Idris Williamsâ life may seem perfectâŚ
Sure, Idris has confidence and great looks, a famous father and a beautiful girlfriend. Life would be perfect if he could dodge the bullet his father has aimed at his head â following dear old Dad into motivational-speaking stardom. But there doesnât seem to be a way outâŚ
â Until Idris morphs into something green and scaly.
Cadi has finally found a safe and loving home. Then a malicious boy turns her whole world upside down. The next thing she knows, sheâs wandering the streets on New Yearâs Eve, alone.
â Until a crystal leads her to this lizard boy with a smart mouth and massive ego.
To change Idris back into his sexy human self, Cadi must reveal a secret sheâs been holding close to her heart for as long as she can remember. A secret that will send them racing to close a wormhole ahead of a deadly army.
A secret that could change their worlds foreverâŚ
Idris Williamsâ life may seem perfectâŚ
Sure, Idris has confidence and great looks, a famous father and a beautiful girlfriend. Life would be perfect if he could dodge the bullet his father has aimed at his head â following dear old Dad into motivational-speaking stardom. But there doesnât seem to be a way outâŚ
â Until Idris morphs into something green and scaly.
Cadi has finally found a safe and loving home. Then a malicious boy turns her whole world upside down. The next thing she knows, sheâs wandering the streets on New Yearâs Eve, alone.
â Until a crystal leads her to this lizard boy with a smart mouth and massive ego.
To change Idris back into his sexy human self, Cadi must reveal a secret sheâs been holding close to her heart for as long as she can remember. A secret that will send them racing to close a wormhole ahead of a deadly army.
A secret that could change their worlds foreverâŚ
TENSION TICKLES my neck as I swing my backpack over a
shoulder and slam the locker shut. I donât like being late. For
anything. A habit my dad ingrained in me years ago.
Another steel door clangs as I head down senior hall.
âC-sharp,â I murmur, thanks to my curse. Perfect pitch.
âHey, Id, wait for me.â Marek catches up.
I throw my best friend a glance. âGotta move or Iâll be
late to Public Speaking.â
âYouâre a freaking alien, bro. Who cares about being late
to clubs?â
I resist an eye roll. âLike Hendricks wouldnât fry my ass
for being tardy. Besides, donât you have Chess Club?â
âDropped it.â
âWhat?â The. Hell. I stretch my stride down the corridor.
Marek has no trouble keeping up. His legs are longer.
College basketball material, if he had the passion. Even has
the Beasley look. Straight nose and pencil stache.
I canât believe he quit that club though. âThought you
were Emperor oâ Chess.â
âWas. Got bored. Figured Iâd check out Public
Speaking.â
I rake a hand through my wiry curls. âYou and public
speaking are like a long top Afro on Pat Burkeâs head. Just
doesnât sit right, man.â
Marek chuckles. âFigured Iâd spend the first couple of
meetings observing.â
Observing. Right. As in Brianna Jones. I throw him a
sideways glance. âWhy donât you just ask Brianna out?â
âBecause Iâm not Idris Williams.â Marek says my name
like itâs posted on a billboard. In lights. âSon of motivational
speaker extraordinaire, Brandon Williams, and soon to be
clone.â
Clone? In Dadâs dreams. Yeah, his dreams at the expense
of mine, but I donât go there.
Before I shove open the door to Mr. Hendricksâ class, I
turn to Marek. âIâll ask her out.â
âLike hell you will.â
I grin and burst into the room.
âShit, bro,â he mutters as he follows, no doubt hunching
his shoulders and lowering his eyes to the speckled
linoleum floor, trying to appear shorter, less noticeable, a
shadow in the wake of my dramatic entrance.
While I â pause for effect â capture everyoneâs attention
and smile.
Hendricks crosses through the ring of seats where the
club members are assembled. He puts a hand up to high five
me and I slap his palm. âCongratulations, Idris.â His salt-andpepper
eyebrows waggle. âHopper High Schoolâs first winner
of the James Baldwin Go Tell It Public Speaking Competition.â
6 ALEX HAYES
Marek straightens and smacks me on the back. Hard.
