Jack and the Beanpole: A Sonny and Breanne Mystery

By James Paavola

This is the first book in a paranormal mystery series for middle school students. Eighth graders Sonny and Breanne look nothing alike--a short black boy, a tall white girl. Their special friendship develops when they discover they both have psychic powers: they can read minds and ghosts communicate with them. Sonny's and Breanne's special gifts are even stronger when they work together. Follow them as their spirit friends help them solve mysteries.

• Language: English
• Publisher: James Paavola
• Release date: Apr 29, 2019
• ISBN: 9780996457156

James Paavola

Dr. James C. Paavola is a retired psychologist. His primary focus had been children, adolescents, families, and the educational system. Jim began writing mysteries at age sixty-four. He lives with his wife in Memphis, Tennessee.

Book preview

Chapter One

Breanne Thurman

Breanne:

I must’a been six the first time I told my mother I talked to a ghost. Not that I called it that, of course. I didn’t really understand what that word meant back then.

I was upstairs in my bedroom going back and forth in my rocking chair, and wiggling my loose front tooth with my tongue. I really liked that chair. And I liked to feel my long hair brush against my cheeks.

Anyway, that’s when I heard a girl talking to me. I looked up but didn’t see anyone. I wasn’t afraid because the girl sounded nice, so I answered her. She told me her name was Nora. Said she was ten-years old. Said she used to live in my house and that my bedroom used to be hers. So I asked her why she left.

Because I died, Nora said.

That’s when Momma came in. I heard you, Sweetie. Who are you talking to?

Nora.

Nora? Momma looked around the room. I don’t see anyone.

I can’t see her, I said. I just hear her.

What did she say?

She said this was her bedroom.

"Her bedroom?" Momma said, smiling.

I nodded.

Where is she now? Momma asked.

She’s dead.

Momma’s smile melted away and her eyes got real big. She made the sign of the cross and left the room, calling for Daddy. "Breanne’s doing it again, talking to the air. But this time she said she was talking to a dead person."

I remember being kinda nervous. Not about Nora, but about Momma. Why was she so upset? Did I do something wrong?

I heard Daddy’s heavy steps on the stairway. I stopped rocking, but kept wiggling my tooth, this time with my fingers.

Momma whispered loudly. This is the way it started with Maggie Jo.

Your friend in high school? Daddy asked. The one they took away?

I’d never heard of Maggie Jo, and I didn’t understand. Took her away to where?

Momma stood in the doorway, a hand covering her mouth. Daddy came in and sat on my bed. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. Bree, honey, Momma says you’ve been talking to a girl, here in your bedroom. Someone named Nora?

I nodded.

But we can’t see Nora?

I shook my head. Nobody can, I said, and started rocking again. She’s dead.

See, Momma said. I told you. And it’s not just another imaginary friend. She thinks she’s talking to a ghost.

Daddy looked back at Momma, I very much doubt she knows the difference, honey. Lots of kids have imaginary friends, even at her age. He turned to me. Is this the first time you’ve talked to Nora?

Uh-huh.

Does Nora have a last name?

I don’t know. She only told me Nora.

Did Nora say anything mean to you? Daddy asked.

No. She was real nice. I twisted one last time, really hard, and my tooth came out. I held it up. "Look! My tooth. Now the Tooth Fairy will come."

I heard Momma whisper, Oh, great. Someone else for her to talk to that we can’t see.

Daddy smiled. Remember to put your tooth under your pillow tonight. And, Bree?

I know, I said. I shouldn’t talk to Nora anymore. And if she talks to me, I need to tell you.

Daddy sat up straight. Yes, he said. That’s exactly what I was going to say. But how did you…?

I heard you. Inside my head.

Chapter Two

Breanne:

The next day, Momma and Daddy waited in the hallway outside my first grade classroom. My teacher, Ms Allen, was nice. She kinda looked like my Nana, but without the grey hair. When the bell rang, Ms Allen stood at the door and said good-bye to each student. I walked out and found Momma and Daddy.

After all the students left, Ms Allen waved us into the classroom. She gave me a third-grade chapter book and told me to go to my regular seat. I kept my head down, hiding behind my long hair, and pretended to read. But I listened hard to what they were saying and kept sneaking looks as they stood in front of Ms Allen’s desk.

Ms Allen smiled. I got your message, Mrs. Thurman. You wanted to talk about Breanne?

Yes, Momma said. Thank you for seeing us.

I really enjoy having Breanne in my class, Ms Allen said. She’s a very intelligent child, always polite and obedient. My best reader. She lowered her voice. She’s kind of shy and keeps to herself. Sometimes, the other students tease her. Teasing is against my classroom rules, but I can’t stop all of it.

