I'm in love with an idiot (Ferris Bueller x reader)

1: How could i possibly be expected to handle school on a day like this?

*some language*

(Y/n's point of view)

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP!

I rolled over in bed and slammed my hand down on my alarm clock, rubbing my eyes groggily.

I really just wanted to roll back over and continue with my peaceful sleeping, but I had to get up.

Stupid school.

I walked over to my closet and put some clothes on.

It was then that I realized it was 8:19 and class started at 8:30.

Shit.

I ran downstairs and grabbed an apple, eating it quickly.

"Morning, Honey." My dad said, looking up from his newspaper.

I tried to say "Morning." but it came out more like "Morfingw." because my mouth was full of apple.

I ran back upstairs and brushed my teeth aggressively, trying to be as quick as humanly possible.

I brushed my hair and put on some light makeup. But nothing fancy.

Then i ran back downstairs and into the kitchen, where my mom now was. My dad was still sitting at the table.

"Bye mom!" I said as my mom kissed me on the cheek.

"Bye honey." She smiled.

I gave my dad a kiss on the cheek.
"Bye dad!" I said.

"Have a good day at school, sweetie!" He said as I rushed to the front door.

"I won't!" I called back, hearing my father snicker at my response.

I quickly slipped on my shoes and went out the door, just as the bus was stopping at my house.

Usually, I would guilt Cameron into driving me but he was sick and apparently "dying" this week.

I hopped on and since there wasn't very many kids, I got a whole seat to myself.

I hopped off the bus when we arrived at school and went inside, heading to my locker.

"Hey, y/n!" My best friend and cousin, Sloan said as she came up to her locker beside mine.

"Hey, Sloan." I said, as I grabbed my books from my locker.

"Ready to go to English?" She asked.

I was one year older than Sloan, but we had our English class and math class together since she had been taking advanced classes.

"Yep!" I nodded, and we started walking away.

(Narrator's point of view)

"They bought it." Ferris sat up as his parents finally left for work.

Music poured from his tv as he turned on MTV.

"Incredible. One of the worst performances of my career, and they never doubted it for a second." He stated to the fourth wall.

He walked over to his window and opened the curtains.

It was a beautiful day.

(Play the song now)

"How could I possibly be expected to handle school on a day like this?" He asked, once again to the fourth wall.

He walked over to his radio and started to tune it.

"This is my ninth sick day this semester. It's getting pretty tough coming up with new illnesses. If I go for ten I'm probably going to have to barf up a lung, so I better make this one count." Ferris explained, adjusting the Polaroid photograph of Y/n that was wedged into the corner of his mirror, he smiled at it fondly.

He sat down on his bed.

"The key to faking out the parents is clammy hands. It's a good non-specific symptom. I'm a big believer in it." He said, grabbing random items from around his room.

"A lot of people will tell you that a good phony fever is a dead lock, but, you get a nervous mother, you could wind up in a doctors office. That's worse than school." He said as if he new the secrets to the universe.

"You fake a stomach cramp, and when you're bent over, moaning and wailing, you lick your palms. It's a little childish and stupid, but then, so is high school." He said, finishing his contraption he was making.

He started heading to the bathroom.

"Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in awhile, you could miss it." He commented.

Then he opened the bathroom door and went inside.

"I do have a test today, that wasn't bullshit." He said as he was in the shower with a sick Mohawk on his head.

"It's on European socialism. I mean, really, what's the point? I'm not European. I don't plan on being European. So who gives a crap if they're socialists? They could be fascist anarchists and it still wouldn't change the fact that I don't own a car." He said.

He took the shower head off and started to sing into it as if it was a microphone.

"I recall Central Park in fall, how you tore your dress, what a mess, I confess." He sang.

Then he rinsed all the soap off his body, averting the eyes of the fourth wall at a certain point.

Now he was walking down the hallway with a bathrobe and a towel on his head.

"It's not that I condone fascism, or any ism for that matter. Isms, in my opinion, are not good." He said, still walking down the hall.

"A person shouldn't believe in an ism, he should believe in himself. I quote John Lennon, 'I don't believe in Beatles, I just believe in me.' A good point, there. After all, he was the walrus. I could be the walrus, I'd still have to bum rides off people." He finished.

Word count: 909