But I donât show the pain. âHow come you didnât tell me?â
he murmurs.
I flash him an apologetic shrug.
The other students rise and applaud. Smiles ripple and
grow wider.
Danny Torres whistles. A-flat. Canât help the internal
note-taking.
Wanda Briggs catcalls in F-sharp.
Discomfort spreads into my cheeks like the onset of flu.
Why am I not lapping this up? An inward sigh. Because
every competition I win feels like a loss, another fragment
chipped away from what I want.
Even so, winning has its advantages. Brianna steps up
and hugs me. Tight. She smells like gardenias. âWeâre so
proud of you, Idris.â
I order myself to let her go and pull away. Sheâs on
Marekâs Most Wanted List, not mine. Though if it werenât for
Rebecca, she might be.
Yeah, Rebecca. Those glossy black eyes and the waterfall
curls that tumble around her perfect face.
Brianna studies my features, eyes narrowing. âAre you
okay, Idris? You look kind of green.â
Wanda belts out a laugh. âThatâs called overexposure to
the limelight.â
I grin. Wandaâs half right. âGotta be the overhead fluorescents.
Iâm fine. Hey, BriannaâŚâ I tilt my head in my
friendâs direction. âYou know Marek, right?â Kidding. Of
course she knows him.
Briannaâs golden eyes turn to Marek and she laughs.
Soft, like the rustle of silk. âUh, yeah, Idris. Weâre in band
together. Remember?â
Silken Scales 7
I glance at my best friend meaningfully, trying to give
him an in, but he isnât taking it.
âHey,â Brianna adds. âSpeaking of, my mom wants to
talk to you. After clubs, in the music room. Can you meet
her?â Her momâs the band director.
I nod as something digs into my side. I envision a hot
knife burning out my right kidney, but itâs only Marekâs
elbow.
Wanda breaks the awkward silence by gripping my arm
with her dark brown hand. Sheâs from Senegal and her skin
is as close to true black as you can get. Beautiful.
Her full lips turn up into a sweet smile. âCome on, Idris.
We want to know how it felt being up there in front of all
those people. When they announced your name, did you
freak out or what?â
âI freaked.â Nah, not really. Dad trained me too well. I
accepted the trophy with perfect aplomb. Self-assured,
totally composed, like I was doing the awards committee a
favor by allowing them to present me with first place.
A sideways glance at Marek tells me heâs pissed. I flash
him a Why-are-you-just-standing-there?-Donât-make-meask-
Brianna-out-for-you look and almost hear his
responding growl.
Then he says, âHey, Brianna, heard you practicing last
week. Mozart, right? Awesome strings.â
A snicker almost escapes me. Briannaâs a talented cellist,
but I know what Marekâs thinking. You can play my strings,
anytime.
Wanda drags me over to the other students, leaving
Marek to struggle with small talk. I lean a butt cheek on
Hendricksâ desk, hands in pockets, and answer every question
my classmates throw at me.
My eyes find Marekâs as he and Brianna wander over.
8 ALEX HAYES
Judging by the look heâs returning, he didnât make any
moves on her. I shake my head. Maybe Public Speaking
Club is right where he needs to be.
MAREK PUSHES me out of Mr. Hendricksâ class at the end of
Club. âWhat is up with you? Youâre always looking to stir
things up. You open your mouth and youâre like Magneto.
