Perfect Pitch (The Chameleon Effect Book 2)

by Alex Hayes

  A dramatic sigh echoes back. “It’s almost gone, but I’m gonna need a sticky roller to get the rest.”

  “You used up the last one cleaning your backpack.” I glance at my watch again. “We’ll buy more on the way home. Let’s go.”

  “Don’t forget your cap and gown,” Mom calls as I shuffle Ty down the hall.

  Damn it. I grab the still bagged items off my bed.

  Mom scoops a purse and wide-brimmed hat in the same red as the rest of her clothes. Did she shop for a whole new outfit? It’s not like graduation is that big a deal.

  “Whose car?” I ask as we head for the front door. There’s no question I’ll be driving.

  “Yours,” Ty shouts. “It’s cleaner.”

  “Get the door for your mom,” I call over my shoulder as I lock up and follow them.

  After finding bleacher seats for Mom and Ty, I leave them and search for Shri. Then I remember her gift still sitting on my dresser at home. Crap.

  I pull myself together. Forgetting her gift only means I have an excuse to connect with her later. No worries.

  Finally, I spot her among the sea of caps and gowns. Black eyeshadow and purple lips.

  The sun bakes me through my graduation gown as I weave between seniors, nodding and smiling at people whose existence I’ve barely acknowledged at school over the past six months.

  My gaze meets Shri’s and everyone else fades into the background; my only friend in the whole school eclipses them all. Black on black. What would I have done without her when everything went south with Jake?

  She stops in front of me. “Guess this is it.”

  For the rest of them, maybe. But I can’t let our friendship die or I’ll have nothing left. “An end means the start of something new, right? Let’s find seats.” I lead her to a row of chairs and sit. “Are your parents here?”

  She glances at me between her curtain of braids. “My dad.” The hesitation in her voice makes me pause. She’s told me as much about her family as I’ve told her about mine. Does she have something to hide too?

  “My mom and Ty came.” I nod vaguely toward the bleachers.

  Do I want Shri to meet my family? Do I want to meet hers? It’s not that I don’t want her to know everything about me. The good, the bad, and the ugly. She can hear it all. But I don’t want her learning any more. Not about my alcoholic mother, my asshole of a father, or even my messed up little brother.

  “Any news on the car?” I ask, shoving my family secrets back where they belong, under the wine-stained living room rug.

  She scans the blur of black polyester in front of her. “It has moved on to a better place.”

  The angle of my chair makes sitting forward more comfortable, so I rest elbows on knees. “Meaning?”

  “We donated it to public radio. If the Car Talk guys were still around, they’d be laughing their asses off.”

  I swing my head to look at her. “So you’re getting a new car?”

  Her shoulders shift. “Dad’s working on it. Meaning it’s gonna take a couple of weeks. Maybe longer. And as he’s paying, the only input I get is the color.”

  “Black?”

  She grins. “I told you, I’m turning over a new leaf.”

  I look her over. “Starting when?”

  Her chin lifts. “Tomorrow.”

  I nod but don’t believe her.

  “In the meantime, I’ve gotta get to New York,” she adds.

  “Your dad can’t take you?” I sit back as a couple of soon-to-be graduates shuffle past.

  She shakes her head. “His schedule’s all over the place next week and he hates driving at night.”

  “Then I’ll take you.” The offer comes with no forethought whatsoever, but who cares? I’m a free agent now.

  Her brow wrinkles. “Are you sure? What about work?”

  “Yeah, I’m sure.” I take a breath. “Matt let me go yesterday. Didn’t even give me—”

  “He what?” Her mouth stretches to form an O.

  I shrug. “Like you said to Tom Jacobsen, the writing was on the wall.”

  “Dean, that’s… awful.”

  Is it? I’m not so sure. Working at the farm hadn’t been the same since Shri left.

  “So, anyway,” I continue, “that means I can take you to New York any time you want.”

  She stares at me. “I was thinking Tuesday… but only if that works for you.”

  I shrug. “Calendar’s open.”

  Her eyes narrow. “Any thought about taking Mr. J up on his job offer?”

