"You have three questions left."
The little encounter between me and Adam a few days ago had made us seem a little awkward around each other for some odd reason. I mean, the pretend-we-never-talk-to-each- other-and-keep-moving-foward game was very strong.
Yesterday I made the effort of saying hello to him before English started. After that we just kind of avoided each other, even after school when we came to the trees. It was the same old thing we did the day before: I watch him from my tree without him knowing, and he obliviously climbs into his. Finally, I get the courage to say something. I quietly slid out of my tree and walked over to his.
"I thought we were friends now. What happened?" I asked. From there, we started talking again and decided to play 20 questions. The interesting thing about it was that I wasn't allowed to ask any questions.
So here we are, three questions left for me to endure and for him to ask.
"Why do you ask so many questions?" he asks me.
I have to laugh at that. Here he is, asking me questions without me being able to ask back, and he wants to know why I'm so inquisitive.
"Well..." he presses.
"I don't quite know the answer myself. I've always wanted to know about new things, and unless it's too touchy of a subject, I'm not afraid to ask questions. The more I know, the better," I reply as best I can.
Adam chuckles. "That's not always true. Some things are better not to know."
"Is that so? Are there things about you that I shouldn't want to know? Because, honestly, I think I'd like to know everything about you," I blurt without thinking.
Do you really want to know if he could be murderer? If he is, then you'd have to turn him in, and he's the only friend you have.
I hate that my inner voice is usually always right.
"Really?" he asks sarcastically, an eyebrow arched.
No. "Yes."
"You really aren't afraid to ask questions. Sometimes I'm not afraid to answer, but the rules were that only I can ask questions, remember?" he says.
"Well those rules are ludicrous. What's so wrong with me asking a few personal questions? You asked me some."
"You didn't have to answer them. It's a free country. You used your freedom poorly."
"That's completely unfair! Just tell me something I don't know, and I'll put the entire idea in the back of my mind," I beg.
"I'm not sure if you want to know. Because, if you know, you might want to forget immediately."
The happy atmosphere dissipates with those few words. The truth is I wouldn't know if I'd want to forget or if I'd want to remember. I don't know what secrets he's hiding. I don't know much about his past. He can be a secret agent from the FBI. He could be a drug dealer from Compton, California. I don't know. I want to know. More than anything, I really want to know.
"We'll just have to see about that then, won't we, Adam?" I reply with mild fierceness.
"You know, you're very much like that monkey Curious George. I might just start to call you that. Monkey... Has a nice ring to it, yes?"
"That's not at all the point," I scoff, trying to hide the giggle that threatens to come out.
"Neither is you trying to get me to tell a story from my past. Today is supposed to be about you, if you haven't noticed, so my next question–"
YOU ARE READING
Curious Georgia |✔
Roman pour Adolescents"I'm not sure if you want to know. Because, if you know, you might want to forget immediately." After being abused by her father seven years ago, Georgia Cook was afraid of being hurt again. Her day-to-day routine was uniform, and it didn't include...
