Beverly stayed at Mr. C’s for most of the afternoon and then went down to Zoom City to meet Elmer.

“I guess I don’t have a job anymore,” she said. “I kind of feel like I should be in the kitchen with Doris and Charles, you know? Like maybe I should have stayed there with them — on strike. But I need to get Iola to the dance. I promised I would.”

They were on the side of A1A, walking to Iola’s. Elmer had a suit jacket slung over his shoulder.

“What you should do is go home,” said Elmer.

“Yeah,” said Beverly. “Duh. That’s where we’re going.”

“No,” said Elmer. “I mean your real home. I mean you should go back.”

“I don’t want to go back.”

“What about school?”

“What about it?

“It’s starting soon. You need to stay in school. You need to graduate.”

“So I can go to college?” said Beverly. “On a full scholarship? To Dartmouth?”

Elmer shrugged. “It could happen.”

“No. It couldn’t.”

“All kinds of things happen that you don’t think could ever happen,” Elmer said.

“Right,” said Beverly. “Sure they do.”

Iola was waiting for them out front. She was dressed for the dance. She was wearing a flowered dress and green shoes. She had on rouge.

Elmer said, “You look great, Mrs. Jenkins.”

“You brought a jacket,” said Iola.

“Yeah, and look what else I brought.” He pulled a striped tie out of his book bag.

“You brought a tie!” said Iola.

“It’s a dance, right? I’ve got to dress right.”

He reached back into his book bag and took out a piece of paper. He held the paper out to Beverly. “This is for you,” he said.

“What is it?”

“It’s a picture. Of you,” he said. “Duh.”

Beverly looked down at the face on the paper. She didn’t recognize it. She knew that it was her, but at the same time, it didn’t make any sense that it was her.

“Will you look at that?” said Iola. “You’re so beautiful.”

“Thanks,” Beverly said to Elmer. She looked up at him, and then she looked back down again. She felt mad for some reason that she didn’t understand. She folded the paper in half.

“Honey!” said Iola. “What are you doing? Don’t do that. You’ll ruin it.”

“It’s fine,” said Elmer. His face was very red. “I don’t care.”

“Give it to me,” said Iola.

Beverly handed the paper to Iola, who worked to straighten out the crease. Her hands were shaking.

“It doesn’t matter,” said Elmer.

“Yes, it does,” said Iola.

“Let’s just go,” said Beverly. “It starts at five, right? Let’s just go to the stupid dance.”

Beverly drove the Pontiac.

Iola sat in the front, and Elmer sat in the back with his jacket on and his arms crossed over his striped tie.

“Oh, I’m just so excited,” said Iola. “My heart is beating so fast. I hope I win the turkey.”

Beverly looked at Elmer in the rearview mirror. She raised her eyebrows at him and smiled. But he didn’t smile back.

When they got to the VFW, Iola went right through the door, straight inside, without even looking back at them. “Hurry up, you two,” she called over her shoulder.

“I’m sorry that I bent it,” Beverly said to Elmer. “The picture, I mean.”

“It’s fine,” said Elmer. “I don’t care.”

“It scared me. I don’t know. It’s like I looked at it, and I recognized myself and I also didn’t recognize myself.”

Elmer shook his head.

“I’m sorry,” she said again.

She looked up at him. But he was looking away from her, staring up at the VFW sign.

“There’s a bird’s nest right there,” she said, pointing to the V.

“Yeah,” he said. “I see it.”

His face was in profile to her. The skin on it looked tight and painful.

“Does it hurt?” she said.

“Does what hurt?”

“Your face.”

“Yeah,” he said. “I know this one. I’m supposed to say, ‘No, why?’ And then you say, ‘Because it’s sure killing me.’”

“It’s not killing me,” said Beverly. “It’s doing the opposite of killing me.”

Elmer was quiet for a minute, staring up at the sign, and then he nodded. “Yes,” he said. “It hurts. But so what? Lots of things hurt. It won’t last forever. Someday, it will clear up. That’s what my mother says. No one has acne on their face for their whole life, right?”

Just then the sign sputtered to life. The V and the F and the W were suddenly lit and glowing. Beverly looked up at the letters and thought about the angel again, about how she had come to deliver important news.

Annunciation.

That’s what Elmer had said the painting was called.

Annunciation.

The angel had come to make an announcement to Mary.

And you knew something important was happening in the painting because the angel had wings like blue fire.

But in real life, how did you know who was announcing what?

Maybe the VFW sign was announcing something. Maybe Mrs. Deely and her cartoons were annunciations. Maybe the mechanical horse was trying to deliver a message. And surely Doris had come to announce something.

Maybe everything and everyone in the world should be painted with blue wings.

“Where do you get lapis lazuli?” Beverly asked Elmer.

“I don’t know,” he said. “I’m not sure. Somewhere far away — the Middle East, maybe? I’ll find out where.”

She took hold of his hand and squeezed it.

And then she tried to let go of him, but he wouldn’t let her.

“No,” he said.

“Beverly and Elmer!” Iola called. She was standing at the door to the VFW. She waved to them. “Come on inside and dance.”

“I can tell you one thing,” said Beverly. “I’m not dancing.”

“Let’s go,” said Elmer.

Beverly walked inside with him, still holding his hand.