Momma glanced over at me. I quickly turned the page. When I snuck a look, Momma was talking to Ms Allen. We were wondering if you noticed anything…well, different about her.

What do you mean, different? Ms Allen asked.

Momma leaned forward and spoke softly, I mean, does she ever…talk to herself?

Ms Allen didn’t answer right away. I have been teaching first graders for almost thirty years. This is my absolute favorite age. I love to watch their little personalities blossom. She paused. "Every child matures at their own rate. Some children do mumble to themselves. It’s almost as if they are repeating what their parents have told them. You know—Sit up straight. Take your time. Don’t make mistakes. I can do this."

I mean, does she talk when no other student is around? Momma asked.

Ms Allen brushed a strand of hair from her face. Every so often I see students at the start of the school year who are still talking to an imaginary friend. But that doesn’t last long when they find themselves in a room full of other children and begin making real friends.

See, Daddy said to Momma, It’s normal for even a six-year old to still have an imaginary friend.

Ms Allen looked at me bent over my book, my straight hair hanging down like a curtain, and my bright green glasses barely showing. She turned to my parents. I’ve never had a student so attentive. Sometimes I could swear she reads my mind.

Momma and Daddy looked at one another, then back to Ms Allen. That’s happened to us, too, Momma said. That’s not normal for a six-year old, is it?

Certainly unusual. I would never call Breanne abnormal, Ms Allen said.

They just stood quiet for a long time.

What about her talking out loud? Momma asked. Like she’s talking to the air?

Ms Allen nodded. Yes. I’ve seen her do that a few times. Whenever I’ve asked her who she was talking to, Breanne has happily given me a name. Usually, it has been a first name. I assumed she had a number of imaginary friends. She’s always so relaxed about it. Like it was…

Momma finished her sentence. As normal as apple pie?

Yes, Ms Allen said. Exactly like that.

But, Daddy said, there’s really nothing unusual about Breanne having imaginary friends. Right?

Ms Allen didn’t answer right away. Not long ago, when I asked her who she was talking to, she said Billy Jamison. I almost fell over. … I will never forget Billy. He was a student in the first class I ever taught.

That would put him in his thirties, Daddy said. How would she have met him?

Oh, she never met Billy, Ms Allen said. Six-year-old Billy died on the playground when he fell off the jungle gym.

Even from my desk I could see the goose bumps on Momma’s arms. Her face got all pale and her body shivered. She grabbed Daddy’s arm. That…that would mean Breanne was talking to a…a ghost, she said.

Ms Allen pulled her chair from the reading center and motioned for Daddy to bring Momma over. He helped her into the chair. He looked at Ms Allen. Did Breanne tell you what Billy said?

Ms Allen’s eyes filled with tears. Billy asked her to tell me that he never got the chance to say what a nice teacher I was, and how much he loved me.

• • •

On the way home, I sat in my booster car seat behind Momma. I was too small to see her. I only heard her sniffling.

Daddy glanced at Momma. I’m sure this is nothing like your friend.

Momma blew her nose. You don’t understand, she said. Maggie Jo and I were best friends in high school. One day I heard her talking to the air. When I asked who she was talking to, she told me she heard voices. Said the voices came from inside her head.

Daddy looked at her. Inside her head?

It wasn’t long before other kids heard her answering those voices. They called her names. Our teacher got involved. Maggie Jo had to see a psychiatrist. He gave her medicine. She was never the same after that. The next thing I knew, there was a FOR SALE sign in her front yard. I watched her family drive away. Maggie Jo just looked straight ahead. Didn’t even wave goodbye.

That’s very sad, Daddy said. Sounds like she had real problems. But I’m sure it has nothing to do with Bree.

Momma blew her nose again.

Are you crying, Momma? I asked.

Momma is worried, Daddy said. We both are. You have to stop talking to…those people you talk to.

The ones I can’t see?

Yes.

Why?

Because other people might make fun of you, or call you bad names.

Why?

Because they don’t understand, Sweetie.

Chapter Three

Breanne:

When we got home, I rocked in my chair holding my baby doll. My hair swished forward and back, brushing my cheeks.

Hi, little girl, Nora said.

I stopped rocking. Momma said I’m not supposed to talk to you, I whispered.

Why? I’m not hurting anybody, she said.

She says people will make fun of me.

Only if you tell them you talked to me. So, don’t tell them.

But Momma said to tell. So I told her that Nora talked to me again. Big mistake. She told me I could never talk to Nora again. Ever! She said it wasn’t something normal children did, and I needed to be normal. Of course, Nora kept talking to me. But, I didn’t tell Momma. I didn’t tell Daddy either.

