She had run away from home plenty of times, but that was when she was just a kid.

It wasn’t running away this time, she figured. It was leaving.

She had left.

Beverly walked down the side of A1A. She had on an old pair of flip-flops, and it didn’t take long for her feet to start hurting. Cars went zooming past her, leaving behind hot gusts of metallic air.

She saw a sign with a pink seahorse painted on it. She stopped. She stared at the seahorse. He was smiling and chubby-cheeked. There were a lot of little bubbles coming out of his mouth, and then one big bubble that had the words SEAHORSE COURT, AN RV COMMUNITY written inside of it.

Past the sign, there was a ground-up seashell drive that led to a bunch of trailers. A woman was standing in front of a pink trailer holding a hose, spraying a sad bunch of flowers.

The woman raised her hand and waved. “Howdy, howdy!” she shouted.

“Right,” said Beverly. “Howdy.”

She started walking again. She looked down at her feet. “Howdy,” she said to them. “Howdy.”

She would get a job.

That’s what she would do.

How hard could it be to get a job? Joe Travis had done it.

After the Seahorse Court, there was a motel called the Seaside End and then there was a restaurant called Mr. C’s.

MR. C’S IS YOUR LUNCH SPOT! said the sign. WE COOK YOU ALL THE FISH IN THE C!

Beverly hated fish.

She walked across the blacktop parking lot. It was almost entirely empty. She went up to the restaurant and opened the door.

It was cool and dark inside. It smelled like grease. And also fish.

“Party of one?” said a girl with a lot of blond hair. She was wearing a name tag that said Welcome to Mr. C’s! I’m Freddie.

From somewhere in the darkness, off to the left, there came the ping and hum of a video game.

“I’m looking for a job,” said Beverly.

“Here?” said Freddie.

“Is there a job here?”

“Mr. Denby!” shouted Freddie. “Hey, someone out here wants a job. Who knows why.”

Beverly looked to the right, past Freddie. She could see a dining room with blue chairs and blue tablecloths, and a big window that looked out on the ocean. The brightness of the room, the blueness of it, hurt her eyes.

She remembered, suddenly, that Buddy was dead.

And then she wished she hadn’t remembered.

“Forget it,” she said out loud.

“Forget what?” said Freddie. “We’re getting ready to close, anyway. This is just a lunch restaurant.” And then she shouted again, “Mr. Denby! Hey, Mr. Denby!” She rolled her eyes. “I guess I have to do everything around here.”

She walked off down the dark hallway. A minute later, she was back. A man with a mustache was walking behind her. There was a red crease on the man’s forehead, and he had on a gigantic tie imprinted with little yellow fish.

“This is Mr. Denby,” said Freddie. “He was asleep. Can you believe it?”

Mr. Denby blinked.

“He had his head down on the desk and everything,” said Freddie. “He was snoring.”

“I was not snoring,” said Mr. Denby. “I was not sleeping. I was resting my eyes. Paperwork is hard on the eyes. Freddie says that you want a job.”

“Yes,” said Beverly.

“Well, we do need someone to bus tables. I’ll have to interview you, I suppose.”

“What’s your name?” said Freddie.

“Beverly,” said Beverly.

“I’ll get right on it, Mr. Denby,” said Freddie.

“You’ll get right on what?” said Mr. Denby. He rubbed at the red mark on his forehead.

“You spell Beverly with a B, right?” said Freddie.

“Right,” said Beverly.

“Follow me,” said Mr. Denby.

The video game pinged and chortled. Mr. Denby headed down the dark hallway.

Beverly wasn’t a big fan of following people.

But Buddy was dead.

What mattered now?

Not much.

Nothing really.

She followed Mr. Denby.