A couple of blocks further down, at 476 Poplar Avenue, Ferris Bueller was awakened by his radio. He had been waiting several months for this day, for today was the grand opening for Walleyland, U.S.A., media mogul Roy Walley's newest and biggest theme park yet, on the other side of Chicago. To Ferris, seeing firsthand the opening of something as big as this was one of those precious moments in life that aren't worth missing at all, and taking into account what he'd be going through in school today, well worth taking the day off for.

Ferris dressed quickly and hurried downstairs; he had some business to attend to before his parents were fully up. He headed for the living room, straight up to a mountain of blankets and pillows lying on the sofa, and shook it saying, "Rise and shine, Cameron, it's Walley time."

"Is it light yet, Ferris?" came the sleepy reply from underneath the blankets. "If not, let me sleep; I just had another nightmare about my parents disemboweling me, and it took me four hours last night to get back to sleep."

"Oh, it's quite light out, the sun is up and it's going to be another beautiful day in Chicago," Ferris told his buddy. There was the sound of a long sigh, followed by the tumbling of the blankets to the floor. It had not been unusual for Cameron Fry to have nightmares about his parents over the last several months; after all, the last memory he'd had of them was of his father chasing after him with an ax, threatening to kill him after taking the sight of his beloved Ferrari lying wrecked at the bottom of the ravine behind the Frye house way too wrong. The Cameron before that day would have run away long before his father came home, but the very relaxing day Ferris had given to him that afternoon had strengthened his resolve to face the man who'd loved his material items more than his own son, and had stayed calm enough in the face of his father's rage to call the cops, who'd showed up at the last minute to drag Mr. Fry off ranting and raving to the cooler, where he was now spending Christmas serving Year 1 of a 30-year sentence for attempted murder.

Ironically, without her husband around anymore to yell and scream at, Mrs. Fry had not long after suffered a severe nervous breakdown and had to be taken away to the state mental hospital, and the doctor had said that the prognosis was not good. Being of legal age to decide where he wanted to live, Cameron had without hesitation chosen the Buellers, Ferris being his best and pretty much only friend. This had paid off very well, as Ferris's parents had taken him in and raised him as one of their own, giving him the love his own parents had never given him. And now for the first time in his life, Cameron could look forward to getting presents for Christmas. Presents, however, were not on the forefront of his mind.

"How do you expect to get out of the high school?" he asked his friend (Ferris had told him about his intended plot several weeks ago). "You know how Rooney's raised security following all those school shootings several years ago. Besides, this'll be your seventh sick day; how do you expect to fool him this time?"

"Fear not, Cameron my friend, for I have devised a foolproof plan for this scenario," Ferris said confidently. "I have been working on it for close to a month now, and it's ready to serve our purposes at our command."

"You wouldn't be planning anything illegal now, would you?" came a somewhat stern voice from behind them. Jeannie Bueller was giving her brother and stepbrother a fishy stare, as if she was trying to see through them to figure out their plans. Although Jeannie had always disapproved of Ferris's "extracurricular activities," she'd lightened up drastically after her attempt to stop him led to her arrest in the spring. After that humbling experience, she'd basically revamped her thinking to the point where she was now basically trying to keep him from doing anything that might lead to her humiliation if he was caught--which had never happened before, but the chance always existed.

Ferris recovered quickly form the mild shock of seeing her. "No, Jeannie, as a matter of fact, Cameron and I were discussing the things that make amusement parks great."

"I know what you're planning, Ferris, and let me just tell you it won't work," Jeannie said to him authoritatively. "With the guard that's been put on the school, you'll never make it out without being caught, and then you'll disgrace the whole family, especially me! So..."

"Is something wrong going on here?" Mrs. Bueller said, entering the living room.

Jeannie quickly dropped the authoritative edge. "Uh, no, Mom; Ferris and I were just, uh, um, going over...when we think would be the best time to visit the new Walleyworld park."

