Iola was sitting out in front of the trailer. Nod was in her lap.

“I’ve been waiting for you, darling,” said Iola. She smiled. “Don’t tell me not to wait, because I’m waiting. And look at this!” She waved a piece of paper over her head, and then held it out to Beverly.

Beverly took the paper. “Christmas in July at the VFW,” she read. “Win the world’s largest turkey! Dance to a live band! Trim the tree! Refreshments: Cheese! Crackers! Punch! Good times for one and all. From five p.m. until the cows come home.”

There was a picture of a turkey down at the bottom of the page. He was smiling, which was stupid, since somebody was going to cook him and eat him. There were Christmas lights around the border of the page and a grinning Santa up in the right-hand corner. Next to Santa’s head was the word Ho.

Not Ho, ho, ho.

Just Ho.

“It’s August,” said Beverly, handing the flyer back to Iola. “How can they have Christmas in July in August?”

“They have Christmas in July every year, and I suppose they didn’t get everything put together in time this year. I thought maybe they wasn’t going to have it at all. But now, here they are having it, and it is tomorrow night! Can you believe it? I’m just so excited. It’s for all ages — you can go, too. Oh, it is a good time. It is just so much fun. I love to dance. Don’t you love to dance?”

“No,” said Beverly.

“Everybody loves to dance,” said Iola. “And this year, they are having a contest for the world’s largest turkey. They have had turkey giveaways before, but they’ve never had one where you could win the world’s largest turkey.”

“Can Elmer come over here for dinner?” said Beverly.

“Who?” said Iola.

“Elmer. My friend. The friend I made yesterday.”

“Elmer, your friend. Of course he can. When?”

“Today? Tonight? Now?”

“Yes,” said Iola. “Yes.” She smiled up at Beverly. Her wig was crooked. Her eyes were huge behind her glasses.

“I’ll just go and invite him, then,” said Beverly.

“Well, my goodness,” said Iola. “I guess I will get up out of this chair and start cooking. Tuna melts?”

“Tuna melts,” said Beverly.

She walked up to A1A. She walked past Mr. C’s, past the phone booth. She went up to Zoom City. She walked past the metal horse with his front legs stretched out as if he were going somewhere, when really he wasn’t going anywhere at all.

Elmer looked up when she walked in, and then he looked away.

“Do you like tuna melts?” she said.

Elmer didn’t say anything.

“Can you come over for dinner tonight?”

Elmer was silent.

“Okay,” said Beverly. “How about this one? What’s the square root of two?”

“When are you going to stop asking me questions?” said Elmer.

“I don’t know,” said Beverly. “Maybe when you start answering some. So. Can you come over for dinner tonight?”

He turned his head and looked at her. “No,” he said.

“Why not?”

“Don’t pity me,” he said.

“I don’t pity you.”

“Yeah? Well, did Jerome tell you what he used to call me?”

“Fudd,” said Beverly.

“Right, Fudd.”

“So what?” said Beverly.

“So th-th-that’s all, folks. I don’t need your pity. I don’t need to come to your house and eat tuna melts.”

“It’s not my house,” said Beverly. “It’s just where I’m staying. It’s a trailer, a pink trailer. It belongs to an old lady named Iola. She has a cat named Nod.”

Elmer shook his head.

“It’s close to the ocean,” said Beverly. “So it’s a crooked little trailer by a crooked little sea.”

Elmer smiled. He looked down at his hands.

“Come on,” said Beverly.

The door to Zoom City opened, and a man with a beard walked in. He was in his bare feet. He nodded to Elmer, and Elmer nodded back. The man walked over to the cooler.

From where she was standing, Beverly could see the horse outside — bolted into place, waiting.

“I don’t think so,” said Elmer.

“In a crooked little house by a crooked little sea,” said Beverly. “You wrote those words, didn’t you?”

“No,” he said. He shook his head. He looked up at her. “No, I told you I didn’t. Why do you keep thinking it was me?”

“Because I like the words so much,” she said. “Because they make sense to me.”

He smiled again.

“I’ll wait here,” she said. “It’s almost five. I’ll just wait outside for you. And then after dinner, I’ll drive you home. Iola has a Pontiac.”

“Gee!” said Elmer. “A Pontiac! And no, thank you. You’re not old enough to drive me anywhere.”

“I’m a great driver,” said Beverly. “I’ll wait for you outside. Okay?”

“Do whatever you want to do,” said Elmer.