Be who we are

2. Should've Been An Actress

A knock on the side door made me push away from Ferris' kitchen counter. Said boy smirked over at me as he pulled three mugs out of one of the kitchen cabinets; it was a sort of 'I told you so' smirk, one that I had been used to seeing for the majority of my life. Rolling my eyes I walked towards the door, knowing he wasn't about to go over to answer it. We both knew who would be standing behind that door. I grabbed the handle and twisted it, opening it to reveal none other than Cameron Frye, looking genuinely, absolutely miserable. At the wary, tired look in his soft blue eyes, I began to question if maybe this time around he wasactually sick.

"Hi, Rae..." he said as he reached up and whipped off his plaid cabbie cap, which he scrunched up tightly in right hand. The movement left his straight, rich brown hair to be disrupted from its usually neat state, locks of it sticking up in a couple places. I smiled softly at him.

"Hey, Cam."

"How did we get dragged into this?" he immediately questioned me, his brows pulling together. He clearly couldn't believe that he'd given into Ferris-again-and that I had as well. I felt my smile turned into a wry smirk at his question.

"Becaues Ferris Bueller is apparently a silver-tongue and can get us to do anything if he uses the right words." I grabbed his left hand and pulled him through the doorway, kicking the door shut with my foot.

"Yes, I can!" came Ferris' sing-songy voice.

"Shut up, Bueller!" I turned back to Cameron again. "C'mon, we're making coffee, I think it may do you some good."

Cameron willingly let me pull him towards the kitchen, his feet dragging in the slightest. The kitchen smelled thickly of the beverage I'd just mentioned, which had been brewing in the coffee maker for a good while.

"Cameron, babe! You finally made it!" Ferris exclaimed with a bright grin, holding his arms out, like he'd been expecting our friend-because he had been. Like Cam had had a choice-Ferriss would have dragged him out of bed even if he had the flu... or the plague. I noticed I still held Cameron's hand, so before Ferris could spot the-innocent-gesture, I dropped his hand, pressing my palm to the side of my own leg. "Step inside, make yourself comfortable! I have a plan to explain!"

I stepped back into the kitchen as Cameron tugged off his Detroit Red Wings jersey, which he often used in place of a sweatshirt; underneath he wore a brown short-sleeved t-shirt with a yellow caduceus printed on the front-he'd tucked the shirt into the pair of khaki colored pants he wore, which had suspenders clipped to them, the thin black straps looped over his shoulders. He hung the jersey up on a coat hook and tucked his hat into his back pocket before he joined us in the kitchen, crossing his arms.

"Whats sick things to you plan on making us do today?" he asked bluntly, getting straight to the point. The smile that had been pulling up Ferris' lips suddenly dropped and was replaced with an expression that would make you think he'd been smacked across the face with a brick. He sputtered for a moment in disblief and threw his hands up.

"The distrust in this room! You two... I swear you share the same brain! Both of you come here and judge my ideas without any knowledge of them. You know what they say about what happens when you assume, right?"

"You make an ass out of you and me," I quickly replied as I pulled out some half-and-half from the fridge. Ferris rolled his eyes at me as he leaned against the counter.

"'Evil... 'sick'... ph!" he said under his breath. Cameron smirked at me looking a bit pleased.

"You can't blame us, some of your plans areinsane," I reminded, remembering the time he proposed we skip mid-terms and go to a water park instead. I could still feel the enthusiasm I'd felt that morning for getting out of school for a day, but there was still that twinge of doubt that was making me question Ferris' sanity.