"Well, we won't have time to do that before the holidays, so keep those thoughts in the back of your head, honey," Mrs. Bueller told her daughter, giving her a hug. Then she turned to her son and her ward. "And how did Ferris and Cameron sleep last night?"

"I slept fine, Mom, but Cameron had another nightmare about his parents," Ferris told her.

"Oh dear, not again, Cameron!?" Mrs. Bueller asked Cameron with genuine sympathy in her voice. "We may have to get you to a psychologist after the holidays. In the meantime, you'd better get dressed; school starts in twenty minutes. I'll be cooking breakfast for everyone."

"That sounds great, honey," said Mr. Bueller, as he now entered the living room. And before you start up the stove, Katie, could you tell me if my tie's on straight?"

"Looks fine to me, Tom," Mrs. Bueller said, giving her husband a kiss. They began walking into the kitchen. "Why did you ask?"

"Today's my big appointment with the boss concerning the Little Giant Vacuum Company ads, and..."

Their voices trailed off as they got farther away. Jeannie shot Cameron a somewhat jealous glance (she disliked very much the amount of attention Cameron had been receiving since he'd come to live at the Buellers), then started walking away, mouthing, "Don't try it!" to Ferris just before she disappeared from sight. Cameron turned to face Ferris.

"That reminds me, neither of us has gotten her a present yet," he muttered. "We'd better pick something up today, because I'd hate to be face to face with her presentless."

"Fortunately, Cameron, we will be heading for the shopping capital of the Midwest this afternoon," Ferris reassured him. "We'll find her something. Now let's go to breakfast and put our plans out of the way until we get to school."

"Just between you and I, I don't know how you're mother expects us to eat a full-course breakfast with just twenty minutes to go until we have to leave," Cameron commented as he got up off the couch. "But then again, she always makes a great breakfast, so it's well worth being late."

On the other side of town, ironically in Cameron's former house, Buck Russell was at the moment midway through his daily morning routine, busying pouring himself a bowl of cereal and brewing a cup of coffee simultaneously. He had started eating on the run after staying home to eat breakfast had made him late for his new job as Shermer High School guidance counselor (he had taken that job because it sounded like one that didn't carry too much responsibility with it to him; the school board had been reluctant to hire him, given his less than stellar job background, but as he was the only candidate for the job, he'd been hired anyway). Today was a busy day for Buck. After work, he'd be coaching his nephew Miles's hockey team in its final game before Christmas break, and after that, he had a dinner engagement with his fiancee Chanice Kobaloski at a high-priced restaurant in downtown Chicago, in their last big time alone before their wedding in April after 8 long years.

Having finished with his breakfast-making, Buck headed out to the garage with it. A strong, cold breeze blew through the big hole in the back wall from when Mr. Frye's Ferrari had gone crashing into the ravine behind that house. Buck had been meaning to fix it, but hadn't gotten around to it yet. He placed the cereal and coffee on the front passenger seat, then went back into the house to pick up his briefcase and lock up for the day, as he wouldn't be back until late. He was met in the doorway by his new German shepherd Cecil, who normally woke him up nowadays, as Buck didn't trust his alarm clock following it malfunctioning the first couple of time he'd used it. He'd been interested in getting a dog after becoming close with his brother Bob's dog Percy when he'd watched Bob's kids last February, and had picked up Cecil, who'd been abandoned by his former owners and had been living on the streets, in August. The two of them had become close, Buck's lacksidaisial habits molding well with Cecil's streetwise nature. The dog now licked his master's hand affectionately.

"Have a nice day, Cecil," Buck told the dog, scratching behind his ears as he spoke. "There's pretzels and beer in the fridge for you, and if you want to watch the TV, the clicker's on the sofa. "I'll see you when I get home."

Cecil barked loudly. Buck squeezed past him into the den, picked up his briefcase, and headed back out to his car, where he got in, started the engine, and lit up a pipe. Pipes were the third phase in his five-year plan to quit smoking; he'd just given up Phase II, cigars, at Halloween, and had previous dumped cigarettes in Phase I. He still had chewing tobacco and nicotine gum before he could declare himself smoke-free.

