The Right Kind of Wrong by Jade Eby Page B

bags sit next to piles of books, toys and decorations.  
    I groan. "This is going to take forever. I forgot how much shit is up here."  
    Vince circles the room, camera in hand while I focus on where my grandfather's army papers might be.  
    "Whoa! Are these real?" Vince stands next to a huge oak gun case, the glass tinged with layers of dust.  
    "No, they're locked in this creeptastic attic because they're fake."  
    "Smart ass."  
    I chuckle. "I think my grandfather brought a couple of those back from the war." I try to open the door, but it doesn't budge. "I don't know where the key is. He was always pretty safe about that stuff. I'll ask Grandma if she knows where it is later."  
    Vince's attention is drawn elsewhere and while he thumbs through old comic books, I rack my brain. If I were a box of army stuff, where would I be? My eyes fall on the closet.  
    "Vince, I bet the box of stuff is in the closet."
    He raises his eyebrows. "Um. Okay?"
    "That's was your cue to say, 'Sure, I'll go in the creepy looking closet and look for it.'"  
    "Oh, right. Because, I'm so good at reading your mind." But he opens the closet door, disturbing a cloud of dust. Once it clears, he looks inside. "This isn't a closet. It's like a hidden room. Are you sure there aren't any dead bodies up here?"
    I roll my eyes. "Just keep going. There should be a box with all of his papers in it. I remember seeing it when I was younger."
    He shifts things around, steps inside and moves toward the back of the closet until the unmistakable crack and crunch of glass stops him. "Shit!"
    "Are you okay?" I ask in the darkness.  
    "I'm fine. Can you find me a flashlight or something?"
    I glance around the room. My grandfather's lantern is wedged between a stack of books. I mess with the knobs until the glass casts a muted amber glow into the darkness.  
    "Here." I shove the light into the closet, hoping to find Vince's hand.  
    "Thanks. Don't come in, I'm gonna see what I stepped on." He brings the lantern to his feet. Seconds later, he holds up a crushed plastic box. "Christmas bulbs. Hope they weren't valuable."
    I don't know if Grandma puts up the Christmas tree anymore, but she won't be happy about this. "Awesome. Can you see anything else in there?"
    He's quiet while he moves the lantern around the closet. "I think I found something. Will you hold the lantern? I need to pull this thing out." He waits until I'm close enough to take the lantern and then wiggles the sides of a large container. It finally slides out of its place, sending another cloud of dust into his face. "Here, trade me the lantern for the box."
    I take the container and set it in the middle of the room. Yes. This is it. Snippets of memory come back. My grandfather pulling out his medals. My grandfather placing a newspaper clipping inside. Vince stumbles out of the closet, his shirt covered in cobwebs, dust and God knows what else. He brushes himself off. "Fucking creepy."  
    His discomfort makes me smile.  
    "You okay?" I wipe the layers of grime off of the box. Indented sets of initials appear and I trace over them with my finger.  
    "I'm fine. Is that what you were looking for?"
    "This is it." My breath catches in my throat. Now that I have it, I'm not sure I want to open it.
    "You going to open it or stare at it all day?"
    I rest my hand on the lid. "I can't."  
    "What do you mean you can't?"
    I sigh. "You're gonna have to do it. I just can't."
    Vince walks over and his hand covers mine. He guides my hand over the lid of the box and flips it up. Just like that. His hand lingers on mine for a minute longer than I expect before he smiles. "There. That wasn't too hard, was it?"
    I shake my head and pull out the beige fabric that drapes the top. Vince's camera is out and I unfold the fabric until it takes the shape of a very wrinkly uniform. I smile and hold it up so Vince can zoom in with the camera. "I told you this was it. Look at how old this uniform is." I bring it to my