I'm always apologizing! I'm so sorry! I started college a couple weeks ago so I've been incredibly busy. Funny story, Ferris Bueller's Day Off actually came on TV today and I suddenly remembered that I had a story to finish! I definitely have plans to finish this story, I just don't see the end coming very soon. I'm counting on (possibly) wrapping this story up in late October/early November if all goes well! Maybe even early October! I really want to see this through to the end. Thank you for everyone who is still reading and reviewing, I love you all! Enjoy crazy Wendy! (P.S. I'm completely delirious at this time of night so I didn't proofread, bear with me)


As if we haven't been through enough already, guess who's outside when we open the door to leave? Ferris' fucking father.

We quickly maneuver around him and a group of strict, suit-clad businessmen. The entire time, Cameron is mumbling under his breath about how we should all surrender to Mr. Bueller and accept whatever punishment there is. I absolutely refuse to be taken down at this point. I've been through too much shit today to just throw myself at some man's feet, begging and crying for forgiveness. Besides, my parents would gut me and Doug would never let me live this down.

Oh, how I hate that prick.

Ferris shoves us all into the backseat and slams the door, shouting to the cabbie something that I can't make out with my face shoved into the leather of the seat with someone's armpit on my neck. The cab takes off with us four tangled around one another.

"Can you let me up?" I ask. But with my face in the seat, it sounds like gibberish. I wiggle beneath my friends and eventually gather myself into the seat by the window, right behind the driver. "That was not cool, Ferris."

"I did what was necessary."

I roll my eyes and sigh, "Christ."

Somehow, we end up at a Cubs game. I win a raffle in the stands and receive a free jersey and a baseball cap. I remove my jean jacket and scarf and slip the jersey on over my tee shirt, it's oversized but comfy. I put the cap on backwards (managing to tuck all of my hair into it), put on my sunglasses and kick my feet up onto the empty bench in front of us. Absentmindedly, I stick my hand into my bag of popcorn and scoop up a handful.

Sloane takes a piece of popcorn from the cluster in my palm and pops it into her mouth. Then she goes right back to writing things on what looks to be some kind of paper scoreboard. It's best not to bother her when she's in the zone.

I've decided that I've had enough of boys for right now, so I sit in between Sloane and an empty seat. Ferris and Cameron sit on the other side of Sloane, being obnoxious. I just bask in the sunlight and the Cubs, who are currently losing.

Cameron hasn't said a word to me since lunch. I don't think it's because I freaked him out this time. We've just had no real chance to have a conversation since being shoved into the car by Ferris.

Ah, Ferris. The light of my goddamn life.

"Do you realize that if we played by the rules, right now we'd be in gym?" asks Ferris. I dread the thought of gym class. I can't tell if he's talking to both Cameron and I or just Cameron.

Cameron chuckles, "With Coach B chewing our heads off? Yeah, I'd realized that."

"He only "chews your head off" when you don't jog during warm-up," I say without looking away from the game. "You never jog in gym, Ferris."

Ferris leans forward and acutely glares at me. "Words, courtesy of the peanut gallery. Thank you."

"Any time," I reply, shrugging and popping a piece of popcorn into my mouth. I quickly shoot up and out of my seat when a player from the Cubs hits a home run. Great! The team still sucks, but, hey, you've gotta have baseball spirit. With my popcorn bag in hand, I throw my arms into the air and cheer along with a few others in the stands. Not that many people had shown up today, the stands are virtually empty.

Ferris and Cameron had shot up as well. They pump their fists into the air and high-five one another and a few other Cubs fans in the stands behind us. Pretty much everyone seems pleased, with the exception of a few rival team fans scattered around.

"What a load of bullshit!" a man, balding, shouts.

"This game is rigged!"

I roll my eyes. To actually think that the game is rigged. "Pft," I sigh.

"Hey! You got a problem?" I have no idea who he's talking to, so I pay him no mind. "I'm talking to you, little girl!"

I raise an eyebrow and turn around to see him tensed two rows behind me. He has risen from his seat on the bench and stands with his fists clenched at his sides. The man wears a backwards baseball cap of the rival team and a jersey, face-paint making him look more like a child than a grown man.

"It's baseball," I simply reply, turning back to the game.

"It's baseball." he mocks.

"Yup," I say, popping the 'p'. "Just baseball. Don't raise your blood pressure over a game, buddy."

"What did you just say?"

"Stewart! Don't you dare!"

I turn back around to see a woman and another man restraining the angry, balding man. Cameron, Ferris and Sloane have all turned around now, watching the same scene as me. Sloane puts her hand on mine protectively, as if this man is going to do anything without passing out from exertion.

"Were you really going to hit a little girl?" I taunt, putting my elbows on the backboard of the bench and leaning on my hands. I crack the biggest, most innocent smile that I possibly can.

Ferris cackles in his aisle seat, holding his stomach in his painful bout of laughter. Cameron's eyes have gone wide with fear. Sloane puts her hand on my shoulder and tells me to stop egging him on.

"Shouldn't you be in school, princess?" shouts the man, still fighting to break free from the woman and the other man. "Shouldn't you be studying?"

I fake amazement, clapping my hands slowly. "Wow, I almost didn't think that the word 'school' was in your vocabulary! Now, say it with me: ed-u-ca-tion."

Some people around stifle a laugh while others openly show their contempt for a stupid, immature high school student cracking jokes at a grown man. I think for only a second that I should feel guilty, but I don't.

And, for some reason, that comment really sets him off. I couldn't care any less. Honestly, I'm getting quite the thrill from this. I almost wish that I had something to remember this moment.

