"You—!"
Doyle stopped himself right there and took a deep breath.
Today was going to be a great day.
A victorious day.
A day where he would reclaim dignity, pride, and possibly student opinion polls.
He didn't need to panic just because he saw and heard that horrifying blonde with the damning mouth.
Admittedly, he shivered. But that was anger.
Yes.
Definitely anger.
There could easily be a hundred uncles wandering around today because of the polishing competition. That brat shouting "Uncle!" didn't automatically mean he was referring to him, especially when he was so young and promising.
Also, with the number of students Doyle had brought along, it was entirely reasonable to assume the midget wasn't calling him out specifically.
Except one Ollie Mylor was most definitely calling him out.
That uncanny glimmer on Doyle's head made him impossible to miss in a crowd of mechanics. He might as well have been equipped with built-in reflectors.
