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something I will want to marry him if I ever decide I believe in marriage, but that's forever away and right now it's not like I need to spend every waking second with him. I guess I just wanted to know that when he pictured his future, I was in it. And since he wouldn't make that proclamation, I announced, "Maybe the tarot cards were right. Maybe you're not my soulmate."
    Shrimp sighed again. "Or maybe you're making the tarot cards be right."
    "You don't believe in the tarot, do you?" I said.
    He did not even hesitate. "Nope," he said.
    "So you think Sugar is a liar?" I asked.
    "I didn't say that," he said. He took a deep breath, signaling he was about to spout more than his usual minimal sentence comments. "I said I don't believe in those cards any more than I believe that fate is predetermined and we have no choice about it. I'm saying that if you decide that the tarot card says I am not your soulmate or your eternal whatever, then maybe now you're about to make it a self-fulfilling prophecy."
    "Mister Big Words!" I accused, then wished I had some automatic smacking device I could use on myself. I had just pulled a Nancy, who always gives Sid or me stupid names when we have said something totally smart and she can't think of anything smart to say back quickly. Which is how Sid often gets called "Mister All-Important Executive Man," and I become "Miss Sullen Teen Nightmare."
    '"Mister Big Words,'" Shrimp repeated, laughing, like I had just broken through to a whole new undiscovered level
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    of uncool. "Cyd Charisse, you are just delicious."
    He leaned down to kiss me but I was giggling, too. Fight forgotten. I reached my arms out to him and he snuggled in. We didn't do It. Just looked at the moon and stars through the sunroof as Shrimp whispered a rap song in my ear. Mister Big Words. Lover of interdimensional planetary combustolary wordiness bo-bo-birdiness. Cyd Charisse and Shrimp in the Land of Big Words, flying through multisyllabic iambic pentameter haiku why you juvenile court detention retention. Word .
    When he finished, I whispered back in his ear, "I love you."
    "Yeah," he mumbled in that sexy deep voice, "ditto." For a little guy, he sure could keep a girl warm.
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    Nine
    After Shrimp dropped me off at home, I went in through the back door. Sid and Nancy were talking in his study, drinking martinis. They must have had a really tiring day because normally Sid drinks only the martinis I make for him. When I was younger, Sid used to pay me a dollar to make his martinis and pack the tip of his cigar before he had his evening smoke. Sid says I am his perfect creation, that only I make the perfect martini.
    Nancy was saying to Sid, "Well, at least she's not dating a drug dealer or turning up pregnant. I guess we should be grateful for that."
    I came this close to letting out a gigantic "HAH!" from the other side of the sliding mahogany study door.
    "Nancy," Sid said. A warm feeling of comfort and safety came over me, which I realized was caused by the smell of Sid's cigar. "Relax. I think the recovering little hellion's bad times are behind her. Frankly, I don't see why you're so concerned about that boy . Seems like since they've been together, she's managed not to be arrested for shoplifting or get kicked out of school. He's a good enough kid. Did you know he's going to work part-time at the Java the Hut store at Ocean Beach? Good thing for a young person, holding a job."
    "She spends all her time with him!" Nancy shrieked. "We don't know anything about his family! At least that Justin boy, we knew of his family."
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    "If you ask me, Justin was Cyd Charisse's trouble, not this Shrimp fellow." The dirty little secret in our family is that Sid-dad loves all his children, but I am his pet. He always defends me to Nancy. Drives her nuts.
    "How do you know so much about that boy , Mister Sudden Empathy?"
    "Maybe if you spent some time actually talking to him instead of scowling at his hair or his clothes or his way