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With the curtains pulled shut, all the Fair noises seemed muffled and far away. The place sort of gave me the creeps.
    â€œSit down please.”
    My eyes had adjusted enough to see a lady sitting behind a table. She was younger than I’d thought she’d be, dressed up like a gypsy. You could tell it was a costume, though, not something she’d wear all the time. I sat down. I’d never been in that kind of a set-up, and I wasn’t sure what to do.
    â€œCross my palm with silver.” She held out her hand. Now if Johnny had been in there with me, the whole thing would have been funny. But alone, I didn’t feel like laughing. The hairs on the back of my neck were tickling me. I had that happen before once, when I seen a ghost.
    And now even the little hairs up and down my backbone were standing up, tickling me. This place was creepy.
    â€œYou mean pay you?” I asked, after a minute. It’d look funny to Johnny and them if I rushed out without getting my fortune told. She nodded, so I handed her the dollar.
    â€œWhen is your birthday?”
    â€œOctober twenty-second. I’ll be fifteen,” I added. She looked at some kind of map spread out on the table. Then she said, “Let me see your palm.”
    I held out my hand. She took it in a firm hold and looked at my palm for a minute or two. Then she said, “Your far past: You are a fourth-generation cowboy. Your near past: violence and sorrow. Your next year: change. My best advice: Don’t change. Your future: There are people who go, people who stay. You will stay.”
    She dropped my hand. “You may think to yourself one yes or no question.”
    That was what I was waiting for. I thought “Will I get Negrito back?”
    She was quiet, then said, “I’m sorry, the answer is no.”
    Up till then she’d been using a fakey, gypsy-type voice, and to hear her turn human on me was the scariest part of the whole thing. I got up, glad to get out of there.
    Johnny and Jamie and Marcie were waiting for me. It was hard to get back into the mood of the Fair. I was still thinking about Negrito.
    â€œWhat did she say? Going or staying?” Jamie asked.
    â€œStaying, I reckon,” I said, “whatever that means.”
    â€œI think she’s a fake,” Jamie said suddenly.
    â€œNow’s a fine time to decide that. After wasting all that money,” Johnny said.
    â€œWell, it wasn’t your money so shut up. I think she’s a fake. What else did she tell you, Tex?”
    â€œSaid I was a fourth-generation cowboy, and I’d had violence in my near past.”
    â€œGreat. You walk in there wearing boots and a cowboy hat, with the remains of a fist fight all over your face, and she sees you’re a cowboy with a violent past. Real powers, all right.”
    I’d forgot my face hadn’t quite healed up.
    â€œAnyway,” Jamie went on, “for you to be a fourth-generation cowboy, your father and grandfather and great-grandfather would have to be cowboys. And you told us your grandpa had been a preacher.”
    That was right. Pop used to tell us about the wild stuff he did when he was a kid, then say, “Well, I was the preacher’s kid, so what could you expect?”
    â€œWhat did she tell you?” I asked Jamie. I got the feeling that Jamie was a person who was going.
    â€œThat I’d be married three times, and I know I couldn’t stand it once.”
    â€œGood,” said Johnny, “that’ll save three guys a lot of grief and misery.”
    I wanted to ride something real quick, to get back into the mood of the Fair. The Zipper was one of the scariest rides they had, so we rode it next, Johnny buying the tickets for all of us. Jamie sat with me, and Marcie rode with Johnny. We could hear them both hollering, while Jamie’d gasp, “I don’t see what’s so scary about this.” It flipped us upside down and went straight up