The man breaks free from the woman and uses his free hand to grab his fountain drink and toss it at me. The cup lands on my head and opens, spilling soda all over me, the person behind me and Sloane's purse that she had put between us. I sit in shock. I now have sticky soda stains to remind me of this moment. Be careful what you wish for, kids.

The people around me go silent. Someone gasps and I think someone else runs to get security. Sloane quickly wets a napkin and wipes off her bag. She wets another and begins to wipe off my face, but quickly recoils when I push her hand away. I don't want her to be near me when I completely flip shit.

"Son of a bitch," I whisper, liquid dripping all over me. "Son of a bitch!" I jump up from my seat, getting as far as the row behind me before someone grabs me around the waist and pulls me away. I kick and scream obscenities at the man, grabbing my soggy popcorn bag and throwing it at him.

"Come on, Wen! Before security gets ahold of you!" Cameron furiously whispers in my ear.

I simmer down—knowing that it's Cameron's touch and Cameron's voice—just enough for him to lead me off of the stands and onto the stairs. Sloane grabs my other clothes and follows behind us.

"You'd better watch it next time, bitch!"

That sets something off inside of me again. I wheel around and bound up the steps, Cameron catching me around the waist and pulling back. "You fucking pig! You're a walking sack of diabe—" Cameron wrenches me away and carries me down the stairs. I pick and pull at his hands wrapped around my waist. This is not how I wanted it.

As we reach the bottom of the steps and the exit, I notice the man bickering with security. One of the guards grabs his arm and escorts him to the exit at the top of the stairs. Ha fucking ha.

Cameron finally sets me down when we exit the stands. I walk off, ripping the baseball cap off of my head and angrily throwing it to the ground. "Fucking prick," I mutter, continuing toward the restrooms.

I stand in front of the mirror in the bathroom. My jersey is stained brown from the soda, but it's the only thing ruined by the flying drink. I peel off the jersey and throw it in the sink. My white tee-shirt and shorts are perfectly fine. And, thank God I tucked my hair into that baseball cap.

I wash my arms with soap and water before blotting them dry with a few paper towels. I don't even bother taking the stained jersey, I'll have to explain how it got it if my mother finds it in the hamper.

When I leave the restroom, everyone is standing outside, waiting for me. Sloane hands me the jean jacket and scarf, which I quickly put back on.

"That guy was right," I say, wrapping the circle scarf around my neck. "I'm sorry that I'm a bitch. I screw everything up."

Ferris slings his arm around my shoulder. "You're alright, Wendy Halifax."

I raise an eyebrow and grin slightly. "Thanks, Ferris." I turn to face Sloane and put a hand on her shoulder. "Sorry about the bag."

She shakes her head, smiling. "I wiped it all off. It's nothing."

Cameron and I hang back while Sloane and Ferris walk in front of us. I put my sunglasses on top of my head and slip my hands into the pockets of my shorts, kicking my feet along the gravel outside of the stadium.

"Hey, Cam," I say.

He look down at me, eyebrows raised, awaiting my response. "Yeah, Wen?"

"I just wanted to say... sorry... for the way I acted. I'm sorry that you had to see me like that."

Cameron shrugs. "Rightfully so, I think."

I stop short, Cameron doing the same. My eyebrows furrow together in confusion. "Really?"

"Well, he did throw his drink at you. He's a grown man. He shouldn't have done that."

I crack a goofy smile. "So, let's get this right. Cameron Frye thinks that my violent behavior was justified? Cameron Frye, the pacifist, thinks that almost gouging that man's eyes out was justified?"

"Hey, hey, I didn't say all of that," he chuckles. "I just think that you saw a lot of red. You rightfully saw a lot of red. I didn't say that gouging his eyeballs out would have been justified."

I shrug, smiling. "I'll take it, Frye."

He laughs, "Okay, Wen."

This is the perfect timing. The perfect time to just spill everything while we're both laughing about soda stains on my baseball jersey, while we're both talking, while we're both happy. But, part of me thinks that I shouldn't ruin this moment. Things aren't awkward. He isn't avoiding me.

So, for the first time in my life, I keep my fucking mouth shut. And it pains me.

We hail the third cab of the day and climb inside. I get stuck in the passenger's seat again, but I don't mind it this time. I need some space to collect my thoughts and get myself back in order. And, mostly because I don't want anyone near me when I take my insulin.

"We had better go and get the car," Cameron says.

The day has been so eventful that I had forgotten about the car.

"We have until six," replies Ferris, his arm around Sloane.

Cameron rolls his eyes. "I know you don't care, but it does mean my ass."

Oh, harsh. I felt that one.

Ferris' jaw drops. "That hurts, Cameron." He leans forward and looks at Cameron. "What have you seen today?"

Cameron grunts, "Nothing good."

Ferris is in complete shock, his mouth agape like a fish out of water. "Nothing! What do you mean, "nothing good"? We've seen everything good, we've seen the whole city! We went to the museum and saw priceless works of art! We went to a fancy restaurant!" Ferris is using his hands to talk. "We—we had pancreas?"

There is muttering and shifting in the backseat. I turn back to see that Ferris and Cameron are on the floor while Sloane wears Ferris' sunglasses, completely still. I don't even wonder about what is going on until I see Ferris' dad in the taxi cab beside us. Quickly, I slip on my sunglasses and turn to face the cabbie.

"What's he doing?" whispers Ferris.

"He's licking the glass," answers Sloane. "And making obscene gestures with his hands." Then Sloane begins laughing like a madwoman.

"I think that your dad is onto us," I say.