Somebody Everybody Listens To Read Online Free

hangnail. The $514.76 number churned in my head again. It was all I had. Now it was all I was gonna have, at least for a while. And last night, the roof leaked—there was the tiniest brown stain on my ceiling this morning when I woke up. It was only a matter of time before somebody’d have to pay to fix it.

charlie daniels
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    BORN: October 28, 1936; Wilmington, North Carolina
    JOB: Inspector at the Taylor Colquitt Creosoting Company.
    BIG BREAK: Epic Records picks up “Jaguar” (a Charlie Daniels Band instrumental) for national distribution, Fort Worth, Texas, 1959.
    LIFE EVENTS: While still in high school and building the set for the senior play, Daniels cut off his right-hand ring finger; Daniels is proficient on guitar, mandolin, fiddle, and banjo, but even with only half his ring finger, he can pick chords just fine.
    CHAPTER THREE

    i saw the light
    IT WAS SURE TO BE MY DAY OF RECKONING. Appropriate, I guess, since it was Sunday. On Friday I had stayed down at the river then come home at the usual time. Mama didn’t suspect a thing. And Saturday is my day off, so it was normal for me to sleep late and eat strawberry Pop-Tarts at noon. But today at church somebody would say something about my little spatula episode. Like the song says, word gets around in a small, small town , and as I adjusted my tired blue A-line skirt and buttoned the sweat-stained white blouse, I tried to figure out how I’d respond.
    â€œY’all come on! We’re gonna be late!” Mama called, and hurried out the front door. Within seconds she was in the car and laying on the horn. My stomach lurched, and I could hear Daddy cursing under his breath down the hall.
    â€œMornin’, Ree Ree,” he said as I emerged from my bedroom.
    â€œMorning, Daddy,” I replied.
    Daddy drove. Mama fussed about Daddy’s driving. And I stared out the window and tried not to notice the TEAM MEMBER WANTED sign on the Taco Bell marquee.
    It wasn’t until we got out of the car and headed up the front steps of the Starling Methodist Church that I noticed Mama, really noticed her. Her lips were bright red and her hair was twisted up into an elegant French knot. She wore a Fashion Bug wrap dress that accentuated her perfect figure and a pair of rhinestone hoop earrings I’d never seen before. Of the three of us, Mama is the only one who ever seems to have anything new, and at times I wonder if she’s giving herself a five-finger discount over at the Dollar King.
    Mama dragged Daddy toward the front, but I slipped into the back pew. If you sit toward the front, you get caught in church traffic—a bunch of chatty old women who ask lots of questions about your personal life and clog up the aisle with their walkers and oxygen tanks. Cranky old Mr. Shackleford came in late and slid into the space next to me, although I didn’t mind. He was only cranky on the surface; underneath he was kindhearted, and also a good tipper.
    All through the sermon, I stared four rows ahead at the back of Tercell Blount’s big hair. She sat in the pew with her parents and Bobby McGee (after his granddaddy, not the song), and I couldn’t help but feel jealous. As far as I could tell, she had everything: more clothes than one girl could possibly wear, a nice car, and any kind of future she wanted. The irony was she’d never worked a day in her life. Mr. Blount runs a successful trucking business, and Mrs. Blount sells riverfront real estate. The Blounts have plenty of money, a fact Tercell always manages to brag about just when the electric company is threatening to shut off our lights again or our phone number has that embarrassing “This number has been temporarily disconnected” recording.
    After a lengthy sermon on the miracle of Lazarus, Tercell and her mama clicked toward the altar to sing what I prayed would be just one hymn. Mrs. James, the preacher’s elderly mother, twisted around in her seat and