Mr. Larksong stood up at the counter and talked to Elmer, and Beverly walked up and down the aisles of Zoom City, looking at the toilet paper and baseball caps and beef jerky and packages of gum. She pretended that she had come in for something and wasn’t finding it — whatever it was.

Chips, antifreeze, paper towels, masking tape, aspirin, milk, hard candy, soft candy, knit hats, key chains.

Why was there so much crap in the world?

Up at the counter, Mr. Larksong kept coughing. He would say something to Elmer and then cough. Every time he coughed, he put both his hands on the counter, as if he were working to push the counter deep into the ground.

“What are you looking for?” Elmer called to her.

Beverly thought about the blue wings on the angel on the front of Elmer’s book.

That was what she was looking for — that brilliant, impossible blue.

How stupid was that?

“None of your business,” she said to him.

“Come up here, young lady,” said Mr. Larksong. “I want to show you something.”

Beverly rolled her eyes.

She walked slowly up to the front of the store. There were three oversize books open and spread out on the counter, their glossy pages shining in the fluorescent light.

“This,” said Mr. Larksong, jabbing his finger at one of the open pages, “is The Song of the Lark.” He started to cough. But he kept his finger where it was, pointing at a painting of a girl standing in a field. The girl was holding a scythe. The sun was coming up behind her. Even without the sun being all the way up, there was light everywhere.

“I don’t see a lark,” said Beverly.

“Exactly,” said Mr. Larksong. He put both hands on the counter and coughed again. “It’s called song of the lark.”

Beverly stared at the girl in the painting. She didn’t have any shoes on. You could tell by the way she held her body that she was listening.

“You can’t paint a picture of a song,” said Beverly.

Mr. Larksong smiled at her. “But he did it anyway, didn’t he? The painter painted a song without painting a musical instrument, without even painting a bird.” He closed the book. “Elmer is going to learn all about that.”

“I told you,” said Elmer. “I’m not going to study art. I want to be an engineer.”

“Going to Dartmouth,” said Mr. Larksong to Beverly. “Sixteen years old and he’s got a full scholarship.” He slapped his palm on the counter. “That’s the kind of boy you’re dealing with here.” He coughed.

Elmer looked down at the counter. His face was getting redder.

“In the meantime,” said Mr. Larksong, “I’m dying. Cancer. Lung cancer. Cigarettes will kill you. You don’t smoke, do you, young lady?”

“No,” said Beverly.

“Good for you,” said Mr. Larksong. “Okay, well, I guess I’ll be on my way. Elmer, it was good to see you. And, you,” he said to Beverly, “whoever you are, I hope to see you again.”

Mr. Larksong leaned on his cane and made his way slowly over to the door.

“Good-bye, Mr. Larksong,” said Elmer.

Mr. Larksong pulled the door open wide. It closed slowly behind him.

“Are all of these books yours?” said Beverly.

“Library,” said Elmer.

“Where’s the one with the angel?”

“What?” said Elmer. He looked up at her. “Which one with the angel? Art is filled with angels.”

“The one you had yesterday,” said Beverly. She could feel her own face getting red, but she kept going. “The one with the Italian Renaissance art.” The words felt strange and sharp in her mouth.

Elmer reached under the counter and pulled out another book.

“This?” he said.

The blue of the angel’s wings was just as astonishing as it had been the day before. And the angel looked just as annoyed — like she had too much to do and no one was helping her get it done.

The Zoom City door opened, and a man with a baseball cap and sunglasses came into the store. He was whistling.

“It’s called Annunciation,” said Elmer. “What do you like about it?”

Beverly said nothing.

“The painting,” said Elmer. “Why do you like it?”

“Who said I liked it?” said Beverly. And then she said, “Because of the wings.”

Elmer nodded.

“My name’s Beverly,” she said.

“What’s your last name?”

“Tapinski.”

He stared at her.

“What?” she said. “Do you want to know my middle name, too?”

“Sure,” he said.

“Louise,” said Beverly. “Satisfied?”

“I’m Elmer.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“I’m reminding you,” he said. And then he raised the book up so that it covered his face. “I get off at five,” he said from behind the book. “In case you were wondering.”

“I wasn’t wondering,” she said.

But Beverly Tapinski was smiling when she left Zoom City.