5. Pete's boss gives him helpful life advice at a bookstore.

When I woke up the next day, I immediately put my headphones on and let Andrew Eldritch's voice fill my ears and comfort me.

Everything will be alright

Everything will turn out fine

Some nights I still can't sleep

And the voices pass with time

I tried to believe the words blaring into my ears, and after the third or fourth time listening to the song on repeat, I finally did. The image of Gabe dying in an explosion still wouldn't leave my head, but as I listened to "No Time To Cry," I managed to convince myself that everything would, in fact, turn out fine. As long as I didn't go to any bookstores, there was nothing to worry about.

I ate my breakfast and spent a few hours playing Super Mario Bros., not even bothering to change out of my pajamas. I was being thoroughly unproductive and I definitely knew it, but it was the summer, after all. I deserved a break after four years of high school.

Later that morning, the phone rang. I ignored it, but after I died in Super Mario Bros., I knew that I had no excuse not to pick up the phone. "Hello?" I said.

"Hey Pete," Gabe said.

"What's up, Gabe?" I asked.

"I've been up all night working on my book, and I need to show it to you," Gabe said. "I think it's really good. Maybe it could even be published when it's done."

"What's it about?" I asked. I knew that Gabe had been working on a novel, but so far, I hadn't read it or heard much else about it.

"You'll see when you read it," Gabe said. "It's a political thriller."

"Have you come up with a title yet?" I asked.

"It's called The Cobra Factor," Gabe said. His title could definitely be worse, I thought. "We should hang out today. I can show you my book then."

"That sounds good," I said. "Just make sure that we don't go to any bookstores."

Gabe laughed and said, "That's easy enough. Why don't we meet at the music store near your house?"

"Sounds great," I said. "I'll meet you there."

"Actually, I might need you to pick me up," Gabe said. "Could you do that?"

"Of course, Gabe," I said.

I turned off the NES, changed into my typical dark black wardrobe, and spent far too long straightening and teasing my hair until it looked just right. Once I was ready to go, I picked Gabe up and then drove the DeLorean to the music store. I used to be a regular customer there, but I had stopped going when a new music store with better selection opened up near Fall Out Bros.

When I arrived at the store, Gabe immediately headed toward the door, but he suddenly froze before he opened it. "There's a problem, Pete," he said.

"What is it?" I asked.

"This is a bookstore, not a music store!" Gabe shouted. He gestured toward a sign that read "Irresistible Books: Grand Opening!"

"The music store must have gone out of business," I said. "We'll just go to my house or something."

"Yeah, that sounds like a good idea," Gabe said. The two of us got into the car, but when I put the key into the ignition, the car wouldn't start.

"I'll call my dad from a pay phone, but I think we're stuck here for a while," I said.

Gabe and I sat in the car, chatting about nothing and everything all at once, but before long, it became too hot to remain in the car. It was ninety two degrees, and I was wearing black - it wasn't exactly the best combination. "The bookstore's air conditioned, isn't it?" I said.

"We can't go inside," Gabe said. "It's out of the question."

"I'm going to boil if we stay in this car any longer, and I don't see any other buildings around," I said. "Besides, I'm sure Billie Joe won't show up. He never learned to read or write so well, but he can play the guitar until it hurts like hell."

Gabe considered it and then said, "Let's go inside." Gabe and I got out of the car and went into the bookstore. We found two chairs near the Classic Literature section, and Gabe pulled out a rather large stack of paper and handed it to me. "This is what I have so far," he told me.

A little overwhelmed by the sheer amount that Gabe had apparently written, I started from the beginning.

The Cobra Factor

By Gabe Saporta

Chapter 1

It was a good day to be Garrett Santiago, leader of the free world and the coolest man on earth.

"Did you name your main character after Garrett Popcorn?" I asked, ignoring the more obvious problem with Gabe's protagonist's name.

"Keep reading," Gabe said.

Santiago had just been sworn in as President of the United States, and now, he was ready to spend some time alone with his doe-eyed Secretary of the Interior and life partner, William Beckett. However, ust as he was about to crawl into bed with William, his chief of staff and hopelessly gothic best friend interrupted him.

