When You Came Back (Matters of the Heart Book 1) Read online

  table of contents

  Title Page

  Free Book

  List of Spanish Words

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Author's Note

  Acknowledgements

  Dedication

  About the Author

  Books by Yesenia Vargas

  Copyright

  When You Came Back

  a novel by

  Yesenia Vargas

  Free Book!

  Meet Ariana and Carlos.

  Ariana never would have guessed finally having a boyfriend would come at such a huge price.

  She doesn’t know how long she can keep up the lie to her parents.

  And she never realized how much her heart might have to pay if this relationship isn’t something Carlos is ready for.

  Read their story now. Sign up at http://smarturl.it/yvfreebook2

  I’ll send you the prequel to the Changing Hearts series for free as a small thank you when you sign up for my exclusive book updates :)

  You’ll also have access to free advanced review copies, exclusive reader giveaways, and sneak peeks of what I’m working on next.

  You can unsubscribe at any time.

  Get started at http://smarturl.it/yvfreebook2.

  List of Commonly Used Spanish Words

  tía: aunt

  tío: uncle

  mija: shortened version of mi hija, or my daughter; commonly used by mothers, aunts, or other older female figures to younger girls or women

  novio: boyfriend

  ay Dios mio/Dios mio: oh my God/my God

  chapter one

  I roll my eyes at the two girls blocking my locker.

  It’s the first day of school, but Mrs. Barnes won’t care. I had her last year, and she’ll mark me tardy if I’m not in her stupid World Lit class in about one minute.

  People keep shoving their way in between me and these girls blocking my locker.

  “Excuse me,” I make myself say.

  The girls keep talking.

  “Oh my gosh, did you see the new guy? I think he’s a junior. He is soooo hot…”

  “No way…” This girl’s eyes bulge out as she listens.

  “Yeah. Like tall. Strong-looking but not too much. Black hair. Nice butt.”

  Yeah, another guy at this school who’s immature, a jerk, or an immature jerk.

  What really scares is me how these girls are all over them anyway.

  Someone pushes past me and hits me on the head with their backpack, and I almost fall over. I look to see who it was, but it’s impossible to tell with the hallway so crowded. I hate being short. I curse under my breath and look back at the girls who are now in front of me.

  I say it louder this time.

  “You’re blocking my locker.” I only meet one girl’s eyes for half a second as I say it. She looks down at me and rolls her eyes as she and her friend finally get out of my way. And take their time, of course.

  “Ugh. What a loser,” one of them says as they walk away.

  I stare back at them as they leave. Their long, shiny locks of hair mock me, and I push away the urge to just take a handful and pull. Instead, I look at the combination written on my hand and open my locker. Takes me three times.

  Damn thing.

  I unzip my book bag and throw last period’s giant science textbook in there. It lands with a loud metal thud. Chances are I won’t take it out again until the end of the year. I don’t even know why they even give these to us anymore. Everything’s online.

  I slam the locker shut and get going to 11th Grade World Lit. I wonder what amazing things this year of high school holds for me.

  Probably another year of hell.

  I shake my head to myself, adjust my glasses, and walk to class, disappearing into the faceless crowd that is high school.

  ###

  I actually stop and do a double take when I see him sitting there in World Lit class.

  Like straight out of a cartoon.

  Someone bumps into me, and I finally step into the classroom and out of the doorway.

  I don’t know how long I stand there like an idiot, staring at him.

  But the bell rings and Mrs. Barnes is telling me to get to my seat.

  I tear my eyes away from him. He’s been staring at something on his desk this whole time. I find an empty seat in the back row.

  I ignore the snickers and looks as I lean my backpack against my desk and pull out my mostly empty binder.

  My eyes go to him again as I reach for a pencil. I’d put my hair in a bun this morning, but already some flyaways are in my face. I tuck them behind my ear. That’s when I get a good look at him.

  Mrs. Barnes starts saying something as she’s handing out papers. It’s another syllabus like every other class today. I push my glasses up my nose.

  He still hasn’t noticed me.

  He looks so different than the last time I saw him.

  But I know it’s him.

  Even if the smile I always knew him for is gone. Maybe he’s tired, but his eyes seem somehow different, faded. I still can’t believe he’s just a few rows over.

  I mean, the last time I saw him, we were kids.

  And now he’s sixteen, seventeen. I try to remember his birthday.

  “Katia, are you listening?”

  I jerk my face forward. I feel like a deer in headlights, everyone’s eyes on me.

  Is he looking at me?

  I can’t bear to turn his way. Not when Mrs. Barnes is giving me the look.

  I nod, and she goes on. I stare at the syllabus in front of me and try to focus.

  But I can’t.

