"OK, what's the big deal here?" the manager of the Alexandria motel complained, bustling across the second level towards what had been booked as Ferris's room.

"Ed wants you to look in and confirm his theory Ferris Bueller isn't it there," Grace explained, gesturing at the scowling principal.

"Look mac, you were on me last night over it, and like I told you then, I can't invade the privacy of our guests without just cause. And listen, he's still snoring away in there," the manager pointed at the door, behind which loud snoring could be heard.

"And did you actually see him go into that room!?" Rooney grilled him.

"Well, no..."

"Then it's an obvious recording in there. As principal of Shermer High, I demand you take a look," Rooney ordered him, not noticing a sleek black car slowly pulling in behind the motel.

"And I told you before, the answer's no," the manager shook his head firmly.

"Fine, then I'll do it! If you want it done right, you have to do it yourself!" Rooney roared, "Stand clear," he waved Grace and the other teachers away from Ferris's door, "This door is coming down in ten seconds, and then we'll see exactly what we have here!"

"Impressive, Ed; you sound just like that Bambo guy," Grace commended him with a smile.

"RAMBO, Grace! Stand back..."

"You break that door, buddy, you bought it," the manager warned him. Rooney paid no heed and gave the door a sharp kick...and immediately let out a howl and hopped backwards clutching his foot in agony...backwards, in fact, right over the second floor railing, where he landed inside the motel's dumpster. Barely three seconds later, the room door creaked open. "Is something wrong out here?" Ferris, wearing only a T-shirt and underwear, stuck his head out, "I thought I heard people shouting..."

"Oh, nothing at all, Ferris; Mr. Rooney was just espousing some conspiracy theories, that's all," Mr. Jacobson told him, glaring over the railing at Rooney stumbling around in the dumpster, "Are you feeling better today?"

"Oh much better," Ferris flashed a big smile, "I think it was gas rather than an actual burst appendix. I'm all raring to go today."

"Oh that's wonderful," Grace clapped her hands in delight, "I'd hate to see any student get bedridden on...ED!" she cried down below, where the garbage truck had arrived and was dumping the dumpster, with Rooney in it, into its back. "Wait, stop!" the school secretary cried, "Don't throw Ed out! He's too valuable a principal to end up in the dump!"

The garbage truck instead gunned its engine and pulled out into the street with Rooney still in the back. The manager rolled his eyes in disgust. "If she catches up to him, tell him not to bother me about this kid again when clearly he's been here the whole time," he pointed at Ferris, "If he keeps it up, I may have to dump all of you to the curb."

"Don't worry, I'll make sure it's the last time you're bothered about it," Mr. Jacobson assured him. "Better get dressed, Ferris, we'll be heading out for the National Air and Space Museum in fifteen minutes," he told the boy.

"Great, Mr. Jacobson; I've wanted to really see that," Ferris told him with faux eagerness, "Say, tell Mr. Steinberg I'd love to hear him give a lecture on the history of flight."

"Well, I'll tell him you said that. Excuse me, got to get Mr. Rooney out of the garbage, much as he probably deserves being stuck in it," Mr. Jacobson shook his head in disgust and ran down the stairs after Grace. Ferris closed the door and breathed a sigh of relief. "I'm sure you're all wondering how I managed to get back in the room in time," he glanced back away from the door, "Well, some things in life are best left to the imagination, so I'll let you figure it out on your own. Meanwhile, thanks to Mr. Rooney putting himself out of the picture for now, that leaves the door wide open for another great day. So why don't we skip ahead here to the museum...?"


"Hello, remember me?" he tapped Jerry on the shoulder outside the National Air and Space Museum fifteen minutes later. "Ferris, good to see you again," Jerry greeted him, "Where'd you get to? Did you...?"

"In fact, we do have some new info, and some highly placed allies on our side now," Ferris told him, "I'll tell you about it in person in a moment; for now, spread the word to everyone else: prepare to head outside once we give the signal."