He flicked on the radio as he pulled out into the street, eager to hear about the weather. "...about midnight last night at Wrigley Field. An autopsy has yet to be administered, but it's clear that the gang member died from repeated severe blows to the head. The police are investigating the matter and have no comment at the present," the anchor was saying. "And now, let's check and see if we're going to get a white Christmas this year. how about it, Marty?"

"Well, Dave," said the weatherman, "it looks very good indeed. A storm in place over Utah right now is going to head east over the next couple of days, and we expect it to arrive in the Chicago area by Thursday night, bringing with it anywhere from 4 to 12 inches. Until then, we can expect partly sunny skies, with highs in the lower 30s and lows at night in the upper teens. That's it for the weather; back to you, Dave."

"Thanks, Marty," said the anchorman. "In other news today,..." Buck switched stations now that he'd heard what he wanted to hear. He came across a good station playing a string of Christmas music, and listened to that at full volume the rest of the way across town to pick up his nieces and nephews and take them to school. Eight minutes later, he found himself turning into his brother's driveway, when abruptly, his car hit something in the driveway, and his coffee spilled over onto his crotch.

"YEEEEEOOOOOOOOWWW!!!!" Buck leaped about a foot into the air, bumping his head off the roof of his car as he was still going up. It took him a minute to realize that his foot was pressing down even harder on the gas pedal, and he was heading straight for Bob's foyer. Frantically, he pressed down both feet and the brake and closed his eyes, expecting a collision.

It luckily never came; he managed to stop inches from the wall. Buck breathed a huge sigh of relief as Bob and his family came running out, just in time to catch the tailpipe do its usual dramatic backfiring after the pressure built up too much after the car was put into park.

"Is everything OK," Bob asked his brother when he arrived at the car. "It looked for a moment like you were going to total my house!"

"Uh, no, everything's fine, Bob," Buck said, crossing his legs and tossing his coffee cup over the seat when everyone briefly looked away. "Are the kids all ready for school?"

"We're ready whenever you are, UB," came the voice of his nephew Miles from behind his father. He was carrying his bag of hockey supplies along with his bookbag, as he would be going straight to this afternoon's game from school. Alongside him was the youngest Russell, Maizy, was apparently taking several board games into class today.

Farther off in the background stood the oldest child, Tia, who gave Buck a small smile when he turned his eyes in her direction. This happened to be one of the more polite greetings she'd given him over the course of the previous year, as, due to her having many problems in her life at the time, she'd been generally hostile toward him when he'd first dropped back into her life in February. Feeling that he was trying to intrude on her life, she'd gone as far as trying to ruin his relationship with Chanice to get him out of the house, but in the end, his patience and understanding had won her over, and the two of them had become friends, occasionally taking coffee breaks together after school.

"You kids can go put your stuff on the floor; then just watch where you put your feet," Buck told Miles and Maizy as he opened the rear door for then, then moved his cereal over to his side of the front seat to allow Tia room to sit down. "And don't forget to buckle up." It was then, looking up from the doors, that he realized someone wasn't there. "Say, Bob, where's Cindy?" he asked his brother.

"She's up in our room, recovering from a pretty strong cold," Bob told him.

"And while you're on that subject, I'd like to ask another big favor of you: Cindy's parents have agreed to come here for Christmas, but their car's in the shop back in Indianapolis, so she and I will have to drive over and get them, so would it be inconvenient for you to watch the kids Thursday from about two to midnight? We probably won't take much longer than that."

"Hmm, let me think here for a moment," Buck scanned through his mental databank. "Uh, no, not that I can think of, I'll have to ask Chanice tonight if I'm forgetting anything with her, but otherwise, sure, I can probably do it."