Brianna practically asked you out. I donât need you stealing
her just when sheâs within touching distance.â
Stealing? He is totally wrong. I straighten my backpack
as we head down the hall. âAsking me to talk to her mom is
as far from asking a guy out as you can get.â
âMaybe she wants her momâs blessing.â
I laugh. âMrs. J knows me about as well as she knows
Brianna. Bet I spend more time in music lab than Brianna
spends at home.â
âWhatâre you saying?â Marekâs voice drops a full octave
and grows hard. âThat sheâs out with other guys? I know she
hasnât got a new dude on the roster, and Jacob Flinn is so far
in the outer reaches heâs a walking black hole.â
âIâm saying sheâs a girl with a social life. Sheâs got girl
friends. If youâre hoping to win her, youâll have to play it
smoother than complimenting her on her strings.â
Marekâs Nike Swoosh eyebrows bump into each other.
âWhat I said was the truth. Briannaâs out of this world on
the cello. Any fool can see that.â
âHear it,â I correct.
âMr. Semantics,â he mutters. âWhatâs happened to you,
Id? You havenât been the same since you started winning all
those stupid speech competitions. Now youâre all Mr.
Slick.â
Silken Scales 9
Mr. Slick? âIf you took the time to polish your one-liners,
youâd have Brianna hanging on your every word.â
Marek shakes his head. âNah, thatâs you, bro. But youâre
barely you anymore. Youâre like an Almond M&M, all shiny
color coating but hardly any chocolate inside.â
âI love Almond M&Ms.â
âYeah, exactly what Iâm saying. Youâve got all sophisticated.
I liked the other guy better. The normal one.â His eyes
narrow. âThe one whoâd settle into a bag of regular M&Ms
and enjoy âem for the chocolate.â
I roll my eyes, not sure what else to say to the King of
Metaphor. Briannaâs attention on me must have seriously
freaked him out.
The hallway hits a tee. One way heads to senior hall, the
other to the music room.
âYou coming with me?â I ask.
âNah. Too much work tonight and Maâs threatened to
drag me to the mall. Christmas shopping for the cousins.â A
stab of laughter shoots out of Marekâs mouth. âSheâs talking
about buying my cousin a sweater. Havenât decided whether
to save his ass or leave him to be slam dunked into one of
Tommy Hilfigerâs latest nautical stripes.â
I grin and throw him a see-ya nod.
Opening the door to the music room, I spot Mrs. Jones
straightening music stands along rows of raised seating.
Two clang together, hitting a middle C.
Moving down the line, the teacher chats to a skinny
blonde who plays clarinet. Um⌠Melanie. The second Mrs.
J spots me, she wraps up their conversation. I lean against
the wall and watch Melanieâs eyes widen as they stray
my way.
Sheâd be attractive if it werenât for the stammer. Itâs
possible Public Speaking Club would buy her back some
10 ALEX HAYES
confidence. But then again, it might break her into a million
tiny pieces.
A contemplative frown twitches but I smooth it away.
Why should I care about fixing her stammer? Sheâs totally
not my type.
I pull in a deep breath, thinking of Rebecca. Canât wait to
see her over vacation. Man, Iâve missed her.
Melanie approaches, watching me as she clutches her
clarinet case to her chest. I sidestep and open the door.
A tentative smile creeps onto her face. âTh-thank you,â
she squeaks.
âWelcome,â I answer, and let the door swing closed
behind her.
Mrs. J smiles, wide enough to make me nervous. Sheâs
dressed super professional in a pencil-gray jacket and skirt,
but her eyes are generous and kind. She isnât going to give
me permission to go out with her daughter, is she? Marek
would slit my throat.
âIdris, Iâm so glad you stopped by.â Mrs. J circles her
Formica-topped desk and picks up a sheet of paper. âI heard
about your award. Congratulations.â
I bob my head and thank her.
âAnd I have to say, it got me thinking.â She crosses her
arms, the sheet of paper curling in her hand, trapped
behind an elbow. âYou need two things to win in competition.
Adequate preparation and confidence. Take
MelanieâŚâ
My breath hitches because Iâd prefer not to. Melanie
sweats fear. Please. Please⌠Oh god, please, Mrs. J, donât ask me
to help Melanie Mills with her nerves.