"What's the...?" Jerry started to ask him, but Ferris had already started bustling off to the other side of the crowd of students heading into the museum. "Class, can I have your attention please?" came Mr. Steinberg's monotone drawl from the center of the lobby, "May I have...class, can I have...?"

"Shhhhh!" Ferris hissed at his fellow seniors, which brought them to silence. Better to keep an appearance of normalcy until the right time, he knew. "Thank you, Bueller," Mr. Steinberg thanked him, his voice not changing pitch at all. "All right, class, as Ferris has told me I was doing a great job earlier, I'll try and go a little more in-depth today-trust me, you'll thank me for it later," he said in response to a number of loud groans, "So pay attention, class, I'm going into full detail on the displays you'll see here today."

"Think happy thoughts and block him out, pass it on," Ferris whispered softly to the girl next to him in the crowd. He took a deep breath as Mr. Steinberg began, "As you can see, class, we're standing in the lobby of the National Air and Space Museum. America's honorable heritage of being the first in various forms of flight is something that should be celebrated, and as you'll go through the museum with me, you'll learn many, many interesting facts. All right, if you'll look directly overhead," he pointed above them, "You'll see the Wright Brothers' Flyer, the very first plane to ever verifiably obtain unaided flight. In December 1903, Orville and Wilbur Wright, who in their normal lives were...anyone?...anyone?...bicycle salesmen, put all their previous years' efforts into this flying machine above you now. Their interest had started when Wilbur had written to the Smithsonian in the late 1890s asking for any and all information concerning flight; Orville joined him in the project soon afterwards. As it was, the head of the Smithsonian at the time was also trying flight experiments of his own. Anyone know his name, anyone? Anyone? Samuel Langley. And anyone know what's named in his honor for this attempt at flight, anyone? Langley Air Force Base. Langley had built a flying machine of his own; anyone know what he called it, anyone? Anyone? Anyone? An aerodrome. Twice, right before the Wright Brothers' flight, he attempted to fly the aerodrome. Anyone know how that turned out, anyone? Anyone? Both times, the plane immediately crashed into the river, and scientists today believe it would have been too heavy to fly anyway. Meanwhile, Orville and Wilbur had tested their theories of flight on the Kitty Hawk beaches with, anyone know what, anyone? Plane-shaped kites. They also used a rudimentary...anyone? Anyone? Anyone? An early wind tunnel to determine wind resistance and other key...key components of flight. It was Orville who would have the...the honor of flying the...the...the..."

His head slumped down, and he started snoring. This time his lecture had been so dull that he'd actually put himself to sleep. A few of the other students were snoring too, unable to have effectively heeded Ferris's warnings. Nonetheless, he knew it was time to exit the supervised part of the field trip. "Head quietly for the door, pass it on too," he told the girl next to him, then quickly walked for it, thus being the first one outside. "OK, Shermer High senior class," he announced out loud once everyone was outside, "We'll come back here on our own time later on. But for now, I'd like to introduce you to a very special girl named Natalie; you've probably heard of her," he pointed to the first of a long line of limousines parked in front of the museum, where Natalie stuck her head out of the door and waved, to cheers and a few cat calls. "Today happens to be her birthday, so I agreed that we could all celebrate it with her," Ferris continued, "So, if you'll all go about eight to a limo, we've got tickets for this morning's Washington Nationals game with the Cubs to help start the celebration, which will conclude this evening at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, which, I'm happy to say, she's gratefully agreed to let us stay at while her father's away trying to help the cause of the Free World."

An even louder cheer rose up as the senior class rushed for the limousines. Ferris scanned the crowd for Jerry, spotted him, and held up his hand to wave him to Natalie's limousine. He did the same for Sloane and Cameron to his right. "Jerry Greenfield, meet Natalie Simmons, who I guess you know well," he introduced them to each other as the limo pulled forward into the street, "We happened to cross paths last night. Jerry's the one I told you about we're trying to get justice for, Natalie."

