Uncle Vampire by Cynthia D. Grant

about Bradley. Or Curtis. Maybe there’re two of him, like us. We could double-date. Honey wouldn’t like that. She prefers to keep her friends and my friends separate.
    Trying to be objective, I watched Honey dress, thinking: Who is that girl? What would a stranger see?
    She could be a model. A magazine cover girl. The all-American fashion doll: blue eyes, red lips, blond hair. She hates her nose; she thinks it spoils her looks. She covered it with her hand and stared into the mirror.
    I said, “You could walk around like that all night.” She stuck out her tongue at me.
    She looks shorter than I do, by an inch or two. Honey projects petiteness. Her gown is made of dark blue velvet. It’s a simple dress, sweeping to the floor, baring her shoulders and back. And front.
    I said: “You’ll fall out of that dress.” I would never wear a strapless, my breasts served up. Please help yourself.
    â€œAll the girls are wearing them. Even Nancy,” Honey said. She’s double-dating with Nancy and Bobby Sloane.
    Honey’s not sorry that I won’t be attending. She’s glad that I’m staying home. She says I’m too critical.
    â€œYou look beautiful,” I said when she was finally ready.
    She made an awful face in the mirror. Honey craves compliments but fears they’re a trick. If she said, “Gee, thanks,” you might scream, “Just kidding!”
    She has no idea why people think she’s pretty.
    Curtis Bradley arrived, shockingly handsome in his tux. If he and Honey get married someday, they will have the world’s most gorgeous children.
    He had an orchid for Honey. She wore it in her hair; there wasn’t room on the front of her dress. Bradley talked to Papa. Uncle Toddy took pictures. Richie went out, letting the front door bang. Before he left, he kissed my cheek.
    There’s something important that I’m trying to remember. I can’t hold my mind in place. It keeps slipping away. What was I saying? What is it that I mustn’t forget? I remember that I must remember something, but it scuttles out of sight when I turn my head, darting into darkness, like mice. There are so many places to hide in this house, so many holes and crevices. I’ve told Papa about the mice. We could get a cat. But Mama says cats are dirty. Uncle Toddy put out poison.
    I’m supposed to be working on a paper for English. It’s due very soon. Or was it due last week? Once things start unraveling, it’s hard to stop them, like that sweater I had; I pulled one loose loop and it all came undone, a pile of yarn. So it’s important to fix things when they first go wrong. Before they have a chance to completely break down.
    That is what I’m trying to remember. That is what I must not forget. I have got to pay attention. I keep writing things down here. So I won’t let myself forget to remember. And if I die, someone will know what happened.
    â€œOh, please!” Honey would say. “Must we be so dramatic?” She’d think it was a joke. Or tear this up. She’d say: “Don’t put your craziness in writing. You might as well hold up a sign that says: I’m nuts !”
    Honey doesn’t know about this journal.
    I can picture her at the homecoming dance. Oh, she is having such a fabulous time, surrounded by her friends. They’re talking and laughing, and Bradley has his arm around her waist; not tight. Just right. The band is playing her favorite songs, as if the musicians were reading her mind.
    The cafeteria is so dark you can’t see where you are; it’s an elegant ballroom, in a castle in France. And wouldn’t you know it! Curtis and Honey are chosen as the king and queen of the homecoming dance!
    They’re up on the stage wearing golden crowns, and Honey is holding an armful of roses. It’s so perfect, you know, because they’re the perfect couple; she’s the prettiest cheerleader,