Blog Tour - Book Review: Farsighted by Emlyn Chand
SYNOPSIS. Alex Kosmitoras’s life has never been easy. The only other student who will talk to him is the school bully, his parents are dead-broke and insanely overprotective, and to complicate matters even more, he’s blind. Just when he thinks he’ll never have a shot at a normal life, a new girl from India moves into town. Simmi is smart, nice, and actually wants to be friends with Alex. Plus she smells like an Almond Joy bar. Yes, sophomore year might not be so bad after all.
Unfortunately, Alex is in store for another new arrival—an unexpected and often embarrassing ability to “see” the future. Try as he may, Alex is unable to ignore his visions, especially when they begin to suggest that Simmi is in danger. With the help of the mysterious psychic next door and new friends who come bearing gifts of their own, Alex must embark on a journey to change his future.
A copy of this book was provided by the author for review purposes.
At Sweet Blossoms, Mom makes a huge fuss over my “becoming a ladies’ man, and with such pretty ladies too.” I keep my hands clasped on my cane to keep myself from strangling her. After making sure she’s thoroughly embarrassed me, Mom closes up shop early, swings by the pizza parlor, and delivers the three of us to an empty house.
“Dad’s out on another job interview,” Mom explains, laying out paper plates and napkins and extracting a two-liter bottle of orange pop from the fridge. “Let’s save him a couple of slices, okay?”
Shapri flips open the lid off the first pizza box. “Ick, ham and pineapple,” she says, moving on to the next box. “Now here’s what I’m talking about, pepperoni with extra cheese. Yum!”
“Pineapple and ham is Alex’s favorite,” Mom announces from the kitchen, as she pours pop into Dixie cups.
“Yes, it is,” I say, nudging Shapri out of the way, so I can plop a few slices onto my plate. I don’t care how early in the afternoon it is. I’m hungry. I shove a slice in my mouth and the grease drips down my chin.
Shapri crunches on a slice of the pepperoni and cheese.
“Are you eating the crust first?” I ask; the tip of the pizza goes in mushily, not crunchily.
“Of course,” Shapri says. Her voice is muffled since her mouth is completely full of food.
“That’s how you’re supposed to eat it, save the best for last.”
“Weird,” I say, taking another huge chomp of my pizza from the intended end.
“Do they have pizza where you come from, Simmi?” Mom asks.
“Yes,” Simmi answers curtly.
“Well, why aren’t you eating anything? Don’t you like pizza?”
“Yes, I like pizza very much. But…”
I pause before tearing into my second slice. “What’s wrong?” I ask.
“Well, I don’t eat meat,” Simmi explains. “But it’s okay. I’ll just pick it off.”
“Oh no,” Mom groans. “I didn’t realize. I’m so sorry.” She comes over to the table and places a roll of paper towels in front of Simmi with a thud. “You can use this to blot at the pizza.” Mom comes up behind me and places her hands on my chair. “Okay, I’ll let you kids enjoy your party. I’m headed out to the garden to water the tomatoes. When Dad comes home, send him outside, okay?” Mom kisses me on the head and takes her leave.
Shapri and I continue eating our pizza like we’ve been starving our entire lives. Simmi blots politely at her slice, picking off the toppings and tearing it into small bits and placing them in her mouth. A few minutes later, Dad arrives through the front door.
“Hi, Alex,” he calls from the next room, while removing his shoes. “Hi, Alex’s friends.” He hangs up his jacket and makes his way over to the kitchen. “I hope you saved me a slice or two.” He stops walking all of a sudden, freezing as if he were a deer about to get hit by a semi-truck on a lonely country road.
“Hi, Dad,” I say. “Mom says she wants you to meet her outside in the garden.”
Dad clears his throat and walks back toward the front door. None of us say anything until he’s gone outside.
“That was weird,” Shapri says. “I wonder what his problem is.”
“Dad’s kind of been a bit unusual lately,” I say, hoping we can talk about something else.
“The way he was staring at me. Like I’m a ghost or something.”
From outside, Dad’s voice floats in and hangs above our conversation. I can’t quite make out the words, but I can tell he’s angry. Really angry.
“Um, I better be going,” Shapri says, shoving one last bite into her mouth and then brushing her hands off against each other, making a loud clapping noise.
“You don’t need to leave because of him,” I say. I guess Dad still ranks number one on the people
I don’t like list. I don’t want him acting like this around my guests, whether I invited them of my own accord or not.
“No, I have to go,” Shapri says with tons of conviction, while throwing her paper plate away under the sink and then heading toward the door. “My dad’s here to walk me home. He told me he’d pick me up, and now here he is.” Shapri throws her coat on over her shoulders and shoves her feet into her slip-on shoes. “I’ll see you both at school tomorrow. Happy birthday again, Alex. Bye.” Only about thirty seconds pass between the time Shapri decides to leave and the time she has disappeared through the front door.
Simmi takes a sip of pop, slurping loudly. “I wonder what that was all about,” she says. “No idea,” I whisper in case Dad is listening. “I wonder why her father didn’t even come in to say ‘hello.’ Strange.”
“Forget coming in. He didn’t come at all. No one was outside. Shapri just walked off by herself.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR. Emlyn Chand has always loved to hear and tell stories, having emerged from the womb with a fountain pen grasped firmly in her left hand (true story). When she’s not writing, she runs a large book club in Ann Arbor and is the president of author PR firm, Novel Publicity. Emlyn loves to connect with readers and is available throughout the social media interweb.