"Nice to meet you," Natalie shook Jerry's hand, "Jerry Greenfield...just like the ice cream salesman..."

"Yeah, I do get that a lot," Jerry admitted, "So you're really going to try and help?" he asked her, amazed she would.

"Once Ferris and the others told me your story, I wanted to. My father may have lost touch with wanting to assist the average citizens, but I haven't. So tell me the whole story as you saw it unfold," she asked him. Jerry took a deep breath and once more related everything he'd told Ferris before. "So thanks to all that, my family's in bad straits, and I might have to give up college," he concluded grimly, "I want to believe Senator Tannen ordered the attack on my dad so the neighborhood could be leveled and rebuilt, and he could secretly profit off it. I hope we can get solid proof of some kind."

"Well, we found a few things of interest in fact, Jerry," Ferris reached under the seat for the print-outs from the other night, "We were able to tap into Tannen's phone records (Jerry shuffled about uncomfortably in his seat at such a major breach of law, but remained silent). He made seven separate calls to Ronald Prince around the time your father was being pressured to sell, as well as one on the night before you said the attack took place. Now of course we can't tell what was said on those calls a year and a half after the fact, But Natalie has volunteered to try and tap his office phone and his computer, with your permission."

"Uh, well...I don't know," Jerry seemed torn, "Unauthorized wiretaps by the president's daughter just doesn't seem right..."

"Yeah, I see why you might see it that way. But you and everyone else that has been run out of that neighborhood, and anyone else who might have been hurt in similar schemes, deserves justice. I'll stay reasonably within the bounds of morality, I promise," Natalie insisted. Jerry still looked uncertain, but gave a soft nod. "OK then. Another item of note: Tannen made two calls over a six month period last year to an address on the South Side that officially is an abandoned building," Ferris continued, pointing to the calls in question, "We checked Chicago police reports; that was a hideout spot for the man fingered by the informant my sister and her sort-of boyfriend questioned yesterday, Wilson Karkovice. Looking over his files in the Chicago P.D., he seems likely to have been the assailant of your father. Now you said he told the police the leader of the thugs who attacked him was a tall man with dark hair and bushy eyebrows?"

"Yeah?"

"You think this is him?" Ferris held up a photo of Karkovice they'd printed off the Chicago Police's Wanted page. Jerry squinted hard at it. "He certainly matches what Dad said the leader looked like," he nodded hesitantly.

"OK, then we at least have verifiable probable cause that Tannen at least communicated with the assault team," Ferris surmised, "Of course, the problem is proving Karkovice was on the other end of the line at the time these calls were made. Now my sister also found that it's likely Karkovice got payment from Tannen's brother, who runs the biggest downtown bank in Chicago. That makes sense; with millions of dollars changing hands there every day, hit money can be taken out or buried without anybody noticing, especially if no one's looking for it there."

"And, being a powerful politician, Tannen could easily bribe the SEC to look the other way any time," Cameron snorted across the limo, "So basically, we've got the essential outline of everyone involved in forcibly redeveloping the neighborhood," he told Jerry, "Now the problem is tying Tannen and his brother to Karkovice and Ronald Prince and anyone else who may have been peripherally involved, and prove they all worked together in a concerted effect to profit from forcing people out of their houses."

"And fortunately, we have a plan," Sloane grinned, "Because Cameron's going to have my father, as it were, call up Ronald Prince and set some chaos in motion later today."

"Huh?" Jerry frowned, "What's your father got to do with it?"

"Uh...you'll see. I, uh, can do his voice reasonably well," Cameron admitted softly.

"Oh, you're a voice actor?" Natalie asked him, intrigued, making Cameron shrink down in his seat in nervousness, "That's really impressive. I'd love to watch when you try it."

