Chapter 10: Questions
Haley started the conversation. "Where are you from? When's your birthday? What's your favorite color? What's your favorite type of music?"
She would have kept going, not waiting for my answers, had I not interrupted her. "Slow down! Why don't we write questions for each other to answer and then answer the questions. You can ask anything you like, and the other person has to answer, and no lying."
She thought for a moment, and then said, "That's perfect! We can each take a page out of this notebook." She ripped out a couple of pages from the notebook, leaving my poem in it. Then she ran into the house and got another pencil. At least, that's where I think she went. I couldn't see past the willow branches.
After handing my a sheet of paper, I still had a pencil, she started writing.
I started writing too, but not as rapidly as her. I ended up with these questions:
"What is your favorite food?
What is your favorite color?
What is your favorite flower?
What is your favorite gemstone?
Where were you born?
When is your birthday?
Where is one place you would like to go before you die?
What is your favorite type of music? Favorite song?
What is your favorite book or series?
What is your favorite time of year?"
I could see that her list was much longer.
The Thoughts of Haley Cranmer...
After recovering from my lapse of atention, I started to fire off questions, "Where are you from? When's your birthday? What's your favorite color? What's your favorite type of music?"
August cut me off, saying, "Slow down! Why don't we write questions for each other to answer and then answer the questions. You can ask anything you like, and the other person has to answer, and no lying."
I considered it for a moment, and then realizing that I liked his idea, I said, "That's perfect! We can each take a page out of this notebook." I ripped two pages out of the spiral bound notebook I had brout out earlier for August, Carfully going around his brilliant poem. I ran into the house, yanked open the kitchen junk drawer and rifled through it, looking for a pencil. When I finally found one (it seemed to take hours to find one, when in reallity it only took a second or two) I sprinted back to the willow tree, shoved a piece of paper at August, and stared writing.
"What is your favorite color?
What is your favorite food?
Where were you born?
What is your least favorite food?
What is your 'disturbing secret?'
What is your favorite type of music?
What is your favorite type of poetry?
When is your birthday?
What is one thing you want to do before you die?
When is your favorite time of year?
Who is your favorite author?
What is your favorite gem?
What was the name of an earlier friend?
Have you dated anyone? If yes, who?
Do you like to play cards? If yes, what is your favorite card game?
What is your favorite plant?
What is your favorite memory?
What is your favorite hobby?"
After that I couldn't think of anthing else to ask...