2. Brendon talks to a hobo about popcorn.

"Are you sure it's a good idea to let Pete drive the DeLorean?" my mom asked my dad the next morning.

"Relax, Dale," Dad said as he handed me the car keys. "Everything will be fine."

"Thanks, Dad!" I said as I ran outside, bringing my camera with me, and opened the gull-wing doors. I then climbed into the driver's seat, inserted the key into the ignition, and drove away. I flipped through a few radio stations, but when I couldn't find one I liked, I decided to play Seventeen Seconds for the millionth time. I made a quick stop at the post office to send the letter to Mikey, and after that, I headed to Gabe's house.

I knocked on his door, and Gabe answered, wearing an absurd pair of sunglasses. I laughed, and he said, "What? You don't like my sunglasses?"

"You look ridiculous, Gabe," I said.

"Why thank you," Gabe said. "Come on, let's go pick up Brendon." Gabe climbed into the passenger seat of the DeLorean before commenting, "Have I mentioned how much I love your car, Pete?"

"Yes, many times," I said as I drove toward Brendon's house. When we got to his house, Brendon immediately ran outside and climbed into the backseat.

"Chicago, here we come!" Brendon shouted, grinning as he repeatedly opened and closed the doors of the DeLorean.

"Brendon, cut it out," I said. "I can't drive if you keep doing that."

"It's not my fault that you have the coolest car ever," Brendon said, but he did keep the doors closed, and I started driving toward the expressway.

"Weren't you the one who once said that my dad's car was the dumbest car that you'd ever seen?" I said.

"That was before Back to the Future came out," Brendon said. "Speaking of Back to the Future, can you go up to 88?"

I groaned and said, "Brendon, this thing's not a time machine." Brendon sighed, and I continued to drive into the city. Gabe turned up the music, and the three of us sang along to The Cure until we finally made it into Chicago.

"Where are we going first?" Brendon asked as I drove past Navy Pier.

"Let me look at the map," Gabe said. He adjusted his sunglasses, looked at the map of the city, and said, "The Sears Tower isn't too far from here." He gave me directions, and I followed them until we arrived at the tallest tower in the city. It took me a while to find a parking spot, but once I found a parking garage, the three of us got out of the DeLorean and went to the top of the Sears Tower.

"There's nothing to do up here," Gabe complained after walking back and forth across the Skydeck three or four times.

"I think it's pretty cool," Brendon said.

I simply waited by the windows, watching people walk by. Almost all of them seemed to be tourists, desperately trying to point out landmarks, despite all of the clouds blocking their view. "Is that the ocean?" one woman asked, pointing toward Lake Michigan.

"No, I think it's Lake Ontario," another woman said while I, forever a lake effect kid, simply laughed. A few people stared at me, but I didn't particularly care. It wasn't like I would ever see any of these people again anyways.

After a little while, Gabe, Brendon, and I took the elevator back down to the first floor. "Where are we going next?" I asked them.

"Let's go to the Art Institute," Gabe said.

I glared at him and said, "I'm going to have to move the car if we do that, and it was hard enough finding a parking spot earlier. Are you sure there isn't something else that we could do that would be closer?"

"I kind of want to see some art," Brendon said, and I groaned and headed toward the parking garage. The three of us got back into the car and drove toward the Art Institute, and after far too much time driving around and searching for parking, I found a spot about a block away from the museum.

We spent a while looking at Impressionist paintings, and I took a fairly good picture of Gabe and Brendon making silly faces in front of A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte. "I will never get over the fact that the lady in the painting is literally walking a monkey," Gabe commented. "If I ever become a painter, I'm only going to paint people out walking their monkeys."

"I'd rather paint still lifes," Brendon said. "It seems easier to paint a bowl of fruit or a glass of milk than a monkey or a person."

"I suppose you have a point there," Gabe said. "This gallery's kind of boring. Let's go downstairs. I think there's some Greek and Roman art there."

Gabe seemed to know where he was going, so Brendon and I followed him. When we got there, Gabe stood in place for a moment and admired the gallery. Then, he jumped over the ropes, climbed up onto one of the pedestals, and started grinding on one of the statues.

"Gabe, what are you doing?" I shouted, but even as I said that, I laughed and reached for my camera so I could take a photo.

"You're going to get us kicked out," Brendon said.

"If I get kicked out, it will be worth it," Gabe said. "You two need to relax and live a little."

Just as he said that, the statue toppled over. I screamed and ran over to catch it before it hit the floor, my arms barely able to support the marble statue.

A security guard suddenly ran over and said, "What do you three think that you're doing? That statue is nearly two thousand years old, and you're treating it like some kind of toy."

"It's all his fault," I said, pointing to Gabe. "He was the one who thought it would be funny to try grinding on a statue."

"Get out!" the security guard shouted as he took the statue and put it in its proper position again. Gabe, Brendon, and I all walked out of the museum.

"See what you've done?" I complained to Gabe.

"It was totally worth it though," Gabe said.

"I have to admit, the whole thing was pretty funny," I said, still laughing.

