Free Born Under a Lucky Moon by Dana Precious

night before, lying in my Raggedy Ann sleeping bag in my tent. The next day, we all stood in a circle around the flagpole. The troop leader looked at me expectantly. And—I forgot. Absolutely could not remember the first words to save my life. I recited them silently to myself for reassurance, “On my honor, I will try to serve God and my country . . .”
    â€œJeannie.” Mom was talking to me.
    â€œHuh?”
    â€œChuck just said he’s a runner.”
    â€œOh.” What was I supposed to say? That I was a runner in high school? Did this mean we had a deep connection?
    â€œI run long distance for the army.”
    â€œWhy? Is it training for combat or something?”
    â€œNo. It’s for medals. Competition between units.” He stuck a fist in the air and belted out, “Hoorah B Company!” The lunch crowd paused and stared in our direction to see what was going on.
    â€œChuck, sweetie, maybe not in here,” Lucy said. She turned to us. “He’s very good. He’s won almost every event. It’s a big deal in the army.”
    Sammie was surprisingly silent through all of this. Looking at her, I saw something like worry, mixed with compassion, on her face. She reached across the table and squeezed Lucy’s hand. “It’s nice to have you home.” They exchanged long smiles. Lucy knew exactly what we were all thinking. “Now give me your hat. It’ll look great on me.”
    Lucy took off her hat and handed it to her. “I have to have it back. It’s against regulations for a civilian to wear it.”
    â€œIf I see a general I promise to hide,” Sammie assured her. We finished the “biggest sourdough sandwiches on the coast of Lake Michigan” and drove the last few blocks home. As Mom had feared, Dad was out back with a gigantic tent sprawled on the ground. He got up and wiped his hands on his plaid pants before shaking hands with Chuck. He gave Lucy a big hug.
    â€œChuck, I sure could use some help out here. The crew left the tent and said they’d be back, but that was hours ago. On top of that, I’ve got a gopher problem. But Pete next door said this would take care of them.” He held out a handful of M-80s, which anybody north or south of Tennessee could tell you are big old firecrackers. The kind that blow mailboxes off their posts. The kind they run commercials about around the Fourth of July, showing kids with bandaged eyes and hands. We left Chuck out back with Dad so they could bond over explosives and went into the kitchen. Lucy sighed and sat down at the table. Mom hugged her and stroked her hair. “My little Velvet.” However, it said PRIVATE THOMPSON on her name tag, which Sammie asked if she could have for an art project. Lucy took it off and handed it to her.
    â€œWhere is everybody?” she finally asked.
    â€œDad said Grandma is upstairs napping and Elizabeth will be over in a bit. Evan is getting ready for the rehearsal dinner. Which is”—Mom checked her watch—“Lord, in just a few hours. Do you know what you’re wearing?” she asked.
    â€œYes. I just need to shower.”
    Thank God Elizabeth isn’t here yet, I thought. She had the shower schedule with her and I didn’t know if we could handle that just yet. Although the house was fairly big, for some reason we had only one full bathroom. When we were growing up, all five of us women would squeeze into the bathroom at once, four of us doing our makeup and blow-drying our hair and doing our business while one of us showered. Then we would bitch at the person who was showering because she was fogging up the mirror. I don’t recall Dad or Evan ever actually getting their turn in the bathroom, although I’m sure they must have, as they didn’t pee out by the garage. I hoped.
    We all prayed for a second bathroom, but Mom enlarged the kitchen instead. It had been a “one-butt