"Uh, maybe," Cameron mumbled, glancing desperately at Ferris to bail him out. Ferris merely shook his head softly at him with a smile of his own. He tapped the divider between the front and back seat. "You got all that, Jim?" he asked the assistant deputy director of media relations. The barrier rolled down. "Yeah, I listened in good," Jim stuck his head through the slot, "And while we were waiting for everyone to come out, I called Tannen's secretary and asked for his schedule, telling her we wanted to know so we could offer help to coordinate for when he officially announces he's running for president. He's in session till about six in the Capitol, then he'll be off to a big fundraising dinner with all the party bigwigs at nine. Then she says he'll be unavailable overnight; that could mean any number of things, so we'll keep an eye on that."

"Got it. Of course, then, we'll have to find out exactly what kind of cell phone he uses, then stop by a phone store and pick up an exact replica," Ferris nodded. "Natalie and I can get into his office phone and computer easy enough, but when we made a preliminary attempt his cell phone, it was too heavily encrypted," he told Jerry, "I can only guess he's too paranoid with it. So we decided the best option was to buy a lookalike cell phone, encode it to be tapped, and make a switch at some point, then set things in motion so he'll be calling his accomplices."

"Isn't that a bit risky?" Jerry looked uncertain.

"That's what I told them, but I was overruled," Cameron shook his head, "In short, there's a thousand and one ways this whole plan can go wrong..."

"But if we play our cards right, it can bring down a whole load of corrupt people," Ferris countered. "And I asked Jeannie to check out Bert Tannen's bank office and see if they can find anything there without getting caught. If they're successful, there's a chance we might have enough to bring their downfall into motion."

"Uh, yeah, that's one other thing; Tannen's making the formal announcement of his run for the White House tomorrow at noon in front of the Executive Mansion," Jim pointed out, "His secretary told me that much on the phone. After he makes that announcement, he's bound to have loads of people destroying everything even remotely incriminating; I've seen how this town works. So we do have to make it work now while there's still evidence to find."

"I know. Nothing like a ticking clock to work against," Ferris shook his head. "But, let's not worry about that now," he declared, "Because it's Natalie's birthday, and I promised her a great time in exchange for her help, starting with the great American pastime..."


"Again, you only have yourself to blame, Ed," Mr. Jacobson scolded Rooney, who was storming out of the taxi they'd hailed from the Washington landfill in front of the Air and Space Museum, "If you hadn't been so vehement in continuing your ridiculous crusade against Ferris..."

"I swear I saw him at the Lincoln Memorial yesterday when he was supposed to be back in his room with a burst appendix or whatever he said it was now," Rooney growled, "If he hadn't pulled trickery on me, I would have had him. This was a seven thousand dollar suit," he gestured in disgust at his garbage-covered apparel, "And it's coming out of his paycheck to clean it up. And if I don't see five hundred and thirty-seven students in this museum, not a single one of them will graduate, and Ferris will be banished permanently from school property...OH COME ON!" he roared in disgust at the sight of Mr. Steinberg standing sound asleep in the middle of the lobby, other guests walking by him without noticing. "Hmm, I didn't know Ben was that tired," Grace quipped behind the men, "He seemed to sleep well last night..."

"Shut it!" Rooney thrust a hand at her. He bustled to the front desk. "I'm the principal of Shermer High School; where did all the students who were with that man go?" he demanded to the cashier, jerking a finger at the snoring Mr. Steinberg.

"Oh, they all walked out the door and left in limousines," the cashier told him matter of factually, "It looks like Natalie Simmons of all people was taking them some place..."

"Simmons?" Rooney's eyebrows shot up, "And you never thought to wake him up and stop them!?" he gestured back at Mr. Steinberg.

"Well, they seemed safe with Secret Service vehicles following them, and besides, he's not really hurting anyone there," the cashier pointed at the sleeping teacher, "In fact, he looks kind of cute like that..."