  “I can’t.” The words come out too sharply.

  She nods and says no more.

  The caps and gowns around us settle into chairs and graduation commences. The principal does a good job lifting the collective spirit, but with my future balanced on a razor edge, it’s hard to get excited.

  I’m glad high school’s over. I’m glad Shri is sitting next to me. I should be glad I’ve been accepted to MIT, but what good does that do me if I can’t go?

  When all’s said and done, we throw our caps in the air. I squint into the bright sky as black squares fall back to Earth with a clatter.

  Shri’s shoulder bumps mine.

  I look at her and part of me wants to start the semester over. Damn, I’m going to miss her. “What are you doing this afternoon?” I ask as we rise and slowly disperse with the crowd.

  “Car shopping, I guess. Dad wants to go out somewhere nice for dinner. That’s about it.” She glances at me. “How about you?”

  “Nothing planned. Maybe take Ty to a movie.”

  She smirks. “Sounds way more fun than car shopping.”

  I laugh. “Maybe we should switch places.”

  Her face crinkles up. “But could I trust you to pick the right color?”

  “That might be risky,” I admit.

  “Dean? Yoo-hoo!” Mom’s voice cracks the glass bubble around us.

  I look over and wave, mechanically.

  “Your mom?”

  Shri’s question sinks to the bottom of my stomach.

  Yeah. That’s my mom.

  Shri elbows me as she gazes at Mom’s outfit. “Candy apple red. That would be a cool color for a new-to-me car.”

  Ty shoulder butts through the crowd toward us, waving his phone. “I got the whole thing on video!”

  I high five my brother, but my attention is on Mom. Her eyes have tightened to pin points as she studies Shri.

  “Mom, Ty, this is Shri.” I glance at my friend. “Mom and Ty.”

  Shri smiles. “Hi, Mrs. Whittier. Ty. Nice to meet you.”

  They shake hands, perfectly polite, outwardly friendly, but I can feel the icy breeze blowing off Mom’s cheery exterior. Coolness flashes out of her gray-green eyes. “So nice to meet you too, Sherri.”

  My jaw tightens. What the hell is that about? I wasn’t looking forward to this meeting, but I didn’t expect Mom to be rude.

  Mom glances around. “Where’s Jake?”

  Shri flashes me a questioning look.

  Yeah, never did tell Mom that Jake and I were done. I answer Shri’s expression with a micro shake of the head.

  “Shri!” comes a voice from over the heads of our classmates.

  I spot a tall, dark-skinned man with concave cheeks making his way toward us.

  “Hey, Dad.” There’s a smile in Shri’s voice. “Meet Dean.” She glances at Mom and Ty. “And his family.”

  Shri’s dad has straight black hair like hers and a closely trimmed mustache. His slacks and collared shirt sit halfway between formal and casual, and there’s a relaxed confidence about him that makes the tension in my chest ease. The guy’s only said one word, and I already like him.

  “Dean, very nice to meet you.” His voice is soft with a musical undertone that’s pleasant and direct. He turns to Mom and Ty. “And a great pleasure to meet you, also.”

  Ty grins, while Mom makes polite noises that end with, “Well, we’d better get going, Dean.” Like we’ve got a train to catc
h or something.

  No chance to talk more with Shri, so I say, with a half wink only she can see, “I’ll be in touch.”

  She puts on a wide smile. “Have fun at the movies.”

  I roll my eyes. “Candy apple red sounds perfect, by the way. Have fun shopping.”

  A flash of dimples and she disappears with her dad into the crowd.

  While I let Pepper in from the backyard, Ty races down the hall, sticky rollers in hand. There’s always been an intensity to my brother, but his behavior didn’t deviate from what I’d call normal until Gran died, as if she’d been the pier that moored him.

  Mom’s purse crashes onto the hall table and her heels hit the wall as she kicks them off. I’m not sure what that’s about, and less sure I want to find out.

  After succumbing to a series of eager licks across my neck, I push Pepper off me. Gotta be the sweat. I need a shower. “Okay, boy. On your mat.”