"Thanks,. Buck," Bob was quite relieved. "If you hadn't been able to do it, we'd probably have to be stuck leaving the kids with Marcy, and neither Cindy nor I would really want to do that."

"I know where you're coming from," Buck commented, shivering at the mention of Marcy Dalgren-Frost's name. The neighbor from hell in the Russell's neighborhood hadn't come over too often in February, but when she did, she'd made Buck's life a living hell, at one point forcing him to dance with her...moments before Chanice had entered, catching him and her inflagrante dilecto. It had then taken the assistance of a repentant Tia, who'd set up the whole scenario to begin with, to set everything right. Buck quickly put the unpleasant thoughts of Marcy out of his mind.

"Well, have a nice day, Bob, I'll call you later," he told his brother in parting as he climbed back into the car and backed out of the driveway. "So, are you guys all ready for Christmas?" he asked over the back seat.

"Sure are," Maizy said with her voice brimming with excitement over the holidays.

"Did you give Santa your lists when you visited him at the mall the other night?"

"Yep. I'm a little worried he might not come through, though, because he's one of those Santas who keeps tugging at his beard."

"Oh, well, he's just, uh, nervous about the big delivery he's going to make Sunday night," Buck said in an attempt to alleviate his nieces' worries. "You know, Santa does that every year when it get close to crunch time; I know because I've seen him close up when I was you're age, and he did that almost every time he drops off someone's gifts."

"Really?"

"Really," Buck gave Maizy a smile, then turned sideways to Tia. "How about you, are you expecting many presents?" he asked.

"Not too much," Tia answered. "To be honest, think I'm getting a little to old to get presents."

"Consider yourself lucky," Buck said in a whisper so Miles and Maizy couldn't hear too well and think what he was going to say meant there wasn't any Santa, "my parents stopped giving me presents when I was thirteen.."

"I'll keep that in mind," Tia said.

Buck noticed a sort of melancholy cloak about her. "Is something wrong?" he inquired. "You don't look yourself.

"If you must know," Tia said with a slight sigh (she rarely liked sharing her inner feelings with anyone else), "I still don't have a date to the semi-formal on Sunday night."

"Oh yeah, I heard about that," Buck said. "It's beyond me, though, why they're holding it on Christmas Eve when school ends the day before. I'll tell you what, when I get some free time today, I'll go through my guidance files and see if anyone really stands out, then tonight after Miles's game, I'll give you a list of the guys I thought you might like, and you can decide if you'd want any of them. Is that OK?"

"As long as you do it inconspicuously, fine with me," Tia said. "And don't worry, I won't even think of Bug if I can't find anyone."

"Good for you," Buck smiled, holding no strong feeling for Tia's former beau, Bug "Spray" Underhill, a sex fiend extraordinaire. "How is Twiddledink doing lately? I haven't seen him since I started working at the high school; has he dropped out after I taught him a little bit about golf."

"Oh, he's still there, and in fact, he tried making another pass at me just two weeks ago," Tia admitted.

"What'd you do?"

"I just told him that you needed a new partner for your Water Torture Cell illusion in your small-time circus act, and that he was your top choice for the job. You should have seen it; he turned as white as chalk and ran away shrieking at the top of his lungs when he heard that!"

Buck burst out laughing. "Yep, I'd love to have seen that one!" he chuckled.

"Well, if he gives you any more trouble, just tell me, and I'll put him at the receiving end of Miles's hockey stick."

"Actually, UB, I'd rather tickle him to death," quipped Miles from the back seat.

"Yep, I can imagine you doing that, Miles," Buck grinned. And before we get to school, could you and your sister let around on the floor; I think I dropped my coffee cup back there on the way over here."

"Kevin, time to get up! We're on time, and we'd like to stay that way!"

Kevin McCallister rose up from under the covers of the attic bed. He couldn't believe what he'd just heard: his family was actually on time for Christmas vacation!? "Well," he figured to himself, "third time's always the charm!"

