” she said. Ash swung her feet back and forth, saddle shoes flashing as they caught the moonlight.
    “Do I even want to know where we’re going?”
    “Probably not. But I want waffles and fries, and you’re my ticket to a night free of harassment. For some reason, a little girl alone in a diner at night is questioned.”
    “Good to know I’m useful.”
    Ash shrugged, an easy roll of shoulders. Her shrugs had always been graceful. Mine looked more like shoulder spasms.
    I pulled on my hiking boots and grabbed my keys off my nightstand.
    “Finally,” she said.
    “Aren’t you forgetting something?” I jerked my chin toward her getup. Tonight, Ashley wore the tartan skirt, white button-up, and sweater of some Catholic school. I knew for a fact that she’d never once set foot in any private school, Catholic or otherwise.
    She cocked her head to the side and raised one sable brow. “Like what?”
    “Jacket,” I said.
    “Oh come on, Matt. It’s not like I get cold.”
    “You wanna blend, right?”
    She huffed out a dramatic sigh and snapped her fingers. Ash became instantly wrapped in a large parka. She was nothing if not practical.
    I looked at her dark pigtails, each one tied with shiny red ribbon. “What, no hat?”
    “Don’t push it.”
    “Fine,” I said, walking softly through the hallway even though I knew my parents wouldn’t wake up. They’d have to be home for that. Ash didn’t bother trying to be quiet. In fact, she skipped down the hall.
    “Mom at a conference?”
    “Yeah,” I said, “New York, I think. I forget exactly.”
    “Where’s daddy dearest?”
    “Your guess is as good as mine.”
    My dad had stopped taking interest in me as soon as he figured out I wouldn’t be following in his footsteps in pretty much any way. Not in his love for baseball, not in his vocation as an architect, and certainly not in his frequent skirt-chasing. I guess my ability to see women as people and not disposable sort of killed any last chance we had. Pity.
    By the time he realized my savings fund was for a new camera and not a sweet sixteen hot rod of some sort, I knew we’d never really understand each other. I cared more about taking pictures than cruising. To me, cars were a method to get from point A to point B, period. Dad just shook his head and muttered, a little disgusted. Mom bought me the Toyota so I could get to school when she was away and ignored the rest.
    I unlocked the front door and waved Ash through. “And what’s with the snapping thing? Don’t you think that’s just a little cheesy in a sort of I Dream of Genie way?”
    “She nodded her head.”
    “Fine, Bewitched then.”
    “She twitched her nose. Besides, I’m not a witch.”
    “I know,” I said, “but don’t you sometimes wish you were?”
    Ash