A Thousand Never Evers Read Online Free

blooming, things keep on.
    After we get to the big house, we walk up the side steps, only to find the servants’ door already unlocked. That’s when I get a bad ache in my chest. For as long as I can remember, Uncle Bump has unlocked these doors, raised the curtains, and given servants their orders, but now a little lawyer’s taken charge, and I can’t help but feel my uncle’s been thrown out like trash.
    Inside the big house, there’s no smell of roast beef or sweet potato pie. The air is empty and stale. Elmira clings to the kitchen sink. But Uncle Bump steps into the dining room. I’m about to follow him in there, when I spot the sheriff and the mayor sitting at the oak table. The sheriff’s arms are folded across his giant body, but his head is small, so it looks like God mixed up the parts. As for the mayor, he wears a stiff smile on his face, so it looks like his lips are curtains tied up at the corners with ribbons. No doubt both the sheriff and the mayor have been tossing in their nightclothes, because rumors are flying that Old Man Adams left his house and land to one of them. And everyone knows that whoever it is, he’ll be a very rich man.
    Now I plant myself in the doorway between the kitchen and the dining room. I watch the little lawyer strut into the dining room from the hallway. He sets his black suitcase on the table. Then he unlatches the suitcase, takes out a pile of paper, and reads aloud like he’s mumbling instructions for how to build a scrubboard, like nothing could possibly be duller.
    But you can bet my ears, they perk right up when he reads out Uncle Bump’s gift: “‘I bequeath my gold pocket watch to my head servant, Bump Dawson.’”
    The lawyer removes a small felt bag from his suitcase.
    As Uncle Bump crosses the room to pick up the pocket watch, the sheriff mutters, “What kind of name is ‘Bump’?”
    The mayor guffaws.
    My cheeks burn. To hear them poke fun at a man kind and patient as Uncle Bump makes me want to hurl them into a bucket of dirty mop water. If they knew Uncle Bump’s friends named him for the bumpy muscles in his arms, they’d both hush up quicker than a dog can lick a dish.
    But Uncle Bump walks to the lawyer as if he’s heard nothing and slips the sack into his pant’s pocket.
    Then the little lawyer reads, “‘To Elmira Grady, my cook, I leave my Dutch oven.’”
    Elmira throws her hands over her mouth and waddles from the sink to the Dutch oven to examine her new prize. Not that she’s got more food to cook in it, but still, she releases a sob of joy.
    Then the lawyer reads, “‘To Miss Addie Ann Pickett, my cook’s assistant…’” I reckon that little man said my name. He’s talking about me! I don’t think I’ve ever heard a white person say my whole name before. “‘I leave my television set.’”
    It’s too much to believe! I’m going to be the only person on the Negro side with a working set. I can see all the movies starring Shirley Temple. There’s no doubt about it: I’ll be the
most
popular girl in school. Cool Breeze Huddleston will
pray
I invite him over to watch! One day I’ll be on television myself. I’m going to be a television geography teacher! Not an ordinary geography teacher. A
television
geography teacher like Miss Shirley Smith. I read all about her in
Ebony
magazine, the one I got from the church lending library. Miss Smith teaches children about all the countries in the world. Her program comes on in Ohio. Mine will come on in Mississippi! Why, my family will watch me on this very set!
    But wouldn’t you know it, the happiest moment in my whole entire life is chopped off like the branch of a dead hickory tree.
    The mayor snickers, “There ain’t no…”
    And the sheriff howls, “No electricity…”
    “On Kuckachoo Lane!” snuffles the mayor.
    And there you have it.
No electricity?
I was so excited I didn’t stop to think. But it’s true. Ever since the tornado last month, the power lines have