"Garrett, there's been a problem," Paul West said as he reapplied his eyeliner and chomped on a slice of deep dish pizza.

"Can you just have the Vice President deal with it?" Santiago asked. "I'm kind of busy right now."

"Bradley Upton is not nearly cool enough to save the world," Paul said. "It's up to you, Garrett Santiago."

"Fine," Santiago whined. "What's going on, Paul?"

"It's about Erika Morgan," Paul said.

"Is this referring to your ex-girlfriend?" I asked. "It's only one letter off from her real name."

"They're all fictional characters, Pete," Gabe insisted.

"Some of them seem a lot like people we know in real life," I said.

"It's just a coincidence," Gabe insisted. "Keep reading."

"She's actually a Soviet spy, and she's about to bomb the White House," Paul said.

Santiago remained calm and collected. It wasn't an easy decision, but the president knew what he had to do. "Not if we blow her up first," Santiago said.

"Are you suggesting that we nuke Moscow?" Paul asked. Garrett Santiago nodded, and Paul shrugged. "It is your choice, Mr. President."

It wasn't long before Santiago reclined in the Oval Office, watching Moscow and Erika Morgan fall to pieces with William by his side. "Did you really do it, Garrett?" he asked energetically lethargically "Did you kill her?"

"Duhhhhhh," the president said. "It was, like, my entire platform."

A laser cannon went off in the distance, and Garrett and William finally had their moment alone together.

"What do you think?" Gabe asked as soon as I reached the end of the first chapter.

There were so many things that I wanted to tell Gabe. My eyes were practically bleeding from having to read his book, and I had barely scratched the surface of it, but I couldn't tell Gabe that, not when he was looking at me like a lost puppy who wanted nothing more than a pat on the head and maybe a treat. "Let me keep reading," I said as I flipped to Chapter Two.

The second chapter of the Cobra Factor ended up being nothing more than an extended sex scene between Garrett Santiago, who I might as well just refer to as Gabe Saporta, and William Beckett. So were the third, fourth, and fifth chapters. Gabe returned to the plot in Chapter Six, but it followed the same formula as Chapter One: one of Gabe's trusted advisors turned out to be a Soviet spy, Gabe nuked a major Russian city, and everything turned out fine.

After Chapter Six, I just gave up. I handed the manuscript back to Gabe, but I couldn't bring myself to tell him how I really felt about The Cobra Factor. "It's really good so far," I said.

"Thanks, Pete," Gabe said, smiling.

"You're welcome," I said, looking toward the parking lot. Dad had said that he would stop by the bookstore at two o'clock and see if he could fix the DeLorean, but he wasn't there yet. Gabe and I were still stranded at Irresistible Books, but thankfully, Billie Joe still hadn't showed up. At least I didn't have to worry about making Gabe's vision come true.

"Now that you've read my novel, can I read your poetry?" Gabe asked.

"No," I said.

"Why not?" Gabe whined.

"It's kind of personal," I answered, which was definitely an understatement. At that point in my life, I exclusively wrote angsty poetry about how living's just a waste of death, and I wasn't sure that I wanted Gabe reading that.

"I understand," Gabe said. "I'm just so glad that you liked The Cobra Factor." I didn't know how to respond to that, but thankfully, Gabe, enjoying the sound of his own voice, kept talking. "I'm just so nervous about writing a song. I've never written one of those before."

"Why would you need to write a song?" I asked.

"It's my purpose in life," Gabe said. "The talking cobra said so."

"The talking cobra also said that you were going to die soon, and that's definitely not going to happen," I said.

"You have a point, but I should start writing that song anyways," Gabe said. "Do you have any ideas?"

"Why are you asking me?" I asked. "I didn't have a talking cobra wake me up at night and tell me about the meaning of my life. I'm pretty sure you have to write the song, Gabe."

"Fine," Gabe said. "I just thought that you might know how to write a song, since you write all of that poetry that you never let me read."

