Meave Buellers day off (Cameron Frye x Maeve Bueller)

Obscene Gestures

We stood out the front of Chez Quis, listen to the familiar voice of Ferris's and I's father. 

"Shit, it's Daddy, four thousand restaurants in the downtown area, and you pick the one Daddy goes to." I whisper to Ferris, not daring for him to hear my voice. 

"We're pinched for sure." Cameron turns around to talk, his body remaining faced at the door for some reason. 

"No, way Cameron. Only the Meek get pinched. The bold survive." He puts his hat back on. "Let's go."  

"Let's surrender."

"Never." Me and Ferris say in synchrony, not looking to bear the wrath of our father. We all put out sunglasses back on, and Cameron wraps an arm around me, trying to give me more of a cover. We click and walk down the stairs, listening to our father talk business with his coworkers from a safe distance.

"Dave, I know it sounds like I'm beating a dead horse with this one, but I'm telling you that that's not the case." We rush down the last of the stairs, trying to beat my father to the yellow taxi. Ferris reaches for the handle, almost touching it when his father reaches for it as well. "We don't have the money."

He continues to talk, walking away from the taxi as we as freak out. Ferris takes the opportunity to open the door, rushing inside, us following. As I shut the door, and we pull away from my father, I come to realise that the seats of the taxi aren't really firm, but Camerons lap is. I know this because I accidently sat in it due to the lack of room in the cosy taxi.

Choosing to ignore the lack of space between Cameron and I, we made our way to a baseball stadium. 

We had been sat watching the game for half an hour before a ball came smashing out way, almost smacking Sloane in the nose, before Ferris caught it. Cheering and wincing simultaneously.

Our faces popped up on the big screen and I was immediately worried about who may see it. But the excitement of the moment was too much, and the worries dissipated. Sloane went back to her studies, and I went back to helping her as the boys cheering subsided. Ferris held the ball up again, clearly proud of his catch. 

"Think I broke my thumb."

"Hey, batter, batter, batter, batter, batter, batter, swing, batter. Come on." Cameron yelled, morphing his facial features signalling for Ferris to join him.  "Hey, batter, batter, batter, batter, swing, batter." They say before Cameron goes off by himself again. "He can't hit, he can't hit, he can't hit, he can't hit, he can't hit, swing, batter."

The boys eat fries, while I help Sloane do her homework. 

"Do you realise if we played by the rules right now, we'd be in gym?" Ferris asks us.

"You'd be in gym; I'd be watching you run laps in your little shorts while I pretend to have cramps you mean." The boys and Sloane laugh at the thought, knowing it was entirely true. 

We run up the stairs for the Chicago art museum, cheerily. Once we make our way inside, we find a group of kindergarteners on a school trip and join hands with them as they try not to get lost. We walk around the museum, look in at paintings, posing with statues. We stand in a line, each of us looking a different painting. Not talking, just looking. 

Ferris and Sloane ditched us the second we started to separate, probably making out in a corner somewhere. After ten minutes of walking around by myself, I finally spotted the tall boy, making my way over to him.

"Cam?" He was engrossed into a painting of people at a park, overlooking a body of water. The closer you looked into the painting, the less you could see. I grabbed Camerons hand, awakening him from his trance.