Sloane Peterson.

She wasn’t just the girlfriend in the convertible. She was the witness. The wild card. The calm in the chaos who saw everything.

In a world of boys performing rebellion, Sloane played the long game. She wasn’t loud. She didn’t posture. She didn’t have to.

She flirted with Ferris’s dad, kept a straight face while the world unraveled, and watched her best friend come back to life through the rearview mirror. She knew when to laugh and when to hold still. She understood that skipping school wasn’t about being bad - it was about getting out alive.

Let’s be honest, Sloane got herself out of school. Ferris wasn’t necessary - just her crocodile tears and a well-timed phone call. A soft voice just sad enough to pass. She didn’t wait for permission - she orchestrated her exit. Oscar-winning performance in the face of Rooney’s buffoonery.

The 2025 version of Sloane Peterson wouldn’t sit around and dream of the good old days. She’ll smile at the memory of Ferris hijacking the parade - oh boys and their declarations. She’s a vision and a visionary. I like to imagine she runs a creative studio in Echo Park called Soft Revolt. She lives in a restored mid-century home tucked in the hills, filled with art and light. She walks around the reservoir in her vintage sunglasses and a voice memo app full of one-liners. She’s five minutes late to everything because she got caught up talking to her neighbor or a screenwriter or someone crying in a coffee shop.

She doesn’t chase status. She never did. She was cool before Ferris showed up and cooler after she left.

Because to keep Ferris Bueller’s attention, you had to be more than magnetic. You had to be made of time. Of instinct. Of subtle knowing.

She wasn’t the sidekick. She was the one who got it. And now? She’s the one we want to become.

And when Cameron unraveled, she stayed calm. "I could flip out real easy, too. It's okay. Sooner or later everybody goes to the zoo."

SLOANE FOREVER. FRINGE ON.