  Pepper gives me a doleful look but follows my command.

  I head down the hall toward my room, pulling at my shirt collar. As I enter, my eyes fall on the black and silver box resting on the dresser. I’m hoping it gives me a good enough excuse to meet up with Shri before we head to New York on Tuesday.

  Do I mention the New York trip to Mom? Better not for now, and let her think I’m still working.

  I pull off my shirt. The undershirt follows and I rub it against my damp chest.

  “Is she your girlfriend?”

  I jump and spin around.

  Mom leans against the doorjamb, a glass of wine in hand. Her eyes slide across my chest in a way that creeps me out.

  I cross my arms. “Some privacy might be nice.”

  She laughs. “Hun, it’s not like you’re naked.”

  “Half naked,” I grumble, striding to the dresser for clean clothes and dumping my shirt over Shri’s gift before Mom notices it.

  She takes a long sip from her glass. “You didn’t answer my question.”

  Turning back to her, I shake my head. “She’s just a friend.” Not that I get why Mom should care.

  One side of her mouth curls into a sneer. “Are you sure? Friends don’t look at each other that way.”

  What the hell’s she talking about?

  I frown, deep. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

  She throws back her head and gulps down what’s left in the glass.

  “I need to take a shower.” I push past her and head for the bathroom, eager to escape her strange behavior.

  9

  Cadi

  “Are you sure you want to do this?” Idris straddles one of the fancy office chairs in the basement of the Thorny Rose. Rumor has it the old nightclub was owned by a gangster. Well, whoever the previous owners were, they had expensive taste.

  I sit on the leather-clad sectional, shoes off and knees pulled up to my chin. “How else can I give you Valdar’s memories?” Growling softly, I press my face into my palms. “Your mind transference worked just fine in the cave with Mr. Scrim.”

  “Yeah, but Mr. Scrim knew what he was doing, and all I had to do was play his weather memories back to you.” Idris purses his lips. “Are you sure you’ll be able to filter Valdar’s memories?”

  “How hard can it be?” I drop a smirk. “Seriously, Idris, what are you worried about? You know I don’t have anything to hide.”

  He rolls his eyes. “We all have secrets, even if they’re as lame as stealing some kid’s eraser in kindergarten.”

  I wrap my arms around my knees. “Would you think less of me if I had?”

  “No, but that’s not the point.” He huffs. “Maybe there’s stuff I don’t want to know.”

  “Like what?”

  “I dunno.” He thinks. “Your first kiss for example.”

  Ugh. Under the mistletoe. With Dean.

  I shake the thought away and pull back my shoulders. “My very first kiss happened when I was two-and-a-half and you were the recipient.” I gleaned that from one of Valdar’s memories.

  Idris pulls a hand through his hair. “I’m talking adult kisses.”

  “How about we try one specific memory? Something easy to isolate.”

  He crosses his arms over the top of the seat. “Yeah, okay,” but he doesn’t sound so sure.

  “If any other memories leak through, you can pull away and break the connection.” I drop my legs to the ground and stand.

  “Fair enough.” Idris rises from the office chair. “What memory are we sharing?”

  “There’s a cute one from when we were two.” I reach for his hands. “We were sharing a bowl of dringor fruit.”

  He grins. “Okay, let’s go for it. Focus on that memory. I’ll try to pick it up.”

  The memory is an easy one to grab. Running through it is similar to watching a home movie taken from Valdar’s perspective, but with more than just sound and video. There are scents and textures and feelings, too. Valdar’s love for us is palpable, sparkling in the air around us like fireworks. He’s so happy to see us together.

  Idris blows out a breath. “Whoa!”

  “You got it?”

  “Yeah.” He shakes his head like he’s trying to clear it. “That was so cool.” He chuckles. “I loved the part where you kept lifting my chin, like you were trying to help me chew.”

  I smile at the memory. “You wanna try another?”

  He nods, eyes bright at the promise of more happy snippets from our past.