I never saw Ms Allen again. Momma homeschooled me for seven years. At first it was just Momma and me. She took me to the library and to museums. We rode our bikes in the neighborhood. Then little by little she began signing me up for stuff to do on my own—piano lessons, soccer, T-Ball. I did okay in piano, but I was terrible at sports. Kids called me really bad names. No one wanted to be my friend. I felt like maybe I wasn’t normal, that I was like Maggie Jo.

Even though I’m now three years older than Nora got to be before she died, she’s still my only friend. There are two old ghosts who live down the street in Nana and Grandpa’s house. They talk to me when I visit. They’re both nice. But I miss having a real friend. One my age. One who’s alive.

To make things worse, I started to grow—really tall and really skinny. I don’t even recognize the person I see in the mirror. Yuk. No one will want to be my friend now.

Only adults attended my thirteenth birthday party. Momma invited her sister, Aunt Tess. If anyone’s not normal, it’s Aunt Tess.

Goodness, child, Tess said to me. Except for those green glasses you’ve been wearing forever, I wouldn’t have recognized you. Looks like you’ve grown a foot since I saw you last. You’re all arms and legs. You must be taller than all the boys your age. And I see you have braces, too.

I was so embarrassed. I wanted to leave the room. I stepped back, dropped my head, and hid my face behind my hair which, like my arms and legs, was also a bunch longer now.

How do you keep her in clothes? Tess asked Momma.

Momma shook her head. Breanne’s been on a wild growth spurt, she said, pointing. Look at all the pencil marks on the wall. That last one is just a smidge below six feet. It seems like I’m buying longer dresses every other week, and new shoes every month.

Well, I think she’s becoming a beautiful young lady, Nana said, peeking through my hair.

I looked up, took Nana’s hand, and gave her a little smile.

Just then, Daddy walked in with a birthday cake and thirteen burning candles. Everyone began singing Happy Birthday.

Make a wish, Grandpa said.

I wished for a friend.

Blow out the candles in one breath, Daddy said.

I held my hair back with both hands, leaned forward and blew out all the candles. The family applauded.

Open your gifts, Bree, Momma said, pointing to a stack of wrapped packages on the table. I’ll cut the cake. Someone get the ice cream.

I opened the gift from Aunt Tess first—three pairs of socks that were a gross tan color and way too small. Nana and Grandpa gave me the complete set of Harry Potter books, in hardback. My old copies were pretty worn out. And Momma and Daddy got me a notebook computer.

After everyone finished our cake and ice cream, Aunt Tess said her goodbyes and left. The other adults sat down with their coffee. I took my new notebook up to my room, but I snuck back and listened from the hallway.

Breanne is very smart, Momma said. You should see her fingers fly across the keyboard of our old computer. But it’s seen better days, and is really slow. Now with this notebook computer, she’ll be able to do a lot more things.

That’s wonderful, dear, Nana said. But she needs more than a computer. She needs to be with other kids. She needs to go back to school.

Well, Daddy said, at the very least, she needs to get out of the house. He turned to Grandpa, Breanne really thinks highly of you, Pop. She’s always said how cool you look in your Memphis Police uniform. I know she’d love to spend more time with you.

What a nice thing to say, Grandpa said. Speaking of the uniform, I only have twenty-nine days until I retire from the force. I’ll have lots of time to spend with Bree then.

Chapter Four

Breanne:

The whole family went to Grandpa’s big retirement party. Everyone at the police station knew him as Lieutenant Junior Thurman. He got a plaque and a dark blue baseball cap with RETIRED AND LOVING IT written in big gold letters on the front, and MEMPHIS POLICE DEPARTMENT written in small gold letters on the back. Someone asked what he was going to do, now that he was retired. He looked at me and smiled. I just want to be Breanne’s Grandpa. Everyone clapped.

A few days later, Grandpa came to pick me up for our first field trip. He wore his new baseball cap. We drove to the Big River Crossing in downtown Memphis. That’s where people can walk across the Mississippi River on the old Harahan Bridge. It’s really high, and looking down at the moving river made me a little dizzy. But Grandpa told me to look far out—at the newer bridge further up the river, at the shoreline, even at the horizon. The dizziness went away.

We walked about a mile over to the Arkansas shore. I never knew the Mississippi River was so wide. Walking back, it was so cool to see the tall buildings of downtown Memphis. We stopped in the middle of the bridge and watched two barges. They look so much bigger when you’re standing right over them. The one coming down the river to New Orleans moved fast. But the one going against the current to Saint Louis went really slow.

I really liked my first field trip with Grandpa. On the drive home, we stopped at a Baskin-Robbins. I looked at all the ice creams, and the man