“Are you out of your mind?”

Again, both Lin and I managed to shout at him in perfect synchronization.

“What in the world is pickleball, anyway?” Lin asked, drawing a spoon threateningly from her pocket.

“Whoa there, Spoon Girl,” Cricket said, righting himself and pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “For your information, pickleball is a highly sophisticated sport, played by the elite in the first class.”

For one moment, Lin and I felt like best friends again. We were both agog at Cricket’s … I don’t know the word for it.

One minute he’s Mister Dashing Guy That Has A Bomb, and next he’s good ol’ goofy glasses all over again.

Which one’s the real Cricket?

“Pickleball is quite simple,” Cricket continued, seemingly unaffected by Lin’s glare of doom.

“Is it, now?” I asked, my tone cloyingly sweet. “Would you care to explain?!”

Cricket’s face soured, and then he continued.

“Oh, very well. I forgot to mention – you guys aren’t allowed to kill me, either.”

“Get on with it.”