"Besides, we were almost done at the Art Institute anyways," Gabe added.

"Maybe we should get some popcorn at Garrett next?" Brendon suggested. "I'm kind of hungry."

"Seriously?" I said. "I'd have to move the car again."

"Garrett is totally going to be worth it," Brendon insisted, and I groaned and headed into the parking garage. All of us climbed into the DeLorean, and Gabe gave me directions to Garrett Popcorn Shops.

I headed down Lakeshore Drive, singing along to the mixtape that I had put on, but it wasn't long before we headed straight into a rather shady neighborhood. Graffiti covered buildings loomed over us as I drove onwards, feeling out of place in my dad's expensive sports car. "Are you sure this is the right place, Gabe?" I asked.

"The map says that Garrett should be on the left," Gabe said.

"Let me see the map," Brendon said. Gabe handed the map to Brendon, and he studied it before giving it back to Gabe. "Yeah, Garrett should be on the left."

I pulled over and carefully parked the car next to the popcorn shop, and Gabe, Brendon, and I all climbed out. However, when we walked inside, we found that Gabe had directed us to "Garret's Used Furniture."

"It just said Garrett on the map!" Gabe complained as he lay down on a worn out sofa.

"Maybe we should just get pizza," I said as I sat down next to him.

"If we're going to do that, we should leave now," Brendon said. "It's nearly two o'clock, and I'm hungry."

To be honest, I was pretty hungry too. "Let's go," I said, still a little bit mad at Gabe for screwing up the directions to Garrett Popcorn.

When we got outside and found the DeLorean again, there were three people standing next to it, one of whom was desperately trying to open with a metal rod. "Hey!" I shouted, panicking. "That's my car!"

"Don't move, or I'll shoot," one of the thieves said, pointing a gun in our direction. Gabe, Brendon, and I froze, watching blankly as they broke into the DeLorean. For a moment, I wondered how we would get home without the car, and more importantly, what my parents would do if we ever did make it back to Shermer. They might kill me if they knew that someone had stolen the DeLorean on my watch. Then again, a car wasn't something that was worth dying for, so I stayed in place, afraid for my life.

Just as the thieves were about to drive off with the DeLorean, someone shouted, "Hey, I think there's a Ferrari on 66th Street!"

The three thieves looked at each other for a moment before one of them said, "I'd hate to give up the DeLorean, but we can get more money for the Ferrari."

"I agree," another one said. "Let's go."

The thieves left, and the three of us walked toward the DeLorean. Just as I was about to get into the car, a teenage boy emerged from behind Garret's Used Furniture. He appeared to be around my age, he had pale skin, brown hair, and brown eyes, and he was wearing a T-shirt and ripped jeans. "Wait, you were the one who told the thieves about the Ferrari, weren't you?" Brendon said to him.

The boy nodded, and I said, "You saved our lives."

"They wanted your car, not your life," the boy said.

"My parents would have killed me if the DeLorean got stolen," I said.

"I seriously doubt that," the boy said.

"How can we possibly repay you?" I asked.

The boy paused to think for a moment, and said, "I could use a safe place to stay for the night."

I looked at Gabe and Brendon, and Brendon said, "We'll find a way to make that work. Do you happen to know where Garrett Popcorn is?"

The boy laughed and said, "It's on the other side of town."

Brendon and I glared at Gabe, who exclaimed, "The map said Garrett! How was I supposed to know that it was Garret's Used Furniture?"

"You three aren't from around here, are you?" the boy said.

"We're from the suburbs," I said.

"That explains a lot," the boy said. "By the way, I lied about the Ferrari. You three should get out of here before the thieves realize that there's no Ferrari on 66th Street and come back."

"Why don't you come with us?" I offered. "We'll drive you to Shermer, and we can figure out where you can stay once we get there."

"Yes, that works," the boy said as he climbed into the backseat of the DeLorean. "Thank you...what is your name anyways?"

"I'm Pete Wentz," I said. "What's your name?"

"Ryan Ross," the boy said.

"I think I can do a better job of introducing everyone," Gabe said. "I'm Gabe Saporta, otherwise known as the sexy one."

"Or the egotistical one," I mumbled.

"Pete's the most gothic person I know," Gabe explained. "Brendon's in the back with you - he's a bit of a wild card."

"It's nice to meet you all," Ryan said. "I just have one question."

"What is it?" I asked.

"Why does this car have a backseat?" Ryan asked. "I thought that DeLoreans only had two seats."

"My dad knows John DeLorean," I explained. "This is actually a prototype of the DMC-24 - there's no other car in the world quite like this one."

"Interesting," Ryan said, staring out the window.

"Ryan, what's your favorite kind of popcorn?" Brendon asked.

"Are you still seriously considering going to Garrett?" Gabe asked.

"I'm hungry!" Brendon exclaimed.

Ryan shrugged and said, "I think I can get you there, and if you're wondering, I think that regular buttered popcorn is just fine. Turn left at the light, Pete."