Down below in the McCallister house, the rest of his family was already scurrying around, getting their stuff together for the flight to Los Angeles. Kevin parents had been a little reluctant to go away this Christmas, with the memories of having forgotten Kevin the last two years still very sharp in their minds, but Uncle Frank and his family had talked them into it, noting how they could stay at Aunt Leslie's condominium complex in Sherman Oaks, just a little north of downtown L.A., and saying that if they took the necessary precautions (whatever that had meant), they had nothing to worry about.

Whether they'd taken this in or not, Kevin's parents had decided to take no chances this year; they'd surrounded their bed with at least two dozen clocks all precisely synchronized to the right time to ensure that they didn't sleep in this year. While a little nervous that history might again repeat itself, Kevin was basically looking forward to the City of Angels, and especially the proximity to Disneyland, Walley World, Knott's Berry Farm, Universal Studios, the beach at Santa Monica, Hollywood, and many other attractions he'd never heard of before. Still, he wished his family would just stay home for Christmas one of these years, because it felt so much more like Christmas at home than somewhere else, especially in a place where it never snowed.

Calls like, "Tracy, where's my suitcase!?" and "Has anyone seen my autograph book?" greeted Kevin as he came down the stairs onto the second floor into the midst of the vacation maelstrom. This was the third straight year he'd spend the night before Christmas vacation in the attic, but the last two years it had been as a punishment, whereas this time it had been of his own free choice, as he definitely did not want to share the roller bed with bed-wetting cousin Fuller. He headed for the bathroom, only to find a small line there waiting to go in. "Who is it?" he asked his oldest sister Megan, who was at the front of the line.

"Who else, Kevin? It's Uncle Frank, as usual," Megan told him, unpleasantness in her tone indicating she disliked her uncle's bathroom habits. Kevin agreed with her in this whole-heartedly.

"I can hold it; it's not an emergency," he announced out loud and started for the stairs. He had barely taken the first step, however, when something struck his foot, and he lost his balance and fell halfway down the staircase. The source of this accident became evident immediately, as the jovial voice of oldest brother Buzz soon after chimed out, "Better watch where you're going, Kev; you don't want to take any more trips this year than you have to!"

Kevin got up, trying as hard as he could to quell the rage inside himself. "I'll pretend that didn't happen, Buzz," he told his brother sternly, then turned and walked away.

His mother now came running up to the bottom of the stairs. "Are you all right, Kevin?" Kate McCallister asked her youngest child with deep concern. "I heard a tumbling noise, and..."

"I'm fine, Mom," Kevin reassured her. "Buzz wanted to make a bad joke about excess trips on me."

Kate sighed. "If he'd gone through what you've gone through, maybe he'd be a little more understanding about being left behind," she muttered both to Kevin and herself. "Well then, honey, if you're not hurt, why don't you get your things and put you're coat on; the airport vans will be here any minute now, and we'll be able to make our flight on time. Please don't take what I'm about to say the wrong way, but your father and I are going to keep a tight grip on you when we get to the airport until we actually get on the plane so we don't lose you again. Is that all right?"

"I can understand your good intentions, Mom, but do you and Dad REALLY have to hold my hand all the way to the gate?" Kevin argued. "I am ten years old now; I can take care of myself in getting to the plane."

"I'm sorry, Kevin, but we don't want to lose you again," Kate told her son. "Christmas vacation isn't the same without you, and I'm sure you don't want to be alone again."

"I don't want to be alone again, but what if one or more of my friends happen to see me, ten years old and all, being dragged through the airport by my parents as if I was at least five years younger than I am. I'll never hear the end of it when I go back to school after the holidays!"

"I seriously doubt your friends will be in the airport, Kevin." Kate wasn't angry or upset, but there was a large degree of finality in her voice that convinced Kevin to drop the matter. "Now why don't you go get your stuff together?"

