Don't Mess With an Angry Cricket

I couldn’t take much more of this. “Come on Cricket,” I said, grabbing his wrist.
“Oh no.” Cricket jerked to a stop, I with him. Lin had grabbed his other wrist. “You might let him crawl home to his Apple wormhole.” Cricket’s jaw dropped, clearly insulted.
“No you don’t.” I pulled him towards me. “I let him out of my sight once with you around, I’m not doing it again.”
“Whoa, whoa, ladies!” Cricket cried, snapping us off his arms. Reaching into his pockets he threw what looked like marbles over our heads, which enveloped us in bubbles.
“What the heck?!”
“I’ve head girls fight over me before, but this is absolutely ridiculous! Neither of you are leaving my sight until this thing is over with. Got it?” he thundered, his New-York accent thick in his voice. I’ve never seen a more formidable Cricket. We nodded, wide-eyed. “Right. I got a venue all set up for tomorrow. In the meantime we are not leaving this apartment.”
I crouched in my bubble, my head in my arms. It was going to be a very long night.

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