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The Uninvited

The Uninvited

The Uninvited

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signal again. <strong>The</strong> sign of the eye.‘NO!’ he shouts. ‘I didn’t do anything!She didn’t do anything! I don’t even knowher!’ His face is pink and hot-looking withrage.I can’t tolerate lying. But I can’t provehe isn’t telling the truth.‘Come on.’ I start walking fast, foldingpaper mentally in an angry rhythm: asingle sheet that gets smaller and smallerand smaller, beyond the nine folds that arephysically possible, until it is a densecube. By the time I turn left on to theB305, Freddy’s whimpering. I don’t wanthim to cry.‘All right, Freddy K?’I reach down and hug him. <strong>The</strong> bikewobbles as he clings to me. I close myeyes. ‘It’s OK, Freddy K. I’m sorry I

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