"Yes Mom," Kevin sighed in resignation. He trotted into the kitchen to find his bags (the McCallisters had designated a certain part of the kitchen for each person's belongings and luggage), which were tightly lodged between his cousins Brooke and Rod's luggage. He picked out his items (two miniature suitcases, three plastic bags, his camera, bathing suit & towel, Walkman, Harry Potter books--Kevin was an avowed Potter fan--tape recorder, and map of the Los Angeles area) from among his cousins' clutter and returned to the living room, where a finally relieved Uncle Frank was now pacing about the living room in obvious tension. "Peter, do you have my family's passports and tickets!?" he was bellowing to his brother.

Kevin's father rushed up from the basement. "Right here, Frank," he said, waiving them in the air. "I locked them in the little safe down in the basement so nothing would happen to them."

"They're here!" cried cousin Fuller from the window on the side of the front door; moments later, the sound of the oft-battered statue out front being knocked over once again confirmed the airport vans had indeed arrived.

"OK, everyone," Kate called to all 14 McCallisters over the din of the children shouting excitedly, "we'll do this just like last year; my McCallisters in van #1, Frank and Leslie's McCallisters in van #2!" She handed Aunt Leslie her family's passports and tickets, then took hold of Kevin's hand. "OK, let's go, Kevin," she said to him cheerfully.

Kevin returned a weak smile as he was led out the front door and into the front seat of the foremost van, where he wanted to be anyway; the last place he wanted to spend the ride to the airport was right next to Buzz, who'd almost certainly continue to pick on him when his parents' backs were turned. Buzz had been the only member of Kevin's immediate family who'd not lightened up toward him following his past Christmas experiences; Megan, Linnie, and Jeff had all treated him with more respect once they'd learned of how he'd managed to hold out successfully by himself for several days at a time each of the last two years. Buzz, however, continued to be the same old agitating Buzz, it took all of Kevin's energies to ignore his brother's torments. Hopefully, he was praying, "someday his parents might realize what he was going through and set Buzz straight once and for all.

But of course, his doing fine alone had only been half of Kevin's Christmas adventures. He hadn't told his family about the other half of the story, about how he'd successfully defended his home and later saved the New York Children's Hospital's charity money from those two bad guys, out of fear that they'd both grow overly protective of him and disapprove of his actions to the extent that they'd put an even tighter control over his life than they did at the present. Covering up their invasion of his house had been taxing on Kevin; he'd had a heck of a time get the tall thug's shoes and socks unstuck form the basement stairs, and it was by pure luck that he managed to find the tall one's crowbar and the short one's scarf before anyone else did. His father had found the short guy's gold tooth, knocked out by a rogue paint can, but had never been able to make ends of it. And that wasn't all that was bothering Kevin about the bad guys: he hoped they hadn't broken out again and would be waiting for him in L.A.

These thoughts were on Kevin's mind all the way to the airport. It took his family a couple of minutes to unload all the luggage and give them to the porters to put on the plane. "Which gate are we looking for?" Peter asked the doorman once this had been accomplished.

"Number 667, sir," the doorman told him. "Go about halfway across this terminal, then turn left at the fork and take it to the end, you'll find the gate there."

"Thank you," Peter said. "Come on, Kevin, let's go reserve our plane," he told his youngest child, taking Kevin's hand. Kate grabbed the other one, and soon Kevin was being hustled through the terminal at high speed; apparently his parents were bent on not cutting it close with this flight. Kevin kept his head low during this; he didn't want to risk being seen by any of his friends if they were in the airport. As he had said back at home, the embarrassment of being seen by one of them would be too much for him.

After about five minutes of running, the McCallister family finally reached the gate. The plane hadn't even arrived yet, and everyone breathed a big sigh of relief before plopping down in the seats alongside the waiting area. Glad inside to have at least some free time, Kevin dug into the lone bag he'd been able to take with him into the airport and pulled out H.P. and the Sorcerer's Stone. Hopefully, he thought to himself, the fact they all got to the right gate on time meant that everything would go smoothly this year...