Freaky Frank

By Buffy Andrews

In many ways, Frank Fratello is a typical teen. He plays baseball, hangs out with his friends at the mall and gets in trouble at home. But there's something very different about this sixth-grader—he can read minds. And reading minds can cause problems. Like when Frank says what someone is thinking before they say it. Or answers a question before they ask it.

Despite being telepathic, Frank must deal with everyday middle school life, which includes battling a bully who hates him. Nasty Nate and his flunkies live to get others in trouble—especially Frank.

But Frank and his friends aren't giving up. There has to be some way to bring Nasty Nate down. They just have to find it.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Andrews Creative Concepts
• Release date: Jul 3, 2021
• ISBN: 9781735221694

Book preview

Freaky Frank © 2014, 2021 by Buffy Andrews

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, or events, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

Andrews Creative Concepts

York, Pennsylvania

Cover Art © 2014 by Charlotte Volnek

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Print ISBN:  978-1-7352216-9-4

eBook ISBN:  978-1-7374351-0-5

To Frank Nade, who always makes me smile

Acknowledgments

When Freaky Frank came into my life, it was like a big ball of sunshine smothered me in warmth.  He brightened my life in so many ways. He made me laugh and smile and feel like I was twelve again.  I absolutely loved hanging out with him. A telepathic  sixth-grader. How cool is that?

The first person I shared Freaky Frank with was my good friend and critique partner Beth Vrabel. She loved him as much as I did and encouraged me to share him with the world.

I can’t tell you how excited I am that you are finally meeting Freaky Frank. I hope you love him as much as I do and that he fills your life with giggles galore.

I would like to thank a few people who have traveled with me on this journey.

I thank God for His love and guidance and my husband, Tom, and sons, Zach and Micah, for their love and support.

And lastly, I thank you, the reader, for choosing my book and sharing a little of your time with one of the coolest kids I know.

Happy reading!

Contents

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 One

I have a secret. I know things. Lots of things. Like I know that my math teacher, Mr. Bugg, is going to pick his nose and wipe a booger on the back of his smiley face tie when he turns around to write on the whiteboard. I know Lacey, who sits next to me, is hoping Jon, who sits behind me, asks her to our sixth-grade school dance. And that Jon doesn’t notice the big bump on the tip of her nose when she accidentally-on-purpose plows into him while leaving class.

See what I mean? I know tons of things. Freaky Frank. That’s me, all right. I can get inside people’s brains and know what they’re thinking. It has its advantages. Like knowing Jen thinks I’m sort of, kind of cute. Or that my English teacher, Mrs. Plotkin, wishes I’d volunteer to read the part of Romeo in class because she thinks I’m theatrical. Brownie points there!

Knowing about boogers and bumps and potentially helpful things isn’t all bad. It’s the other stuff, the uncomfortable stuff, that creeps me out. Like what I heard my mom and dad thinking when I walked into the kitchen this morning.

Mr. Fratello. Quit slouching in your seat.

Mr. Bugg’s booming baritone voice made me jump. I sat up straighter.

Tell me, Mr. Fratello, what is direct variation and can you provide an example of this?

Mr. Bugg thinks I don’t know the answer. More specifically, he’s thinking: Stupid kid wasn’t paying attention as usual. He won’t know the answer. I’ll get him good this time.

You probably think I wasn’t paying attention or that I’m stupid.

Mr. Bugg tugged on his booger-smeared tie, tilted his shiny bald head, and scrunched his eyes so his bushy brows, which looked like giant caterpillars, slanted downward.

But I know the answer. Direct variation. That’s when one variable varies directly as the other. When one variable increases, the other increases by the same factor.

And an example, Mr. Fratello?

Someone’s salary and the number of hours he works. The more hours he works, the more money he makes.

Darn kid got it right, Mr. Bugg thought.

Very good, Mr. Fratello.

I could hear Mr. Bugg wondering if he could squeeze his butt cheeks tightly enough to hold in the fart he felt he was about to let fly. He was thinking he ate too many beans for lunch.

Or, another example, I blurted out. The more beans you eat, the more gas you have.

The entire algebra class exploded in laughter, and Mr. Bugg’s face turned tomato red. How is it that kid always seems to know what I’m thinking?

Mr. Bugg was saved by the bell. As I walked out the door to get to my next class, Lacey plowed into Jon. He didn’t notice the bump on her beak. All he could think about was her pink braces and how if he ever kissed her, he’d probably end up with a bloody lip.

Fart alert! Fart alert! someone in the back yelled. And it’s a plus-ten on the stink scale!

I zeroed in on Mr. Bugg’s brain: Couldn’t hold that in any longer. What a relief!

* * * *

Hey, bro, said Piz slapping me on the back when he saw me in the hallway. Ready for the big game tonight?

I was born ready.

Jack Pizziketti catches and I pitch for our baseball team. We were playing our rival later. Like us, they hadn’t lost a game. Lucky for my team, they had me. Of course, they didn’t know I could read a batter’s mind, know what pitch he expected, and throw something else. They didn’t know how when it was my turn to bat I could read the pitcher’s mind and know what type of ball he was going to throw. It’s why I have more homeruns than any 12-year-old in the league.

No one, not even my parents, knows I can read minds. And I plan to keep it that way. Sharing my secret would be social suicide. I’d lose all my friends. Who’d want to hang with a kid who knew what they were thinking every minute of every day? I sure wouldn’t. Besides, sometimes my ability comes in handy. Has all of my life. Like when I was little and wanted to know if I got what I wanted for Christmas. Just surf Mom’s brain to read her thoughts.

Legos? Check.

Bike? Check.

Car? Lord help me the day my Frankie wants a real car instead of these remote control ones.

Jen spotted us near the trophy case. Hey, guys. I hear there’s a big game tonight.

You coming? Piz asked.

But definitely not coming to see you, Jen thought. Sure. Why not. Nothing better to do. And I promised my little brother I’d take him. The game’s at the park, right?

I nodded.

Jen saw Lacey and hurried to catch up to her.

Do you think she likes me, bro? Piz asked. I’m getting a vibe from her that says she likes me. Think I should ask her to the dance?