Groaning, Rooney stomped up to Mr. Steinberg. "WAKE UP!" he screamed in the teacher's ear. Mr. Steinberg awoke with a snort. "So as I was saying, class," he jumped back into the end of his lecture, "Orville Wright made the first successful flight of, anyone know how long, anyone? Any...?"

He slowly glanced around, finally noticing all his students were gone. "Uh oh," he mumbled softly. He turned slowly to his boss. "They must have gotten bored and walked out. I hope you're not mad at me, Ed."

Rooney screamed in frustration. "Come on!" he grabbed Mr. Steinberg by the tie and dragged him towards the door, "We're going to search this whole city from top to bottom until we find every last one of them, and then I'm revoking every single one of their diplomas for...!"

"No you're not, Ed," Mr. Jacobson blocked the door on him, frowning, "This time you're going to let it go and let these kids enjoy this trip."

"Tom, you've got till five to get out of my way, or your son's not going to UCLA!" Rooney threatened him.

"I don't see how you can yank that scholarship, Ed, so I'm not budging for you on that," his underling folded his arms defiantly across his chest, "And really, so what if Ferris Bueller's actually doing the things you insist he is? The way you've treated him and half the kids in this school, maybe you deserve another good hard slap in the face from him. So here's what's going to happen: you go off on your mad crusade, and once you leave, I'll call Corey and see what's going on. But don't think I'm going to tell you a word about what he says. And as long as it is on the level, if you do anything to try and punish him or ruin his experience here, then you're going to have to answer to me as a father and not a teacher," he leaned right in Rooney's face, "And you're really not going to like it if I have to do that, Ed."

"I hate you!" Rooney snarled back at him, "The moment this trip is over, you're fired!"

"Like I told you back in Chicago, Ed, nobody on the school board supports you anymore. So any attempt to fire me is going to be overridden in a heartbeat. In the meantime, go right ahead, Ed," Mr. Jacobson stepped aside and gestured at the door, "Go on out there and try and hunt Ferris down. Go ahead and make a fool of yourself again. From now on, I'm not going to stop you-and I'm also not going to help you when it rebounds back in your face. Go on, Ed, go try and get him. Isn't that what you want?"

Glaring coldly, Rooney pushed past him and stomped towards the curb, where he hailed down another cab. "Are you sure we shouldn't stop him?" Mr. Steinberg frowned at their boss's departing backside.

"Nope, Ben, clearly he's got to find out for himself," Mr. Jacobson shook his head, "And personally, I hope when he comes back to the motel, he's in even worse shape than he was this morning." He dug out his cell phone, "Now, let's see what Corey says the actual story here is..."


"Ladies and gentlemen, at this time, we'd like to take this opportunity to honor a special guest at this game who is celebrating a very important day today," the Nationals Park public address announcer declared, "You've seen her on TV during her father's campaigns, and today she's turning eighteen. Would you all please stand up and join us in wishing a happy birthday to America's sweetheart, the Frist Daughter herself, Natalie Simmons!"

Ferris stood up and joined in the applause that rolled through the stadium-joined by a fife and drum band marching onto the field playing the Happy Birthday song, and punctuated by a squadron of jets flying overhead, trailing rainbow-colored exhausts. He nodded; everyone who he'd called the night before had come through-including, he saw, the caterers, who were pushing a massive seven-tiered birthday cake towards home plate. "As I always say, you can never go too far, especially when it comes to someone else's happiness," he looked backwards, as if discussing it with someone else, "And best of all," he pulled the familiar piece of paper out of his pocket, "It's all going on Mr. Rooney's credit card."

He pocketed the paper again and sat back down in his seat. To his right, Natalie was visibly touched by everything. "Thank you, Ferris," she reached over and squeezed his shoulder gratefully, "This is better than I could have ever imagined."

