I Was a Teenage Necromancer

Chapter 2-Dead Tired

The alarm went off promptly at seven, and was just as promptly pounded with a fist coming somewhere underneath the tangle of sheets and blankets, making Amber jump. She watched it retreat into the blankets like the tail of a dragon.

"M-Morning." Amber said nervously, eliciting a growl from the bed.

"Do you have any idea what time it is?" Scott grumbled.

"Seven o' clock?"

"No. Bedtime."

"Scott! It's seven, time to get your butt out of bed mister!" his mother called from below. Scott grumbled again.

"How many times must I tell her before I get it into her head that I do not function in the mornings?"

"Maybe it's because of your nocturnal extracurricular activities?" Amber provided, and Scott groaned again.

"I am a night owl doomed to a family of morning people." Reluctantly, he got up and stumbled out the door. "Be right back. Honestly, I don't know whether to pity or envy you for being a ghost. Don't have to sleep, don't have to use the bathroom in the morning..."

Amber paused to consider his words. Was it really better to be a ghost? True, having incorporeal traits could be useful, she supposed. But he didn't know how frustrating it was not to simply be able to touch something. To never be seen or heard, save by a loopy necromancer. Cut off from the rest of the world in a most cruel and decisive way, able to see and hear but unable to actually do anything.

And she had been a ghost for less than two weeks. She shivered; if Scott hadn't offered a way out, Amber was sure she'd go mad within a year. She shook her head. No, it sucked being a ghost. Last night had proved that once again. She had spent the entire night on the floor beside his bed. It was too dark to examine the room, and she didn't want to leave the only person who could perceive her.

However, it was day now. Amber looked around the room, vaguely wondering what a teenage necromancer's personal space looked like. It was almost disappointingly ordinary: a TV in the corner, a bed against the wall, a bookshelf filled to bursting with comics and fantasy novels, a soaking wet bikini model licking her lips seductively from a poster. Nothing that she supposed she wouldn't find in any other fifteen year old boy's room. At that thought, she realized this was the first time she'd been in a guy's room. Alone. With him.

Amber's train of thought was derailed when Scott walked back in, yawning. She jumped and was silently glad she no longer had the ability to blush.

"Find something interesting?" he asked and started getting ready for the day, but paused before taking off his nightshirt. "You, uh, mind?"

"Oh! Sorry!" Amber squeaked and turned to stare determinedly at the wall. "Just...everything's so, well, normal, I guess. I was half expecting black walls, metal posters, and a bunch of candles and animal skeletons or something."

"And precisely why would I have stuff like that? If I had other skeletons, I'd put 'em to use." Scott said, pulling a shirt on. "I'm just a regular guy, 'cept for the y'know, raising the dead thing."

"Yeah, I guess. It just doesn't, I don't know, gel together." Amber confessed. Scott grinned.

"If you're looking for spooky stuff, it's not like my room's totally devoid of all that." He reached into his closet and moved a box against the wall. There was a two foot hole in the back. "I was about seven when my brother and I were fighting one time. Thing is, he slipped on something and made a hole in the drywall when he hit it. He freaked and made me promise to never tell mom or dad. I agreed because I didn't want to get in trouble either, and it seemed like a good place to hide stuff. You know, if I ever wanted to. Used to put odd shaped stones in it, pretended I was guarding magic gems when I was playing. But now I actually have something valuable to store in there."