Ferris Bueller Shorts

When Sloane Had to Explain the Flowers

"Sloane! Can you come down here for a minute?"

Sloane glanced up from her pre-calc homework. "Okay, one second!" She turned off her calculator and set down her pencil. As she stood up from her desk, she stretched, her limbs stiff from two hours of homework that she was so close to finishing, but she decided that a small break wouldn't be so bad.

She tossed her hair over her shoulder and found her slippers by her bedroom door. She stepped into them and opened the door, walking out into the upstairs hallway. The floors in her house were constantly waxy and cold, and she'd always hated that, hence her choice of footwear. She'd long changed out of her clothes from the day, and instead had on a fuzzy pink bathrobe, which was an evening tradition while she worked. It seemed to make her more relaxed and better at actually being able to write her essays and solve ridiculously difficult math equations.

Granted, she wouldn't have had nearly as much work to do on this particular night if she hadn't skipped class with Ferris and Cameron. Normally, she would've used her study hall to get through a large chunk of the night's work, but obviously, she had missed it.

She trekked downstairs and into the kitchen where her parents were chatting about their days at work.
"-And I had to tell Officer Dupont that his slacks were backwards! Can you believe some of these kids in the department?" she heard her father chuckle before she came into his line of vision.

"Hi, pumpkin. How was your day?" He asked, adjusting his glasses further up his nose.

"Fine. It was like every other school day," she chuckled, cleverly disguising her lie as she leaned against the island counter in the middle of the kitchen.

"It only gets worse from here," her mother smiled, going to take a roast out of the oven for that night's dinner. It smelled great, and Sloane realized she hadn't eaten since the baseball game when she'd taken exactly one of Cameron's nachos.

"I feel like I live the same day over and over again every time I step into that police station," Sloane's father sighed. "Which I guess is good, because it means no one's committing any crimes and the boys are doing a good job out on the field." Though her father was an impeccable police chief, he was terrible at remembering small things, like why he'd called Sloane down in the first place.

"You both needed me for a second?" Sloane reminded her parents, not to be rude, but because she was genuinely curious what she was told to come downstairs for.

"Oh, right! Sloane, do you have any idea what these flowers are for? They say something about Grandma Edna dying, but I called her this morning, and she's fine. Do you know anything about this?" Her father asked.

"Um..," Sloane faltered for a second. She'd couldn't just say, "Yes, dad, it was part of a convoluted lie that Ferris made up so we could skip school and go all over the city in Cameron's dad's incredibly nice car, which in the end got totaled and I never got in trouble for," with a smile on her face.

"No idea... Actually, wait, I was talking about her for a class.. for, um, history. We had to talk about Prohibition and I mentioned Grandma Edna had lived through it and then mentioned she moved just the other day, yknow, to the nursing home. But I guess I didn't say that part and maybe someone assumed I meant "moved on"...," she lied, doubting her parents would believe it for a second. Her mother was an accountant and her father was the local chief of police - they weren't stupid.

"Huh, that's funny...," Sloane's father said, and Sloane knew she was caught. "Wait'll I tell the boys down at the station! They'll get a hoot out of this!" He laughed.

Sloane blinked. Had she - actually gotten away with it? Ferris was usually the one to lie or at least help her come up with something more structured and believable than.. that mess that she just spouted. Maybe hanging around with Ferris did have its perks.

"These are gorgeous flowers," Sloane's mom stated, walking over. "Lillies and carnations. Maybe I'll press some of them in a scrapbook."

Sloane let out a quiet sigh of relief. Both of her parents were convinced. She turned to head back to her room to finish up the last of her work. "If that's all you needed, I think I'll go back to my pre-calc."

"Oh, speaking of school, how's that Ferris boy?" Sloane's father asked, giving Sloane some "is he your boyfriend" eyebrows. Sloane was stuck.

"Oh, yknow, he's Ferris. Always the center of attention," Sloane shrugged with a smile that she hoped her parents would believe meant "I don't know because I don't care" even if it wasn't the truth at all.

"Well, tell him we hope he's feeling better. We heard he was sick today," he said. "Give him our regards. And maybe some of these flowers," he chuckled. Sloane forced a laugh and hurriedly stole away to the staircase, which she quickly climbed to avoid further interrogation. Once she was safe in her bedroom, she shut the door and leaned against it.

That was terrifying. But she now understood the adrenaline rush Ferris got from lying.

She had to call him and tell him.