  Brian’s back.

  Maybe I’ll finally find out why he left.

  ###

  The first thing I notice about Brian is that he’s definitely not a nine-year-old boy anymore.

  I guess I always pictured him like that when I thought about him and where he might be, what happened to him, but he’s all grown up.

  Over the last eight years, I got wide hips, an hourglass waist, and boobs.

  Brian got tall, and his hands became strong, his shoulders wide.

  His hair is still ebony black, though. Long enough to grasp.

  Harry Potter hair.

  I still don’t think he’s seen me.

  And I don’t see him again until lunch.

  So far, we only have second period together, but we’re both scheduled to go to first lunch.

  He’s already sitting down when I walk into the cafeteria.

  It looks like someone’s already invited him to the table full of the popular kids.

  I hate the popular kids. I’m allergic to the fake.

  I finally get through the long line.

  Crap. Where am I supposed to sit? I hadn’t thought about this until now.

  I wonder if Adam has lu
nch right now too. I forgot to text and ask him.

  I walk over to the cart with all the ketchup, mayonnaise, and stuff until I can figure out where to sit. The cafeteria’s pretty packed.

  I slowly squirt some ketchup onto my tray, but there’s already a short kid waiting behind me. Probably a freshman from the looks of him.

  Really?

  I head to the napkin dispenser and grab napkins as I look around one more time.

  There are empty seats here and there, but I don’t wanna be the awkward person who just sits next to a bunch of people who’d rather be alone. Or be told that “this seat is saved for someone” or some other crap.

  I finally spot him. He spots me too and gives me a small wave.

  It’s Adam.

  Thank God I don’t have to sit by myself today.

  He’s sitting by himself at a round table near the back.

  I pass Brian on the way there. There are so many people sitting at his table asking him a million questions, like where’s he from and stuff, that Brian doesn’t notice me slow down some while passing his table. They don’t seem to recognize him. I guess he is pretty different, but even so.

  How do you not recognize someone you went to school with up until fourth grade? Because we were all in the same class at some point throughout elementary school. The popular kids didn’t become the popular kids until middle school or high school.

  That’s when everyone changed, showed who they really are, and went their separate ways via cliques.

  Including me.

  And including Adam, who’s always stuck by me. Maybe the only person who’s stuck by me since about eighth grade when he moved here.

  I sit down next to him, my eyes back on Brian. He’s talking to everyone, but I can tell he doesn’t feel like making conversation.

  I wouldn’t like a bunch of people in my face either on my first day at a new school.

  “Who is that? You know him or something?” Adam asks, glancing over at Brian and looking him up and down for a second.

  Adam and Brian almost couldn’t look anymore different. Adam is shorter but still at least three or four inches taller than me and not as lean as Brian. And his hair is a dirty blonde. His whole look says white boy while Brian’s tan skin and black hair give away that he’s Hispanic.

  Adam turns back to me. He doesn’t miss a thing. He moved here in the middle of eighth grade. I still remember him walking into homeroom, not like he owned the place, but like he already belonged. All confident and stuff.

  Maybe that’s why no one ever bothers him.

  I finally look back at Adam.

  “That’s Brian,” I say. It feels weird to say his name out loud. “He used to come to this school. Or the elementary school, I guess. We were friends until he moved in fourth grade.”

  That’s all I can say for now. I tear my eyes away from him. I feel like any second he’s gonna get the feeling someone is staring at him and turn around and see me.

  And I realize why that bothers me. I mean, if I remember him, doesn’t he remember me? We weren’t just friends at school. We were neighbors. We hung out all summer before fourth grade, and then we were in the same class that year.

  I just thought maybe he’d wonder about me. I glance at him one more time, and I see he’s nodding at some girl who’s sat down beside him and is telling him something. He smiles and turns towards her.

  I stare down at my food and start eating, going through the motions so I have something to do.

  “What’s wrong?” Adam asks, putting away his phone.

  “Nothing,” I say, giving him a small smile. But I make myself not look at Brian anymore.

  ###

  Sixth period is Physical Education. I don’t even know how I got stuck in this class. I hate P.E. I had asked for computer classes. At least then I’d be able to mess around online for an hour while I was at school.

  But no. They put me in P.E., which means changing out clothes in the locker room and dripping in sweat by the end of the day.

  My only consolation: a free A-plus.

  Something to balance out the barely C I got last year in science.

  We don’t have to change out today. Just sit on the bleachers and listen to the coach talk through his own syllabus and listen to all the rules about lockers and changing out. I had P.E. freshman year so I already know how everything works.

  What I don’t get is why I have to take this class again if I already took it the one required time. The other classes must be full, but you’d think being an upperclassman now and all, I’d actually get the classes I want for once.