âSheâll practice, practice, practice,â Mrs. J continues,
âbut the moment she gets in front of an audience, all preparation
takes flight.â
Silken Scales 11
Yeah, like a flock of seagulls. Iâm still holding my breath.
âIdris, Iâd like you to consider entering a music competition.
One for an original music score. Iâve heard you practicing
your compositions in music lab and⌠Well, your
pieces are beautiful, evocative. Iâm impressed. Your music
coupled with your confidence tells me you have every possibility
of taking home a prize.â
In my mind, my lower jaw hits the floor. For the first
time, ever, I stutter. âIâŚUm, I-Iâm really not sure.â Of course
I want to do it, butâŚ
Mrs. J offers a sympathetic smile. âPerforming your own
work in front of an audience is a big step, but youâve already
proven yourself. Audiences donât intimidate you and your
music is worth sharing with the world. You should go for
this, Idris.â
Honestly, Iâd love to, but Dad would have a fit if I entered
a music competition. He hates me playing as it is. Thinks
music is for layabouts and singing is for girls.
âMan, Iâd love to play my music to an audience, but the
preparation⌠Itâs senior year. Iâve got a lot going on, and
more speech competitions lined up in the spring. I appreciate
you thinking of me, Mrs. Jones, but⌠Iâll need to think
about it,â I finish, lamely.
God, whereâs that Mr. Slick Marek was talking about
when I need him?
She nods, but her eyes tell me sheâs disappointed. Sheâs
not the only one. The idea that my music might be valued
by other people is pretty awesome, but Dad would ground
me for the rest of my life if I entered.
The teacher holds out the sheet of paper. âThe entry
deadline is December 31st. Thereâs an online application.
Details are on this flier. If youâre accepted, youâll attend the
competition late January.â
12 ALEX HAYES
I rattle my head and the smooth-talking me makes a
comeback. âThat sounds really exciting, Mrs. Jones. Thank
you so much for sharing the entry details. Iâd love to
compete.â
Mrs. Jâs eyes soften like sheâs hypnotized.
I snatch the sheet from her outstretched fingers and
hightail it.
IâM in the living room, contemplating the music competition,
or more precisely, the impossibility of it. A sigh escapes
me as I finger a new tune on the piano. A glossy black grand.
Only the best for Mom.
She practiced on an electronic keyboard as a kid and
always dreamed of owning the real thing, so Dad bought a
Steinway for her fortieth birthday. Every morning, she practices
scales and her favorite classical pieces, but the afternoons
are mine.
I glance at the clock on the mantel. Momâs usually home
by now, but she said something about a manicure or whatever.
What is it with women and nails? The girls at school
are the same, flashing their talons like eagles about to dive
in for the kill.
Does that make guys their rodent prey? Hmm. Guess I
know a few whoâd qualify. Red-eyed night-dweller types.
The front door slams. Too loud for Mom.
âJanice?â Thatâs Dad.
Uh-oh. My gut tightens. Heâll find me here, and thereâs
no way to fake that I was doing anything else but playing.
The living room is pristine. Wood floors, antique rugs, black
marble fireplace. A space for visitors. Not somewhere Iâd
hang out, except to practice piano.
Silken Scales 13
Dadâs not supposed to be home until tomorrow. He
knows about the used guitar in my bedroom closet, but
doesnât know I play the grand every day heâs away.
Momâs a saint and she thinks Dadâs insane giving me
stick about playing, so itâs our little secret.
He passes the living room entry just as I twist on the
piano seat.
Act casual. âHi, Dad.â
He frowns. One of those deep v-shaped brow deals.
âIdris, shouldnât you be doing homework?â
âDone.â A light day at school, thank the God of Excuses.
His frown doesnât lessen. âHave you seen your mother?â
âNail salon. Should be home soon. Donât think she was
expecting you back today.â
Dad nods. âThat was the plan. Todayâs the anniversary of
the day we met. I decided to surprise her.â Heâs holding a
huge bouquet of long-stemmed roses. Purple. Her favorite
color. âHowâs the Toastmastersâ speech coming along?â
Yeah, I know where this is going, but that doesnât stop
me stumbling into the quagmire. âFigured Iâd use the one
from the Go Tell It Competition.â
Dadâs eyes narrow.
