Filter House Read Online Free PDF Page A

matter how sad she looked. She started walking away again.
    “Hey, I’ll send a card on your birthday,” Oneida yelled after her, because she couldn’t think of what else to say.

    Wednesday the Chief of Police put Dad on suspension.
    That meant they could drive to Detroit early, as soon as Dad woke up on Thursday. Oneida helped her mom with the last-minute packing. There was no time to do laundry.
    Dad didn’t care. “They got water and electricity in Detroit last time I checked, Joanne, and Big Mama must have at least one washing machine.”
    They drove and drove. It took two whole hours. Oneida knew they were getting close when they went by the giant tire, ten stories tall. There were more and more buildings, bigger and bigger ones. Then came the billboard with a huge stove sticking out of it, and they were there.
    Detroit was the fifth largest city in the United States. Big Mama lived on a street called Davenport, like a couch, off Woodward. Her house was dark and cool inside, without much furniture. Royal answered the door and led them back to the kitchen, the only room that ever got any sunshine.
    “Y’all made good time,” said Big Mama. “Dinner’s just gettin started.” She squeezed Oneida’s shoulders and gave her a cup of lime Kool-Aid.
    “Can I go finish watching cartoons?” asked Royal.
    “Your mama an daddy an sister jus drove all this way; you ain’t got nothin to say to em?
    “Limoges over at the park with Luemma and Ivy Joe,” she told Mom and Dad. They sent Royal to bring her home and sat down at the table, lighting cigarettes.
    Oneida drank her Kool-Aid quickly and rinsed out her empty cup. She wandered back through the house to the front door. From a tv in another room, boingy sounds like bouncing springs announced the antics of some orange cat or indigo dog.
    Mercy watched soap operas. Maybe Oneida would be able to convince the other children those were more fun. Secret, forbidden shows grown-ups didn’t want you to see, about stuff they said you’d understand when you got older.
    Limoges ran over the lawn shouting “’Neida! ’Neida!” At least somebody was glad to see her. Oneida opened the screen door. “I thought you wasn’t comin till Saturday!”
    “Weren’t,” she corrected her little sister. “I thought you weren’t.”
    “What happened?”
    “Dad got extra days off. They’re in the kitchen.” Royal and the other kids were nowhere in sight. Oneida followed Limoges back to find their parents.
    It was hot; the oven was on. Big Mama was rolling out dough for biscuits and heating oil. She had Oneida and Limoges take turns shaking chicken legs in a bag of flour. Then they set the dining-room table and scrounged chairs from the back porch and when that wasn’t enough, from Big Mama’s bedroom upstairs. Only Oneida was allowed to go in.
    It smelled different in there than the whole rest of the house. Better. Oneida closed the door behind her.
    There were more things, too. Bunches of flowers with ribbons wrapped around them hung from the high ceiling. Two tables overflowed with indistinct objects, which pooled at their feet. The tables flanked a tall, black rectangle—something shiny, with a thin cloth flung over it, she saw, coming closer. A mirror? She reached to move aside the cloth, but a picture on the table to her right caught her eye.
    It was of what she had seen that night in the vacant lot. A blue heart floated in a starry sky, with flowers around it. Only these flowers were pink and gold. And in the middle of the heart, a door had been cut.
    The door’s crystal knob seemed real. She touched it. It was. It turned between her thumb and forefinger. The door opened.
    The Blue Lady. Oneida had never seen her before, but who else could this be a painting of? Her skin was pale blue, like the sky; her hair rippled down dark and smooth all the way to her ankles. Her long dress was blue and white, with pearls and diamonds sewn on it in swirling lines. She wore a cape