Free The Right Kind of Wrong by Jade Eby

knock on my door and Vince opens it and pokes his head in. "Can I come in?"
    "Yeah."
    He sits on the edge of the bed and looks at me. "Whatcha doing?"
    I turn the album toward him. "Looking at these. Check out these outfits."
    He flips through a few pages and then points to a picture of a woman with boxy glasses holding a giant cigarette. "Holy shit. Look at that cigarette. It's bigger than a camping lighter. These are crazy."
    I laugh because I hadn't even noticed the abnormally large cigarette. "That's my Great Aunt Wendy. One guess how she died?"
    "Couldn't have been lung cancer could it?"
    "Ding, ding! We have a winner."
    "You're horrible. Think about what your sweet Aunt Wendy would say right now."
    I shrug. "According to Grandpa, she wouldn't say anything. Had to have her voice box removed. That puppy was soaked in tar."  
    Vince looks at me with a funny expression. "Kara Pierce, I do believe that was a joke. When did you get funny?"  
    I slug him in the arm. "Since always. You were just so concerned with dropping the ball on projects you never got a chance to find out." I bite my lip the minute my head catches up with my mouth. This is the kind of statement that only works with the old version of Vince. He drops his eyes and rubs a spot of the comforter with his thumb.  
    "Why didn't you tell me?"
    He looks at me and I don't know how it's possible for his eyes to get any bluer—but they do. "Jesus, Kara. I was fucked up. Like, seriously screwed up. I should have talked to Professor Jenkins or a counselor or something but I didn't want to leave you hanging. My buddy Jason gave me the number of a guy who writes essays for people. So, I just paid this guy to do it. Gave him the notes, figured he would do a better job than I ever could anyway."
    My mouth falls open and I swear my heart stops for a minute. "Wait. So you didn't even write it?"
    Vince shakes his head. "No, I was dealing with so much shit, I couldn't even pick up one of my cameras, let alone do some stupid ass project."
    "I don't get it?"  
    Vince sighs. "Turns out the guy I paid had done the same project for Jenkins class the previous semester. He adapted that one, so it was pretty much identical. No wonder Jenkins caught on so quickly."
      "I still don't understand why you didn't tell me. I would have done your part if you would've told me what was going on."
    He shakes his head. "I know, I know. Trust me, I've gone over this a hundred times."
    I let out a long sigh and grab the photo album off the bed. I stick it in the first drawer of my grandfather's dresser. "This is hard for me to say since I've spent so long hating you, but I forgive you. I forgive you for all of it."
    His eyes flicker and his body goes rigid. His neck muscles tighten. He stands and walks toward the door. "I don't need your forgiveness or your pity. I was tired of pretending to be the asshole you think I am. Besides, you should be apologizing to me. While my parents were lying dead in a ditch, I was trying to figure out how to do your part of the project for you." He slams the door behind him.
    I stare at it, every nerve ending in my body shaking. I'm a terrible person and Vince knows it. If I were a superstitious person, I'd say everything is coming full circle. I left my grandfather, let Vince take over my portion of the project and quit my internship. Karma really is a bitch.  
    I could sit in my room and cry but that won't get me anywhere. I head downstairs to finish the dishes. Moonlight illuminates the room and glints off the silver sink. It's empty. The dishes are drying in the rack next to the sink. I shake my head. I told her not to do them.  
    "Vince did them." I turn around and Grandma is shuffling into the kitchen. She flicks on the light and plops down in a chair.  
    "Of course he did," I mumble.
    "He's not as bad as you made him out to be."
    "That's debatable. Just because he lost his parents doesn't excuse what he did."
    My grandmother tisks. "Kara Mae, you