I write on my paper. This poem is a bothersome:

Why should we ask?
What do we ask for?
Asking is a waste of time.

I can't think of anything else to write, much less having to rhyme them. Why do we ask, I thought to myself. Detention and I don't mix well together, and I'm supposed to write one or more stanzas. I didn't do anything troublesome, but the teacher in front of me thought differently...

"Why do we have to question," I remember Josh asking.

"Answer the question, Lilywhite," Ms. Bee growled at him.

"It's better to raise hands and interrupt," Josh annoyed her if I recall correctly.

"Josh!"

"Just...please, answer the question," the girl besides us to our right in the lavender suit mumbled underneath her breath.

"I'll answer with a question," Josh paused for a second then continued. "Why ask when there's no right nor wrong answers in this class?"

"That's a dumb question," I snorted, saying something along that line.

"Brenda," Ms. Bee starts off saying, "detention with Josh after school."

"What," I squealed.

And that's what got me here with Josh after school - at least for the first half of the hour. I wish he could of took his time so I wouldn't be left alone. The only reason why I'm in this class is because he dragged me here. I'm not very creative like Josh is. He loves to write more than I do. Creative Writing isn't where I wanted to be for my fifth period, but Josh wanted a familiar face. He really could of kept me company than went out that door after thirty minutes of his time.

Why do we ask, I let my thoughts wander off. Well, we're curious creatures - or beings. There are people out there who ask for no reason, those to get answers, and those who are just "curious cats." That's when it hit me. I stopped delaying time and start on the poem once again. Darn you Josh Lilywhite, I thought to myself, why do you have to inspire the teacher with this prompt? I calm myself, and I thought up on an idea what to write. Now, uh, what rhymes with ask?

Why should we ask?
What do we ask for?
Asking is a waste of time.

Though a task - we're curious cats.
We've let it an open door.
Sometimes, there can be a climb.

I don't think I tried my best on that very last line. My mind wanders off again and randomly thought of the song "The Climb" by Miley Cyrus. Why am I like this? I thought to myself, frowning. Not wanting to spend another minute in here, I turned my paper in for Ms. Bee.

"Did you learn anything today," she asked while yawning and taking the paper from me.

"If we don't keep asking questions, then we're not curious enough," I chose my words carefully especially on what I say next. "Josh may be creative more than I am, but I'm more curious than he is."

"That's one way you can look at it," Ms. Bee is pleased. "You may go."

I went out the door on my left and closed it behind me. I look to my left and see Josh sitting down fast asleep. I guess he actually did wait for me. I sat down in front of him, his head on his knees and his binder and books in between his body and legs. I sat down like him, and I poked at the top of his sleeping head.

"Josh, wake up."

"Hmm," he mumbled.

"Josh," I gently wake him up with my soft voice. "Wake up."

"Hmm, only Brenda near me," Josh muttered in his sleep.

I was about to shake his body up awake, but I saw a piece of paper sliding off from in between him. I picked it up, and apparently he might of made another copy of his poem that he had to write. I couldn't help but read it.

Asking...
It's what we do.
But that's not me.
What can I say...

Everytime I think of different ways,
Different ways to ask.
Everytime instead,
I don't act normal and be a troublesome.

She's a beauty to everyone.
She's special to me.
Asking is a waste of time.
She won't see me other than a bad boy.

Her long hair...
It can wrap me up nervously.
Her soft voice...
It can let me forget what I ask.

She likes free verses.
I like it to rhyme.
Somewhere in between,
We'll rhyme in rhythm somewhere.

Asking is difficult,
Difficult to certain questions.
But that's not me,
But I want to ask her.

The question...
What I want to ask her...
Will you be mine?
Because you'll always be mine.

Is this about me, I thought to myself. I wonder if he got in the football team just to get my attention. No, that can't be why. I see him waking up, sitting up. He moans and yawns. I yawn as well. It's past three in the afternoon, and we should be heading home by now. I gently put my left hand on his right shoulder as he looks up at me. Before he could say anything, I thought I could surprise him.

"Hey, you're -"

I interrupted him by kissing him on his "o" lips. I felt the inner lips making the "o." I pull back and see his reaction: surprised. I smile back at him. We go on the same direction, but I guess I can walk myself home. I left him there and gain a head start for myself to walk home. I turn around and see him standing up, still looking at me shockingly. I give him blows of kisses and turned around walking myself home.

"Wait," he yelled behind me, his footsteps getting closer every second.

I turned around once again. I face him as he stopped right in front me. His tall height blocks the sun, the rays surrounding around his body. What is this, a movie or something? I cleared my mind and look up at him.

"I can't deny it," he whispers to me. "I'm a fool when I'm around you. I can't help but be a fool. Some things in life we can't rewind."

"Okay, that last bit you stole from Rudy Mancuso's song 'Mama.'"

"It's your favorite right," he asked me, though he's not wrong. "Let me walk you home, please?"

I smile, but I back away when he wraps his arm around my back. I let him wear a confused mask, so I cleared my throat.

"Let me hear the question," I told him.

"May I walk you home?"

"Not that question," I corrected him. "Ask me. I want to hear it."

With that, he just stood there with his arms frozen in place in midair. I'm surprised to see how he suddenly became nervous or scared. I went up to him and rub his arms slowly. I continue smiling, my eyes probably flirting with his own pair of eyes. I hear him gulping and swallowing. Then, I finally hear him say it.

"Um...uh," he starts off before asking, "will you, uh, g-go out...with, um, with me?"

"That wasn't so hard, was it?"

"Shut up," he mutters softly.

"Kiss me like you miss me, Red."

"That's from Deadpool 2, you smart mouth."

"You were waiting for me, so you must have missed me."

Asking can be hard. So I guess in a way, I agree with Josh. There's also the question of marriage; my parents both wanted to marry each other, and they told me they were scared to death to ask one another. Oh yeah, my parents are gay; I have two dads, so I'm adopted. Anyways, in Josh's and my parent's shoes, asking can be hard. It was hard for my older sister to ask her best friend to be her girlfriend. Asking certain questions is difficult for some people. I can now see why Josh couldn't ask me, seeing how he might have been scared that I would say no.

My thoughts were interrupted when Josh kissed me. I pulled back and pecked him on the cheeks. We walk hand in hand as we walk ourselves home. Nothing eventful happened today but for this very moment.