âJustâŚyou know, tweak it a bit.â
His fingers tighten around the rose stems. âIf youâre
going to be a great speaker, Idris, youâve got to keep creating
new work.â
What if I donât want to be a great speaker? What if I donât
want to spend my life motivating people? I gave up with the
protests a couple of years ago, because Dad doesnât give a
crap about what I want.
âBut I havenât had enough hardship in my life to make a
compelling story,â I argue.
Dad crosses his arms. His disapproving parent pose.
14 ALEX HAYES
âThen talk about someone who has, someone you know
whoâs won against amazing odds.â
âI donât know anyone whoâs overcome anything more
complicated than a twisted ankle.â
âThen make one up.â
My eyes widen and my jaw drops. Youâre kidding, right?
The cogs turn in Dadâs brain. I can almost hear them
cranking. He nods as the idea mill starts to churn out
creative nuggets. âA girl. Your age. Bookish. An introvert
who gets bullied in school for having one leg longer than
the other. But she overcomes her oppressors.â
I roll my eyes.
Dad doesnât notice because his mindâs in that innovative
space he goes to when heâs writing his books. Makes me
wonder how much of what he writes is based on truth and
how much is invention.
âHow does she overcome the bullies?â I ask.
âBy becoming a super model.â
Iâm tempted to slap my head. Of course. Why didnât I think
of that?
A smile erases the frown hanging over Dadâs features.
âAnd creates her own designer shoes for women with
similar disabilities.â
Thatâs pushing invention a little too far, Dad.
âDaniella Marino Lombardi,â he says like heâs
announcing the Oscar winner for best actress in a leading
role.
âWho?â
âLook her up. And put the fallboard down before you go.
That piano cost forty grand.â
My head drops backward. Argh.
At first glance, if it looks like a human and talks like a human, you wouldn't generally assume that it would be anything other than human, right? Now, if you started to experience what some would call superpowers or shifting into something with scales, what would you think then? Would you think that you were still human? Hayes will entertain, mystify, and captivate readers with an adventurous spin on some of these concepts.
Idris has always been groomed to follow in his father's footsteps with the motivational speaking business, but hasn't really been asked if that is what he wants. With the love of music and a friend that has an abandoned studio, Idris is forced to play in secret or when his father is out of town. Knowing that his parents adopted him at an early age, he's always known that he was different, but just never how much until he starts to break out into scales. Full blown, green scales all over his body. Running away to live at the studio after a full transformation, he is greeted by a girl who has a lot to hide. The fact that this girl has been searching for someone and seems dead set on that someone being him, he becomes intrigued. Well, by that aspect and the other thing--you know--being thrown across the lot without anyone around, but her. All he knows is that he needs answers for why his world has suddenly turned upside down and she seems a little more knowledgeable about his condition than he does at this point. Sticking together may be in their very best interest, especially after a strange homeless lady starts creeping around with some seriously ominous glowing violet eyes that scream danger.
Hayes has an gripping story, filled with creativity, originality and fascinating characters. This story is one that will grab the reader from the beginning and lure them further into a depth of adventure and magic. The cover is what really draws the reader in at first glance, as you see a white textured-looking background with a dragon that appears to be made out of water. The colors and the name of the story really pop as well, drawing interest to the book. Hayes has well-developed characters that are captivating and likable. Also, the story is very well-written with little to no spelling or grammatical errors. If you are a reader of young adult fantasy and paranormal fiction, you may want to pick up this first installment. Since this is the first installment in The Chameleon Effect Series, the reader is able to dive in.
An electronic copy of this book was provided to Turning Another Page by Reedsy Discovery and in no way affects the honesty of this review. We provide a five-star rating to Silken Scales by Alex Hayes.