Free Grounded by Kate Klise

one hand and a small American flag in the other.
    “Happy Fourth, neighbors,” he said, raising a friendly toast to us with his cup.
    “Same to you,” Mother replied, turning to look in the opposite direction, toward the bike riders two blocks away. “Daralynn, bring a chair down off the porch for Mamaw.”
    “Let me do that,” Uncle Waldo offered, starting toward our porch.
    “Daralynn’s perfectly capable,” Mother said.
    I retrieved the chair, planting it in the grass for Mamaw. She always loved a parade.
    “Here come the baby bicycle riders!” Mamaw cheered.
    A ragtag brigade of fifteen or twenty kids—mostly younger than me—rode their Schwinns in a procession past our house. I sat on the curb and waved mechanically, remembering how much it’d meant to me to see Wayne Junior and his friends waving when I rode in the parade.
    After the bicyclists came the local Girl Scout troop, led by Miss Jackie Harris. They were followed by the Boy Scouts ( BE PREPARED, DIGGINSVILLE, their banner ominously commanded), the Future Farmers of America, the 4-H’ers, the American Legion, and The Summer Sunset Retirement Home for Distinguished Gentlemen. These were Aunt Josie’s five housemates, shuffling along at a glacial pace with their banner held in front of them. Every few steps, one of the men mustered the energy to wave. I waved back, wondering why Aunt Josie wasn’t marching with her gentlemen like she usually did.
    The antique cars and trucks were next. All the usual suspects were in attendance: Norm Olsen, the mechanic, in the souped-up Mustang he drove once a year. Marvin Kinser from the hardware store in his pickup truck with the chicken-wire Liberty Bell in the bed along with a tape recorder playing a warbled rendition of “It’s a Grand Old Flag.” And as always, Avis Brown in her shiny white Oldsmobile, throwing tiny packages of red and black licorice with the words WHAT’S BLACK AND WHITE AND READ ALL OVER? THE DIGGINSVILLE DAILY QUILL! printed on the front.
    I was surprised to see Clem’s yellow convertible behind Avis. He was wearing a jaunty plaid cap andthrowing great gobs of saltwater taffy. Aunt Josie pranced alongside the car, passing out leaflets.
    I didn’t dare try to catch any of Clem’s taffy—not with Mother standing twelve inches away. But I couldn’t resist seeing what Aunt Josie was up to. When she got close, I stood up and held out my hand.
    “Clem says you’re the one who gave him the idea for this,” Aunt Josie said to me in a stage whisper. She was crackling with energy as she handed me a leaflet. I read the words in one nervous gulp.

    As soon as Aunt Josie had passed, Mother grabbed the paper from my hands and read it.
    “A parade of fools is what this is,” Mother said, crumpling the leaflet and stuffing it back in my hand. She turned her back on the parade. “Come on, Mamaw. We’re going.”
    “Can I get an ice-cream cone?” I asked cautiously. The tradition in Digginsville was that after the parade, everyone gathered at the Dig In Diner for free ice cream. Mother was mad, but she’d let me go fishing by myself. I was hoping maybe she was letting up a bit on my leash.
    “Get one and come right home,” Mother commanded.
    “Thanks!”
    I took the alley and ran down to the Dig In Diner, beating most of the parade by several blocks. But news of the horse and carriage had already reached the diner.
    “Best idea I’ve heard in years,” Mrs. Eliza Ravinwoods was saying when I walked in the door. “With a horse and carriage, we’ll be the envy of the Ozarks. I’m in for fifty dollars.”
    Mr. Forest Swisher agreed. “Just think how nice a carriage would be for our senior citizens,” he said. “They’ll be able to do their own grocery shopping.And I won’t have to hire high school boys to deliver groceries. This carriage could save me a bundle. I’m gonna give that Clem fella a hundred dollars.”
    I thought of Wayne Junior, and how he was planning to buy a