"Everyone should get to feel extra special on their birthday," Ferris told her with a smile. He loaned close to Sloane's ear and whispered, "Take as many photos of all this and everything we do later, then get her father's Facebook and Twitter account from Jim and send them there. Maybe this'll shame him into realizing how bad he screwed up missing out on this. While it may be too late for Cameron's dad-he squandered his last chance by pulling that gun on him over the Ferrari as far as I'm concerned-I think President Simmons may still have some hope of redemption in him if we hit the right notes on him."

"I hope so," Sloane agreed, raising her cell phone and clicking a picture of Natalie accepting a very large slice of cake from the caterers, who then passed more slices down the row. Ferris took one of his own, then checked to make sure Natalie's attention was distracted before pulling a wrapped gift out of his pocket and tapping Cameron on the back. "To her, from you," he whispered, handing him the package.

"Ferris, I can't. It's not right, and it'll never measure up...!" Cameron hissed back, trying to push it back.

"You'll never be good enough for any girl if you keep thinking you aren't good enough for any of them. Now go on, give it to her!" Ferris stressed, pushing it back to his friend.

"But I...!" Cameron tried to protest again, but it was at this moment Natalie saw the present. "Oh, is that for me too? Thank you, Cameron," she told him, taking it off him with a smile and opening it up. "Oh, it's beautiful!" she exclaimed, holding up a large moonstone ring. "Thank you so much, Cameron," she gave him a hug, "This was so sweet of you."

"Um...uh... um...uh..." Cameron mumbled, looking like he was ready to faint.

"Yeah, I'd say it was," Jim leaned over from the row behind them, giving Ferris a knowing wink. Ferris returned it, glad the downtown jewelry store he'd called had also come through. "I guess that means he really has feeling for you, Nat."

"I guess so," Natalie happily slipped the ring on and gave Cameron another hug, "I'll remember this always, Cameron."

"Uh...glad to know," Cameron whimpered, looking stunned that this was all happening to him. It was at that moment, though, that Ferris's attention was distracted by his cell phone making a police siren noise. "Everyone, shh, Tannen's using his office phone!" he alerted his co-conspirators, waving them close. He hit the speaker button and set the audio at an appropriate level. "Hello?" the senator's voice could be heard speaking on his end of the phone.

"Hey, Bob, it's Coakley," came the voice of Illinois's most powerful coal baron, "Want you to know, we did another scan; that new vein's even bigger than we thought. So I'm upping the offer to seven hundred fifty thousand."

"Really?" Tannen sounded amazed, "You're really desperate to turn a profit from this vein, Jimmy."

"With everyone switching to renewables, I've been losing money fast; this vein should stabilize my bank account if I get to mine it. Problem is, we've got half a dozen holdouts who won't sell, and the DEP guy's blocking my attempts to get a mining permit in the state park. I've taken your advice and called the people you said know how to take care of these things..."

"Just be careful about it, Jimmy," Tannen warned him, "I'm making my announcement for the presidency tomorrow; the last thing I need is any hint of a scandal to sink the campaign before it starts. Yeah, have them take care of it, but no cripples or dead bodies. Once I'm in the Oval Office, I'll make sure the Department of Environmental Protection never bothers you or anyone in your field again, and we can crow that we created loads of jobs in the process."

"Sounds good to me. So I guess that's a yes?" Coakley asked him.

"Tell you what, Jimmy; call my brother and appraise him of the situation," Tannen said evasively, as if paranoid that he was being recorded in the first place, "He'll know where to go from here. Can't talk much more right now; I was arguing a business deregulation bill on the floor, and had to cut out when I got the message you were on the line. They think I'm in the bathroom, so I'd better get back out there. Bye, Jimmy."

The line cut off. "Very interesting," Ferris mused, "He was carefully enough not to say anything too incriminating, but this does hint he's accepting bribes on top of everything else, and this does implicate Bert Tannen to some degree. We'll text Jeannie after the game and tell her and Garth to look extra deep when they stop by his office...yes, yes, go back, back, YEAH!" he cheered towards the field as the Cubs' shortstop blasted a home run over the centerfield fence. "World Series, here we come!" he declared, high fiving an equally delighted Cameron.

