Hey,” said Jerome the next day when he came to pick up Freddie. “Hey, Beverly Anne. You seen my graduation tassel?”

“Your graduation tassel?”

“Yeah, it’s missing.”

“Why would I know anything about your stupid graduation tassel?” said Beverly.

“It’s just that I meet you, you leave, and then I go out to my truck, and guess what?” Jerome took the toothpick out of his mouth and studied the tip of it closely.

“What?” said Beverly.

“Well,” said Jerome. He put the toothpick back in his mouth. “I go out there, and my tassel is gone. I meet you, and my tassel disappears. That’s a — what do you call them things?”

“A coincidence?” said Beverly.

“Yeah,” said Jerome. “A real strong coincidence.”

“What color was it?”

“Huh?”

“Your graduation tassel. What color was it?”

“Gold,” said Jerome.

“Gold like you were an honor grad?”

“Yeah,” said Jerome. “Gold like that.”

“Well, if I find your gold honor-grad tassel, I’ll let you know.”

“Beverly Anne!” called Mr. Denby. “Could you please see me in the office?”

“Yeah, Beverly Anne,” said Jerome. He took a step closer to her. He smelled like sweat and cologne. “Why don’t you go and see Mr. Denby in the office? Huh? Why don’t you sit down beside him and help him count out all his money?” He winked at her.

“Beverly Anne?” said Mr. Denby again.

Beverly walked away.

It was satisfying to think that Jerome’s stupid tassel was probably halfway to Cuba by now.

After Mr. Denby paid her and said that he was going to locate some paperwork for her to fill out very soon, Beverly went to Zoom City. She walked there without really planning to do it. She told herself she wanted to see the horse.

And the horse was right where she had left him — bolted in front of the store, his mouth open and his teeth showing, that look of terror and sadness in his eyes. Stupid horse. She touched his flank. It was warm from the sun.

The Zoom City door opened. Elmer stuck his head out and said, “What? Do you need a dime?”

“No,” said Beverly. “I don’t need a dime.”

“There’s no age limit, you know,” said Elmer, waving his hand in the direction of the horse. “Anyone can ride.”

“Ha-ha,” said Beverly. She looked at his face, at the mask of pimples, his heavy-lidded eyes. He stood with one foot in Zoom City, and the other foot outside. His name tag was on crooked.

Elmer.

Who named their kid Elmer?

“Quit looking at me,” Elmer said.

“I’m not looking at you,” said Beverly.

“Right,” he said. “Sure, you’re not.” Suddenly, he stood up straighter. He looked past Beverly. “Good afternoon,” he called out. “Good afternoon, Mr. Larksong.”

Beverly turned.

An old man with a cane was walking across the parking lot, picking his way slowly through the spangled brightness of pop tabs embedded in the macadam.

“Hello, Elmer,” the man called back.

Elmer pushed the door open wider. He smiled. His teeth flashed. They were straight and even and white.

“I’m going to purchase some cigarettes today, Elmer,” said the man, when he got closer to them. “Today’s the day. Don’t try to talk me out of it.”

“Stevie’s not here, Mr. Larksong. And I won’t sell them to you. I just won’t. So, no cigarettes for you, I guess.” He smiled. “In any case, I don’t think that cigarettes are the answer.”

“What is the answer, then?”

The old man stood next to Beverly. He was breathing heavily. There was a peach-colored hearing aid in his ear. It looked like a misshapen seashell — something that you would pick up off the beach, look at, and then throw back into the ocean.

“Maybe you know what the answer is,” Mr. Larksong said, turning and looking at Beverly.

“Nope,” she said. “I don’t.”

He smiled at her. He had false teeth.

“Who’s your young friend, Elmer?” said Mr. Larksong. “I like her. I like anybody who doesn’t claim to know the answers.”

“I’m not his friend,” said Beverly.

“She’s not my friend,” said Elmer.

“Got it,” said Mr. Larksong. “Not friends.” He smiled again. “Let’s try it this way, then. What’s your name, young lady?”

Beverly stared at Mr. Larksong. He stared back without blinking. He had eyes like a lizard — tiny and bright.

“All right, then,” he said. “I’ll go first. I’m Frank. Frank Larksong. Larksong, as in The Song of the Lark. Ever seen that painting? The Song of the Lark?”

“No,” said Beverly.

“It’s a beauty,” said Mr. Larksong. “Makes you stop and listen.” He coughed. He cleared his throat. “Yep,” he said. “That’s me. Frank Larksong. And you are?”

Beverly said nothing.

“Look,” said Elmer. “Never mind. Who cares what her name is? I don’t know her name, and I don’t need to know it. Why don’t you come inside where it’s cool, Mr. Larksong?” Elmer stepped back and held the door wide.

“Come on,” said Elmer. “Inside.”

Mr. Larksong smiled his big denture-filled smile at Beverly, and then he walked past her, leaning heavily on his cane, and went inside Zoom City. But Elmer kept standing there, holding the door open. He wasn’t looking at Beverly. He was staring somewhere past her.

“Well?” he said.

Beverly could feel the cool air from inside flowing out.

She could hear the ocean.

“Well, what?” she said.

“Hurry up,” said Elmer, still not looking at her.

She shrugged. She stepped past him.

She went inside.