“I thought he was exaggerating about that whole LAPD thing, but now I don’t think he was,” Sam said.
Finally, the photo requests inside the diner ceased and Cash was free to go. He climbed into the station wagon through the back and collapsed on the pile of luggage as if he had just returned from war.
“Cash, I’m so sorry, dude,” Topher said.
Cash looked up and glared at him through the rearview mirror.
“What did we learn?”
Chapter Nine
THE WORLD’S BIGGEST RUBBER-BAND BALL
Topher sped down the highway, eager to leave the chaos of McCarthy’s in the past. He felt terrible for not helping Cash avoid the situation, but didn’t know how he could have foreseen it. The anguished driver repeatedly apologized to the actor to squash any hard feelings that might have been forming.
“Once again, I am so sorry for turning you into a human photo op,” Topher said. “I won’t let that happen again.”
“Will you stop apologizing?” Cash said. “How were you supposed to know they’d come at me like piranhas? I’ve gotten stuck for a lot longer in worse places. This one time, I was at a checkout in an Ikea for eight hours.”
“You were taking pictures for eight hours?” Mo asked.
“Nope—I was just buying a lamp. Ba-da-bum!”
Cash laughed wildly at his own joke and Topher was relieved to see he was in good spirits. The actor had been in a much better mood after taking two white pills from his backpack. Whether they were for pain or anxiety, nobody asked, but they figured it was warranted after the ordeal at the diner.
At roughly a quarter to four o’clock, and two hundred and twenty miles into their trip, the car passed Exit 178B and Topher knew they were getting close to their first roadside attraction.
“We’re almost at the world’s biggest rubber-band ball!” he announced.
Cash looked out the window but all he saw were fields and trees. “How do you know that? I didn’t see a sign.”
“I’ve got the entire route memorized,” Topher said. “We just passed Exit 178B and the world’s biggest rubber-band ball is off Exit 180A. It should be coming up in a couple minutes.”
“You memorized the exit numbers?” Cash asked in disbelief.
“Topher’s got one of those brains,” Sam said. “He took more AP classes than anyone else at school and was valedictorian of our class.”
“Thank God, too, because none of us would have passed Algebra 2 if he didn’t tutor us,” Mo added.
“Color me impressed,” Cash said. “Where are you planning to go to college, Toph? Are you gonna be one of those Ivy League hotshots?”
“Not exactly. I’m staying in Downers Grove to get my GE and I’ll transfer later. I’ll get to save money that way and I can help my mom with my little brother—he’s got cerebral palsy.”
“Topher’s the best brother in the world,” Joey bragged. “And I would know—I have two older and two younger ones. But we don’t treat each other with an ounce of the compassion Topher has for Billy.”
“In that case, I call dibs to the film rights of your life story,” Cash said. “What does the future hold for the rest of you? College? Peace Corps? Sea Org?”
“I’m going to the Rhode Island School of Design,” Sam said.
“Stanford,” Mo said.
“Fancy. What about you, Joey?”
“I’ll be majoring in performing arts at Oklahoma Baptist University,” he said.
“You’re going to Oklahoma to study performing arts? Isn’t that like going to Florida State to be a ski instructor?”
“Well…” Joey paused as he came up with a defense. “It’s a really great program, it won’t be too far from home, and a lot of talent has come out of Oklahoma—Brad Pitt, Blake Edwards, Kristin Chenoweth, James Marsden.”
“I suppose you’re right,” Cash said. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to shit on your parade, you clearly know what you’re doing. I imagine it’ll be hard meeting other gay people at a Baptist school, though.”
Joey suddenly sat straight up in his seat like he had been electrocuted. “I’m not gay,” he said.
Cash was stunned, as if Joey had just denied being African-American. He looked to Joey’s friends, but they didn’t second-guess the objection.
“My bad,” Cash said. “I meant it as a compliment. You look like you take care of yourself and seem really put together—like most gay people I know. I probably misread the whole performing arts thing.”
“Compliment accepted,” Joey said with a nervous laugh. “By the way, speaking of school, that reminds me, I have to attend this stupid registration meeting tomorrow night in Oklahoma City.”
“A meeting? This early before the semester?” Topher questioned.