Free Filter House by Nisi Shawl

aside the twigs and leaves lying there. “Someone who dedicates their whole life to the study of plants.”
    “Unh-unh,” said Anniette. “That’s different than what I want.”
    “Really?” said the lady, sounding like grown-ups always did when they thought that she was cute. “What exactly is it that you want, then? Do you know?”
    Anniette thought how to say it. “I want to know what makes things. What makes everything happen.”
    The lady laughed. Not in a mean way, but she laughed. “A little colored philosopher-girl. How fine. Things have truly changed. And we actually are related?”
    There were layers of pink, packed tight under the green. They were thin, pressed way down from what they were going to be. She pulled one petal off, held it up to look through at the sun. The lady was gone.

    She had on her swimsuit. Gransie said it was okay. As she walked, tiny wrinkles of blue and green stretched and bunched together in a way that pleased her. This was the favorite swimsuit she’d ever had, with seahorses like in Daddy’s aquarium.
    Dirt steps boxed with big boards led down to the lake. It was called Maple Lake. Most of the trees were on the other end. This side had reeds and lily pads and that strange, hollow grass that squeaked when you pulled it apart.
    She went out to the end of the dock and waved up at the house. Gransie waved back from the kitchen window. She was not supposed to go in past the bleach bottle buoy. Maybe later Uncle Troy would come by and take her out to fish.
    She sat down, careful of splinters in the weathered wood. She slipped her bare feet into the dark green water. It was cold. Maybe she would just sit there with her feet in for a while. An enormous lavender dragonfly streaked past her head to land glittering on the tip of a nearby reed. The reed, bent under the insect’s weight, arched and quivered in the breeze.
    The sound of a car engine swooped up the driveway and shut off. A car door slammed. She looked up. Uncle Troy was taking a suitcase out of the trunk of his car. It must be some of the Raineses. She couldn’t see who. She waited, swirling the water with her toes. They would be down here soon, if it was anybody nice. She wasn’t supposed to get in their way.
    Footsteps on the dock. “Anniette, is that really you?” Miss Margaret came up and sat down beside her.
    “‘Course it is,” Anniette said. Grown-ups.
    “I didn’t recognize you; you’ve grown so big since the last time I saw you.”
    “Thanks,” Anniette said. Trying to be polite she added, “You look like you’ve grown too.” That wasn’t quite right; it sounded like she was calling Miss Margaret fat. She didn’t know what to say to make things better, so she shut up.
    Miss Margaret was quiet too, for a while, then went on. “Well, I have. I’ve been at college for a whole year, now. But Mama still fussed about me staying in Chicago all alone while she and Daddy went to meet Bruce in New York. So we compromised. Do you know what that means, Anniette?” Anniette shook her head no. “It means we neither of us got what we really wanted. She didn’t get to drag me to New York and dangle me in front of all her phoney-baloney friends, and I didn’t get to stay in Chicago with Roger.”
    “Who’s Roger?”
    “Oh, he’s someone very special! He’s a painter, Anniette.” Miss Margaret moved her round, serious face closer to show how important this information was.
    “Pictures?”
    “Yes. Wonderful pictures. Oh, Anniette, maybe he’ll come here, maybe you’ll get to meet him. Mama didn’t say he couldn’t. She and Daddy and Bruce won’t be up till the end of next week, at the earliest.”
    Good. She still had time to explore the house. She looked up at the sky. Hazy clouds melted imperceptibly into the blue. Maybe tomorrow it would rain, and she wouldn’t feel so bad for staying inside.
    Uncle Troy came down the stairs. His white T-shirt had little dark spots of sweat around the collar and