When the song ended with a cymbal crash, Stanley was overwhelmed by all the people screaming his name. Someone leaped onto the stage and tried to hug him, but Stanley slid out from under her arms. Suddenly the crowd rushed the stage like a tidal wave. The microphone stand was knocked to the ground, and Stanley lost his balance.
What if I get trampled? he thought. He tucked his head to his chest and rolled himself up. Then he heard Arthur’s muffled voice: “We have to get Stanley out of here!”
“Eduardo, you’re the strongest!” said Carlos.
“Hold on, Stanley!” hollered Eduardo. He lifted Stanley up and tossed him off the stage like a giant bowling ball. Stanley’s body barreled through the crowd, his head spinning. He could hear people jumping out of his way. He rolled on, his friends close behind.
The mob of fans did not stop chasing them until they were halfway across campus.
An hour later Eduardo peeked out from between the curtains of his dorm room, watching the crowd of people outside. “I cannot believe it,” he said. “They’re still there. There’s even one girl in a cowboy hat who looks really dangerous.” More than a dozen fans had occupied the sidewalk outside Eduardo’s dorm. Every once in a while Stanley could hear them chanting his name.
Stanley was draped over the back of the couch. His stomach grumbled. Eduardo had ordered pizza, but it hadn’t arrived yet.
Carlos said, “Does this always happen when you travel, Stanley?”
Stanley didn’t answer.
“It’s gotten worse since he won the National Medal of Achievement on TV,” Arthur said.
“I wish I had this many girls chasing me,” said Eduardo with admiration.
Stanley grimaced.
Carlos said, “On the way here, Señora Lambchop got pulled over by the police, and instead of giving us a ticket, the officer just asked Stanley for his autograph!”
There was a knock on the door. Eduardo walked over to look through the peephole. “Pizza!” he called.
While Eduardo paid the driver, Stanley carried the pizza over to the coffee table and opened the box.
Staring up at him was a fan letter resting right on top of the pizza. In flowery letters someone had written the words COME OUTSIDE, STANLEY!
With a grunt, Stanley tore the note in half.
“What’s wrong, amigo?” Carlos said.
“I just want to hang out with my friends this weekend!” Stanley said. “In peace and quiet!”
“I know what we should do,” Eduardo announced after a moment. “Go camping! Get away from all this loco attention.”
“Are we allowed?” Carlos asked.
“I don’t think our mom would mind,” said Arthur, “as long as we drive safely, show up at the Alamo on time, and use good grammar.”
“I have a car and camping gear,” said Eduardo. “I even know a dude ranch where we can get horses. We’ll go riding and camping, just the four of us, and then I’ll take you to meet your mother in San Antonio.”
The boys scarfed down their pizza and packed up their things. Since they were on the ground floor, they snuck out the back window. Stanley went first, and the others slid down his body. They crept to Eduardo’s car and piled in. The car peeled away, and the shouts of Stanley’s fans quickly faded into the distance.
There’s nothing better, thought Stanley, than four guys together on the open road!