Change of Heart
Authors: Jennifer L. Allen
Change of Heart
By Jennifer L. Allen
Change of Heart
Copyright © 2015 Jennifer L. Allen
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, including electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is unintentional and coincidental. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to the seller and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Published: Jennifer L. Allen 2015
Editor: Aimee Lukas
Cover Design: Jennifer L. Allen
Dedication
This one’s dedicated to my nieces and nephews.
Ben, Maddie, Ev, DJ, Gabby, Amelia and Thomas.
I love you all and don’t you dare read another
page of this book until you’re at least 18 years old!
Table of Contents
Prologue
Casey
Fifteen Years Ago
“We’re gonna be best friends.”
I looked at the redheaded boy with the bright green eyes like he was crazy. He was a boy, and boys were mean, dirty and disgusting. I yanked my hand out of his.
“No way! Boys are gross!”
I ran away from him, full speed in the opposite direction. My house was right across the street from the boy’s house. The only reason I’d gone over there in the first place was because there was a big truck in front of the house earlier that morning and big men carrying furniture. I wanted to see who was going to live in Sadie’s old house. Sadie had been my best friend, but she moved. I missed her. Now that boy thought he was going to be my best friend. That wasn’t gonna happen. I was never going to be best friends with a boy.
Just as I reached my side of the street, I tripped on an overgrown root and fell down.
“Are you okay?” the boy called out from behind me.
He’d been following me!
I tried so hard not to cry. I was six years old, practically a big kid. Big kids didn’t cry. And I really didn’t want him to see me cry.
“I’m fine,” I said as I tried to stand up but struggled. The boy held out his hand, and I took it even though I didn’t want to.
“Your knee is bleeding,” he pointed out once I was on my feet in front of him; he squatted down to get a better look at the damage.
I looked down, and sure enough, there was a nasty gash on my knee. And what made everything even worse was that my brand new white dress was dirty. There was blood on the hem and dirt on the skirt. It was ruined! I tried not to cry, I really did, but I couldn’t help it. My knee hurt, and Momma would never let me get another pretty dress again.
“It’s gonna be okay,” he soothed, “are your mom and dad inside?”
I nodded, still looking down. I was embarrassed that I fell when I was running away from him. And I was even more embarrassed that a few tears escaped.
“Let me help you inside.”
“I’m bleeding, not broken,” I snapped.
“I know that. I just want to help you.”
Now he had a sad look on his face. I’d hurt his feelings. Now I felt bad. I didn’t like hurting anyone’s feelings. Even gross, dirty boys. Momma said that’s not nice.
“Fine,” I said.
His face perked right up. His smile was big, and his teeth were very, very white. He had a nice smile. He stepped to my side with the bloody knee and wrapped his arm around me.
“Here, lean on me,” he said. I did and together we made it into my house.
My mom was in the kitchen, and she dropped the dishtowel when she saw us hobbling through the door.
“Casey, what happened?” she rushed over and knelt in front of me.
“She fell,” the boy answered for me. I scowled at him.
“Who’s this?” my mom asked me.
“I’m Decker,” he said, answering again before I could open my mouth.
I huffed, “I can talk, you know.”
“But you don’t know my name,” he explained, his hands out to his sides like he was stating the most obvious thing in the world. It annoyed me that he was right.
“Well, it’s so very nice to meet you, Decker,” my mom said, ignoring me. “Thank you for helping Casey to the house,” she added, beaming at him like he was the nicest boy she’d ever met. Maybe he was a little nice.
He shrugged his small shoulders, “That’s what friends do. And Casey and I are gonna be best friends.”
My mom smiled down at him and my grimace deepened. He was a little nice, but we would not be best friends. He was still a boy.
“Casey, what do you say to Decker?”
“Thank you for helping me,” I muttered quietly. I knew better than to ever not do what my mom said, even if I wasn’t happy about it.
“You’re welcome, Casey.” He smiled his big smile again. It made him look a little goofy when he showed all his teeth like that.
I continued to glower at him as my mom cleaned and patched up my knee. Decker stayed right next to me in the kitchen the whole time. After my mom was done, she sat us at the table with milk and cookies. I didn’t know why she gave my milk and cookies to him, but she saw my frown and told me to share.
“Thanks for sharing your cookies, Casey,” Decker said happily as he swung his feet back and forth under the chair. Every now and then one of his feet hit one of the legs of the table and it caused ripples in my milk. It bothered me.
“You’re welcome,” I grumbled back.
“You don’t like me, do you?” he asked sadly, stopping the motions of his feet.
I didn’t answer him.
“It’s okay,” he stood from the table, leaving his half-eaten cookie behind.
“Where are you going?” I asked, surprised that he was leaving without finishing his snack. Who doesn’t finish their cookies and milk?
“Home,” he answered simply.
“Why?”
“Because you don’t like me.” His face looked sad again. I’d hurt his feelings again. I didn’t mean to be mean. And I actually liked his smile.
“You can stay and have milk and cookies.”
“But you don’t like me,” he mumbled quietly.
“How about I try to like you,” I offered, shrugging my right shoulder.
He smiled his big smile, and this time I smiled back.
“It’s a deal,” he said, quickly sitting back down as if I’d change my mind.
“But no more talking about us being best friends, okay?”
“Okay,” he nodded, the small word muffled by the cookie in his mouth.
I didn’t care what anyone said. I would never be best friends with a boy.
Chapter One
Casey
First Day of Senior Year
I’ve always hated the first day of school. At least this is the first day of senior year. Ten more months and I’ll be out of here. I’m sitting at one of the wooden picnic tables outside of the high school with Jane, one of my friends from the advanced placement classes, if you could even call her a friend—she’s more of an acquaintance. Between my studies and extracurricular activities, I don’t have much time for friends. Jane and I are always in the same classes and often study together.
It’s blisteringly hot in August in Charleston, but there’s a light morning breeze that’s oddly more refreshing than the forced air pumping through the school. Lord knows we’ll get enough of that over the next eight hours.
“I can’t believe we don’t have calculus together,” Jane whines for what has to be the tenth time since we’d received our schedules a few weeks ago.
“Be grateful you don’t have Mr. Anderson,” I tell her. “He spits when he talks. You got lucky with Mrs. Stevenson.”
She seems to weigh the options, then nods. “You’re absolutely right. Good luck with that.”
“Thanks,” I roll my eyes. I’ll be sitting in the back of that class for sure.
I hear some giggling and whispering coming from behind us and resist the urge to turn around and look. People calling you a nerd or geek and otherwise poking fun at you goes with the territory when you are in AP classes. I’m used to it, though it never ceases to amaze me how easily people put others in certain boxes, especially in high school. Those people have a rude awakening in store for them when they hit the real world and are at the bottom of the food chain, they are in for a surprise—and not a good one.