Cameron Frye's First Love *X Reader/Reader Insert*

Chapter 2: One 'Sick' French Frye

  Music blared from TV as it showed the MTV moon men placing the channel's flag on the moon.
"Incredible," Ferris began to speak through the fourth wall again, "one of the worst performances of my career and they never doubted it for a second!"
He finished tying his robe before going over to his windows and opening the curtains.
"How could I possibly be expected to handle school on a day like this?"
The sky was a bright blue and mostly clear of clouds, allowing the sun to shine down and make the trees leaves greener than green.
Ferris walked over to his radio and began trying to tune it to an interesting channel before beginning to speak.
"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."
Sigue Sigue Sputnick's Love Missile F1-11 started to play as he stood back up and sat on his bed.
"The key to faking out the parents is the clammy hands. It's a good, non-specific symptom; I'm a big believer in it," he started to grab somethings to put together an important contraption to his plan as he spoke, "A lot of people will tell ya that a good phony fever is a dead lock, but, ah, you get a nervous mother, you could wind up in a doctor's office. That's worse than school," he started to tie a rope to a trophy as he informed the air on what to do. "You fake a stomach cramp, and, when your bent over moaning and wailing, you lick your palms. It's a little childish and stupid, but then, so is high school."
He put down the trophy with the rope now tied around it and started to head towards the bathroom.
"Life moves pretty fast," he started before opening the bathroom door, "if you don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it."
He then took off his robe and entered the shower.
"I do have a test today, that wasn't bullshit. It's on European Socialism," he was now in the shower with a very stylish Mohawk on his head as he continued, "I mean, really, what's the point? I'm not European, I don't plan on being European, so who gives a crap if their socialists? They could be fascist anarchists and it still wouldn't change the fact that I don't own a car."
He took the shower head off of its peg and began to sing into it.

"I recall Central Park in the fall,how you tore your dress,what a mess, I confess..."He then began to rinse off the soap on his body, blocking his view to the fourth wall when he began to move it lower.
"It's not that I condone fascism," he started as he walked down the hall towards his room, wearing only a towel on his waist and head, "or any ism for that matter; ism's, in my opinion, are not good. A person should not 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 of people." He finished and continued walking to his room while beginning to dry off his hair.


* ~ * ~ *


"Adams," the bored voice of an economics teacher called out.
"Here."
"Adamley?"
"Here."
"Adamowlsky?"
A hand raised in response.
"Adamson?"
"Here."
"Adler?"
"Here."
"Anderson?... Anderson?"
"Here!"
"Bueller?... Bueller?... Bueller?... Bueller?"
"Um," cut in Simone Adamley, "He's sick. My best friend's, sister's, boyfriend's, brother's, girlfriend, heard from this guy, who knows this kid, who is going with a girl, who saw Ferris pass out at the 31 Flavors last night. I guess it's pretty serious." 
"Thank you Simone," her replied.
"No problem whatsoever," she said happily.
"Frye?" he began again, "Frye?... Frye?"


* ~ * ~ *

Somewhere in Chicago was a beautiful house in the woods that over hung a rocky hillside. Inside, however, was a not as beautiful sight, for there lied a sick Frye, as his phone began to ring. He reached down from his bed and hit the speaker button.
"Hello?" his deep, groggy voice rang out.
"Cameron, babe, what's happening?" Replied a cheery male voice from the other end.
"Very little," he shortly replied.
"How do ya feel?"
"Shredded."
The room showed evidence of his sickness, for the stand his bed was on was covered with different types of medication and tissues.
"Is your mother in her room?"
"She's in Decatur. Unfortunately she's not staying... Where are you?"
"I'm taking the day off. Now get dressed and come on over."
"I can't, stupid, I'm sick."
"That's all in your head, come on over."
"I feel like complete shit Ferris, I can't go anywhere."
"I'm sorry to here that, now come on over here and pick me up. Maybe I'll even have a surprise for you," Ferris firmly said before hanging up.
"I'm dying," Cameron spoke to himself.
The phone began to ring again and it was no other than Ferris on the other line.
"You're not dying, you just can't think of anything good to do. That surprise might help you."
The call ended and Cameron laid in bed for a minute, silently wondering what this 'surprise' could be. Knowing Ferris, it could be something amazing, or it could be something life threatening.
~
Ferris couldn't help but break the fourth wall again.
"If anybody needs a day off, it's Cameron.He has a lot of things to sort out before he graduates. He can't be wound up this tight and go to college; his roommate'll kill 'em."
~
Still lying in bed, Cameron began to sing to himself.

"When Cameron was in Egypt's land,

let my Cameron go."