"I don't know how to write songs," I said.

All of a sudden, the door swung open, and a group of twenty-somethings entered the bookstore. I immediately recognized one of them as Billie Joe. He was accompanied by his wife and a few of his friends. I panicked and hid behind a bookshelf. "Gabe, Billie's here," I whispered. He ran over to me, and both of us stayed in place, hoping that Billie wouldn't go anywhere near the Classic Literature section.

The group wandered around for a while, and Gabe and I remained silent. Eventually, I got bored and took a collection of Edgar Allan Poe short stories off of the shelf and started to read it. Billie Joe and his friends seemed disinterested in the classics until Billie asked one of the employees if the bookstore had a copy of The Catcher In The Rye. "It's in the Classic Literature section," she said.

I didn't make a sound, even as Billie Joe headed straight toward the shelf that I was hiding behind. I told myself that he wouldn't be able to find me as long as I stayed quiet, so I pretended to be interested in the short story collection, afraid to even flip a page.

That was when Billie peeked around the corner and spotted me. "Hey, Pete," Billie said. "I didn't expect to see you here."

"I didn't expect to see you either," I said. "What are you doing in a bookstore exactly?"

"I accidentally spilled a can of root beer on my copy of The Catcher in the Rye," Billie said. "It's my favorite book. What are you reading?"

I flipped back a few pages to figure out what the title of the story that I was pretending to read was. "The Masque of the Red Death," I answered.

"Interesting," Billie said. "Have you ever read Salinger?"

"No," I said.

"You should," Billie said. "Y'know, I read The Catcher In The Rye when I was around your age, and it was one of the greatest experiences of my life. I think that everyone should read that book before they get too old, like me."

"You're not that old, Billie," I said.

"I'm definitely getting there," Billie said. "Besides, Pete, you're too young to understand what it's like. You're what, sixteen?"

"Eighteen," I corrected him.

"My point still stands," Billie said. "You still have so much of your life ahead of you, y'know? You need to take advantage of that. Have some fun while you can. Listen to some music that ticks off your parents. Do a few things that you regret. To live and not to breathe is to die in tragedy."

"Okay, Billie Joe," I said. "I get it."

"Good," Billie said. "I'll see you on Friday, Pete."

"See you later, Billie," I said. Billie Joe took a copy of The Catcher In The Rye off of the shelf and left the bookstore with his friends. I immediately turned to Gabe and said, "I'm sorry."

"It's not that big of a deal," Gabe said.

"Yes, it is!" I exclaimed. "You're one step closer to dying, and it's all because Billie Joe Armstrong decided to lecture me about why I should read The Catcher In The Rye."

"There are still over thirty visions that have to happen before I die," Gabe said. "As long as none of those happen, I'll be okay."

He had a point, but I still felt terribly guilty about everything. I put the Edgar Allan Poe short story collection back on the shelf where it belonged and looked toward the parking lot. Finally, Dad was here. If only he had showed up a few minutes earlier, I thought. I watched him pull into the parking lot and park next to the DeLorean. Gabe and I headed outside into the heat while my dad attempted to start the car.

"Hi, Dad," I said as we approached the car.

"I think I've gotten the DeLorean to work for now, but it will still have to go to the mechanic," Dad said.

"Thanks, Dad. Can Gabe and I hang out at our house for a little while?" I said. I had to make sure that today wasn't a total disaster.

"Sure," Dad said. "We can even order a pizza from Fall Out Bros. for you two." He got back into his car, while I climbed into the driver's seat of the DeLorean. I drove Gabe to our house, and we spent most of the rest of the afternoon chatting and listening to music in my bedroom. When the pizza arrived, I devoured it immediately, only leaving a few slices for Gabe, my parents, and my siblings. All afternoon and evening, however, I felt horrible about what had happened at the bookstore. I blamed myself for making Gabe's vision come true, and even after his parents picked him up, a sort of darkness loomed over me.

The day ended the same way that it had began: listening to The Sisters of Mercy and telling myself that everything will be alright.