  Nope.

  I climb the bleachers several rows up until I’m as far as you can go. The bleachers are only half out. They’re the kind that fold up into the wall.

  I put my backpack down and glance around. I don’t see anyone I can talk to. I know Adam’s in my next class, but it looks like I’ll be on my own in here.

  A tenth grader named Bailey walks in and starts to climb the bleachers. She hasn’t seen me yet. She’s okay, nice enough.

  I’m completely okay with not talking to anyone in this class. Ninety-nine percent of the people in this school annoy me. Adam’s the one percent who doesn’t.

  I’m on my phone, texting Adam how lame this school year is gonna be, when I hear someone else coming up the bleachers. I’m the only one this high up so I automatically lift my eyes.

  It’s Brian. He has his backpack on his shoulder, and he ends up taking a seat a couple of rows down from me.

  I put my phone away and slide a bit closer to him.

  I don’t know if this means that my year just got better or worse.

  Because if Brian isn’t gonna talk to me for whatever reason, if he doesn’t remember that we used to be friends, this year probably just got worse.

  It might suck.

  I’ll fill out the request to change class form. I don’t care if those never work. In fact, I bet the principal delights in setting them on fire. The teachers are probably in on it.

  But they’ll have to approve my request to change classes.

  Brian looks at me.

  He’s actually looking at me. And I’m staring at him like an idiot. Again. Except this time he clearly sees me doing it.

  And then there’s this weird look on his face for about two seconds before he turns away.

  But I think I know the look that came across his face.

  First, recognition. I think he knows who I am. That I’m Katia, the short girl with big glasses and long brown hair from fourth grade who was stuck to him like glue.

  And then there was something else on his face. I don’t know how to describe it, but I got the message.

  Brian knows who I am, and he doesn’t want anything to do with me.

  chapter two

  What the hell did I do to Brian to make him not want to talk to me?

  If anybody should not want to talk to someone else, it should be me not wanting to talk to him.

  He’s the one who left. Who just left without saying anything. Without telling me he was moving away. And he wasn’t coming back.

  Not soon anyway.

  That’s another thing.

  Why is he back all of a sudden? Why did he have to move away, and why is he back now?

  The more I think about it, the more I want to know. But that would mean talking to Brian, asking him these questions. Am I willing to do that?

  I’m not sure. I’m not sure I want to talk to someone who doesn’t want to talk to me. I’ve had enough of that the last several years, thank you very much.

  It’s bad enough that everyone thinks they’re God’s gift to the world around here. Like they’re too good to even look at you.

  I roll my eyes at this as I slide my notebook into my backpack. Everyone else is packing up too. The final release bell will ring any minute now.

  The first day of school is over. Thank the Lord. This day is always the hardest one of the year. And the last day of the year can’t get he
re fast enough.

  The last day of high school can’t get here fast enough in my opinion.

  For now, at least, trig is over.

  “Did you finish those math problems?” Adam asks. He sits in front of me in this class.

  “Most of them, I think,” I say, standing up and slinging my backpack over my shoulder. He does the same. Most people are already heading out the door, and the teacher, Mr. Powell, is still at his desk like he has been for the last forty minutes after giving us problems to do in class. I’m actually not even sure if he notices that we’ve all left.

  Adam and I walk out the door.

  “So what’s up with you and that Brian guy?” Adam asks as we squeeze past people. His locker isn’t far from mine so we’re headed in the same direction.

  I shrug. “Nothing. I was just—Nothing.”

  He stops at his locker, and I keep going until I’m at mine. I glance at my hand for the combination again and open it in a few seconds.

  I already have all my assignments with me so I just shove some more stuff in there. I hate carrying a heavy backpack. I already took a picture of the math problems in our textbook so I don’t have to take it home.

  I zip up my backpack and slam my locker closed again. We ride the bus home so we can’t take our time. Adam’s already heading my way. He joins me, and we walk down the hall and turn left down the science wing. The buses are parked outside where this hall ends.

  “When did you say you knew the new guy?” Adam asks.

  I sigh. I can’t believe he wants to keep talking about this. Why can’t he just let it go?

  “Fourth grade. It’s been a while.” I stare straight ahead. I can already see my bus from here. We walk out into the sunlight.

  “That’s weird. We have Art together, and I heard him say he’s lived in Cartersville his whole life.”

  I stop and blink at Adam then. That can’t be right. That’s him. That’s his face. His first and last name. Brian Romero. He lived in this town up until he was nine years old. Not forty-five minutes away in Cartersville.

  Adam says bye and walks off as the buses come to life one by one, but I hardly hear him. I get on my bus, which is just a few steps away.