"Well, I'm a White Sox fan myself, so I wouldn't mind a city series, then," Jim piped up, nonetheless, giving the shortstop a polite applause as he crossed home plate.

"Dad always took me to Tigers games as a girl, so I'd be pulling for them," Natalie said, happily accepting the shortstop's bat when he trotted over to their seats, "But this easily tops any of their games I was at."

Ferris grinned and leaned back in his seat. So far, the day was going perfectly. Hopefully it would continue that way.


"And there we go," Mrs. Bueller said with great finality back in Chicago, signing her name to a set of documents in her realty office, "We can consider the Vermont deal officially complete. I hope you both enjoy your new home," she handed the paperwork back to the relieved couple across from her and shook their hands, "Have a nice day," she walked to the door and held it open for them, then bustled over to one of her co-workers in the corner. "All done, Joyce, finally," she told the woman, handing the documents to her, "I was so glad they decided to give us another chance after it fell apart earlier. Now I can put off wringing Jeannie's neck, at least for now."

"Great to know, Katie. You're not the best one here for nothing. Look at this," Joyce pointed at the TV screen in front of her, which showed a very happy Natalie in her seat at Nationals Park-with Ferris cut off out of frame to the right-"Someone's throwing the president's daughter a big party at the ball game. Boy, her father must really love her to do that."

"Or somebody does. You know, I wish Ferris could be enjoying that as well," Mrs. Bueller lamented as the camera cut back to the field, "But knowing the way that Mr. Rooney runs his school, he's probably got Ferris and the others running sprints around the National Mall's perimeter all week."

"Oh I know, the man's a nut job," Joyce agreed, "My daughter graduated two years ago; Rooney was all over her for no good reason after she missed three days with bronchitis. He has no patience for any of the kids there."

"Two months ago, he called me up insisting Ferris was skipping school on a day he was sick. He pushed that phony narrative even after I went back home to check and saw him in bed myself. The school would be better if...oh, hold that thought, Joyce," Mrs. Bueller turned towards her now ringing phone. She bustled back to her desk, just as the TV cut to a reporter starting to interview Ferris in the front row (also unseen by Joyce, who got up to use the bathroom). "Hello?" she said into the phone.

"Afternoon, honey," her husband greeted her on the other end, "How's the morning going?"

"I finally closed the Vermont deal, Tom, thank god," she breathed a deep sigh of relief, her back squarely to the TV and Ferris's image.

"Good. Now we don't have to shoot Jeannie after all," Mr. Bueller breathed his own sigh of relief, "I've had a tougher morning myself; Mr. Shirley went off the wall when we got the report that sales for the last quarter were way down. He didn't single me out, but my department might take a hit. So we've got to work around that. Anyway, you up for lunch?"

"Of course. Chez Quis?"

"Where else? See you there in fifteen minutes, Katie?"

"Sounds good to me if traffic holds. See you there, Tom," Mrs. Bueller hung up. "I'm heading out, Joyce," she told her colleague, turning back a split second after the TV cut away from Ferris, "If anyone calls for me, take it down for when I get back." She stared at the television set again. "Wherever you are in Washington, Ferris, I hope you're having as good an afternoon as these fans are," she wished her son well.


"So that's the game today, Ferris. An afternoon at the ball game," Rooney grinned in triumph in front of a downtown appliance store, where he'd caught a glimpse of Ferris's interview on the TVs displayed in the window, "Well, that wasn't on our itinerary today. So you have to pay the price for walking out on the actual field trip. Taxi," he flagged one down. "I have waited the last five years for a path out of this damn school, Ferris," he growled back at the TV screens, "And you are not bringing down Bob Tannen and taking that chance away from me if I have anything to say about it..."