I followed Ryan's directions, while Brendon and Ryan continued to chat in the backseat. "You're so boring," Brendon said. "Chicago Mix is obviously the best."

"At this point, I'll eat anything," Ryan said. "Pete, keep going straight until you hit Lakeshore Drive."

"Weren't we just there?" I said, but Ryan was clearly focused on his conversation with Brendon.

"While we're on the topic of food, I really love sandwiches," Brendon said.

"No kidding," Gabe said. "Every time I go to your house, it feels like you're just sitting on the couch and eating a sandwich, usually while shirtless."

"That only happened once," Brendon said.

"I swear it was at least twice," Gabe said.

"Are we there yet, Ryan?" I asked, sick of hearing Gabe and Brendon argue over something so pointless.

"Almost," Ryan said. "Turn right at the next light, and Garrett should be on your left."

I parked the DeLorean in front of the popcorn shop. "Thanks for the directions, Ryan," I said.

"It was the least I could do," Ryan said.

When we got into the shop, Gabe, Brendon, and I each bought a tin of Chicago Mix. "Ryan, are you getting anything?" I asked.

"I don't have any money," Ryan said. "I haven't had any since I got kicked out of my parents' house."

"How did that happen?" Brendon asked, shocked at what Ryan had just said. Gabe and I looked toward Ryan as we loaded tins of popcorn into the trunk of the DeLorean, but he simply shrugged and got into the car.

Once we were all in the car, Ryan said, "I'll tell you, but you have to promise not to kick me out of the car."

"You didn't murder anyone, did you?" I said.

"No," Ryan said.

"We definitely won't kick you out of the car then," I said.

"Yeah, whatever you did couldn't have been that bad, right?" Brendon said.

Ryan sighed and said, "I'm gay. I tried coming out to my parents, and it didn't go well at all. They kicked me out two weeks ago, and I've been living on the streets ever since."

Tears welled up in Ryan's eyes, and Brendon reached over and gave him a hug. "I'm sorry, Ryan," Brendon said.

"It's not your fault," Ryan said. "Thank you for not freaking out by the way. Most people aren't so nice to me once they realize that I'm gay."

"All three of us are bisexual," Gabe said. "We know what it's like."

Ryan wiped away his tears and then said, "I'd really rather not talk about this too much. Why don't we talk about something happier?"

The four of us ended up chatting about everything from vacations to our favorite books to the weather (which Ryan didn't give a damn about). However, as we approached Shermer, we realized that we still hadn't found a good place for Ryan to stay the night.

"Maybe Ryan could stay at my house," Brendon said. "Ever since my brothers and sisters went off to college, we have more than enough extra space."

"Will your parents be okay with that?" I asked.

"As long as nobody mentions that Ryan is gay, I think they will," Brendon said. "My parents are really involved with the local Mormon church - they're usually willing to help someone in need."

"As long as I have a roof over my head, I think I'll be fine," Ryan said. "Thank you, Brendon."

I parked the DeLorean in the Uries' driveway, and all four of us climbed out. Mrs. Urie immediately opened the door, and Brendon told his mother a sad, but mostly fictional, story about how Ryan had run away from a broken home in the worst neighborhood in the whole city and then saved our lives and asked for only a safe place to stay in return. "Can we please let Ryan stay in Matt or Mason's room for the night?" Brendon asked. "It's the least that we can do."

Mrs. Urie considered it, and then called her husband over. After she retold the story to Mr. Urie, they both argued over whether Ryan should be allowed to stay. Eventually, Mrs. Urie said, "Yes, but only for tonight."

"Thank you, Mrs. Urie," Ryan said. "You won't regret this."

Brendon and Ryan both went into Brendon's house, and Gabe and I went back to the DeLorean. On our way to Gabe's house, Gabe said, "You know, I knew that all of this would happen."

"Really?" I said, skeptical.

"Well, maybe not all of it, but I knew that Brendon would talk to a hobo about popcorn," Gabe said. "It was the second vision that the snake showed me."

"I think you're just making things up, Gabe," I said.

"I'm not!" Gabe exclaimed.

I parked the DeLorean in his driveway, and I asked, "Let's prove it then. What was the third vision?"

"Do you watch Amber Wallace: Consulting Detective?" Gabe asked.

"What does that have to do with anything?" I asked.

"Just answer the question," Gabe said.

"I've watched a few episodes, but I don't watch it regularly," I said. "Why?"

"Amber Wallace is going to die on Amber Wallace: Consulting Detective," Gabe said. "That was my third vision."

"That doesn't even make sense," I said. "Amber Wallace is in the title. How could she die?"

"I don't know, but I saw it happen," Gabe said.

"How about this?" I said. "Let's make a bet. If Amber Wallace dies tonight, I'll let you design my next tattoo."

"Sounds like a deal," Gabe said with a smirk. He climbed out of the DeLorean, and said, "See you later, Pete."

"Bye, Gabe," I said as I drove home. All kinds of things were buzzing through my head, but if there was one thing that was for certain, it was that Gabe would never get a chance to design one of my tattoos.