He chose to ignore my comment.

“Here we are,” Cricket said, holding the shuttlecock in the air triumphantly. “I’d say you ladies should get some practice, because Round Three’s good ol’ badminton!” He waited for our reaction. “Well, geez, don’t act too excited,” he said, exaspereated at our apparent lack of enthusiasm. “I’m just doing my job, here! Miss Spoony here made me make up this competition! You could at least act excited! Speaking of acting, I’d get some practice in it…”

“What’s that s’posed to mean, Broadway Boy?” Lin asked, frusterated.

“It’s called foreshadowing, my friend.” Cricket’s steely eyes narrowed dangerously, giving a red-flag warning to the Spoon Ninja not to pry any more than she had.

“You can practice with Tony, he’ll show you your court,” he spat, storming out of the shack.

I shot a “nice going genius, you got him mad” look to a stunned Lin, and took off after Cricket.