  Sorting Valdar’s memories from my own isn’t as easy as entering Valdar in Google, and the more scattered the memories, the easier I could lose focus. So we start small. Some teaching sessions. Family gatherings with both my parents and Idris’s. Trips to the playground, a rainforest where we crawl up purple trees and swing from turquoise vines.

  The remaining memories are disparate but few enough that I think I can gather them into a single stream. I’ll be so glad to finish up.

  “Last ones,” I say, glancing at the clock on the wall and taking Idris by the hands. It’s getting late and I’ve work tomorrow. Shri’s expected on Tuesday, and until she arrives, I won’t hear the final word on Dean’s summer plans.

  Best not to think about that.

  Idris looks weary and for good reason. Not all the memories I’ve shared have been joyous. He’s witnessed some frustration and regret, too.

  After pushing on a smile, he tightens his fingers around mine.

  I refocus on gathering those last memories, bouncing from one timespan to another, in no particular order. The crystal tree cutting comes into mind with a memory of Valdar and my parents discussing its preparation for storage. Mr. Scrim slips in with an image of the cutting wrapped around his chest. Then the forest around the cave and the black bear. Papa chats over the kitchen table about getting a dog, about offering Shri and Dean a job for the summer, and…

  Idris snatches his hands from mine. “Guess you got distracted.”

  I glance down at my palms, which still tingle from his touch. “Sorry. Those last memories of Valdar’s were harder to stay focused on.”

  “Yeah, they were all over the place.” His tone says he’s had enough of this emotional ping pong, anyway. He rubs both hands over his black curls. “So… who’s Dean?”

  A stone drops into the pit of my stomach.

  The frown on Idris’s face furrows deeper. He’s got to be picking up my dread at that question.

  I gnaw on my lip, then answer, “A friend.”

  An eyebrow lifts. “So how come you never mentioned him before? You talk about Shri plenty.”

  Subterfuge won’t work, not with our crystals tuned in to each other’s emotions.

  I drop onto the sectional. “Because Dean’s…” Where do I even start with Dean? “Different.”

  Idris crosses his arms. “That’s not telling me a hell of a lot, Cadi.”

  A sigh escapes me. “It’s complicated.”

  His lips flatline. “‘Kay, in what way?”

  My head drops against the padded leather as I press my knuc
kles into my eyes. “I don’t know. He… we…” I straighten up. “He kissed me, okay.” I stare into Idris’s frozen features. “On Christmas Eve.” I shrug. “A mistletoe thing.”

  Only it was more than that. He said he loved me.

  “Last Christmas? Like a few days before we met?”

  What is that weird emotion coming off him? Jealousy?

  His crossed arms press deeper into his chest. “So you liked him?”

  Accusation, too. Exactly the reason I didn’t mention Dean to Idris in the first place. The whole episode was better left in the past.

  I scoot deeper into the seat cushions. “I hardly knew him. Then he saw me lift the tractor off Papa and his idiot best friend posted what I’d done on Facebook.” I narrow my eyes as I meet his. “That’s why I left. So I guess I’m mostly mad at him.”

  Idris perches on the arm of the couch. “So why am I picking up a boatload of uncertainty from you?”

  Damn crystal, leaking information. “I don’t know. I’d hoped I’d never see him again. Then Papa went and offered Dean a job.”

  “Did he take it?”

  “No.”

  Idris nods, his face looking anything but placated. “Seems to me there’s unfinished business between you.”

  “Dean turned the offer down, so it doesn’t matter.” I reach for Idris and curl my fingers around his. “I left Vermont because of what Dean did. He opened his mouth and my life there hit the fan. So I doubt I’ll ever trust him again.”

  “Okay.” Idris slides onto the seat beside me, nodding, slowly. “If you want me to kick his ass—you know, for old time’s sake—just let me know.”

  10

  Dean

  Sunday afternoon. The wait at the mall hairdresser’s is half an hour. Ty sprawls in the chair next to mine, messing with something on his phone, while I lean back and watch Florence, the hairdresser who used to work alongside Mom, twist tinfoil around some lady’s highlights.

  I close my eyes, more tired than usual. Falling asleep took forever, because Mom was up half the night chatting loudly on the phone in her bedroom.