Part of Me

16

16

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"Pity and friendship are two passions incompatible with each other."
-Oliver Goldsmith

CAYDEN looked up at me for probably the fifth time in the span of twenty minutes. He kept looking like he wanted to say something, but never did.

"Okay," I finally said, setting my pencil down. "What's up? You've been looking at me like that for the past twenty minutes."

He opened his mouth, but closed it, seemingly contemplating how to phrase what he had to say. "Do you," he cleared his throat, "do you own anything fancy?"

Well, that was certainly not what I was expecting. "I think I have a dress somewhere. Why?"

"My parents are hosting this charity event Saturday, and—"

"And I'm charity?" I fired back angrily.

Did he really think I was that pathetic? Why was he even asking me? So he could introduce me to rich people who could 'help' me? No, thanks.

Cayden's eyes widened. "What? No, of course not! I was asking you to come with me because you're the only person who can make it even remotely bearable."

I recoiled. My insecurities had gotten the best of me again. Ever since my dad died, I was always worried people would take too much pity on me and treat me like a charity case. I was more than capable of taking care of myself.

"Oh," I said softly, my face beginning to burn. "Sorry, I didn't mean to—I just, I've never been that person for anyone."

"I can guarantee that's not true. So, what do you say? Will you come?"

I began nodding, but then stopped. Was I stupid? Why would I agree to go somewhere I so clearly didn't belong? "I...I don't know, Cayden. I don't think I'd fit in at an event like that. The dress I have isn't that fancy, I can't do my hair, not to mention I am not good at talking to people. Maybe you should find someone else. I bet Micah would go with you."

He chuckled. "I bet he would, but my father has banned him. Besides, I think you'd fit in much better than he would. You don't give yourself enough credit, Devyn. I bet you have a lot more social grace than you think. I'll be with you the entire time. I won't leave your side, I promise."

I thought his words over before hesitantly nodding. "Okay. Fine, I'll go."

What are you saying?! Jason and Diane are going to kill you! a voice said in my head. I'd learn to listen to that voice, but I ignored it once a grin came onto Cayden's face.

"I'll pick you up. Will you finally give me your actual address?"

"Fine, but you have to pick me up on the street over." He raised an eyebrow questioningly, but the words were still stuck in my throat. "Please, Cayden."

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Alright." I scribbled my address down on a scrap piece of paper and gave it to him. He glanced at it, pocketing it. I went to close my notebook, but he stopped me. "What's that?"

I realized what he was talking about too late. He snatched the spare paper from my binder and was reading it before I could stop him. "Cayden, don't!"

"It's a poem," he said, more to himself than to me.

My heart stopped. That was the first poem I had written in over two years. Not only was I rusty, but it was incredibly personal. It was about my dad, though it never said that.