Call Me Firefly: A Sonny and Breanne Mystery #2

By James Paavola

Call Me Firefly is the second book in the middle grade, paranormal, Sonny and Breanne Mystery series. 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. New spirit friends get creative as they protect Breanne from a group of girl bullies, and help solve a sixty-year old mystery involving a beloved lion named Elvis.

• Language: English
• Publisher: James Paavola
• Release date: Jun 10, 2019
• ISBN: 9780996457170

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

Also by James Paavola:

Jack and the Beanpole:

A Sonny and Breanne Mystery (Book 1)

The Murder In Memphis series:

The Unspeakable

(A 2018 Killer Nashville Silver Falchion Finalist)

Cast the First Stone

Blood Money

Which One Dies Today?

They Gotta Sleep Sometime

The Chartreuse Envelope

Short stories in the Malice in Memphis anthologies

edited by Carolyn McSparren:

A Cry from the Ashes

In Mayhem in Memphis (2019)

Down in the Furnace Room:

A Sonny and Breanne Mystery

In Elmwood: Stories to Die For (2017)

The Adventures of Sonny Etherly:

Special Powers

In Ghost Stories (2016)

The Silver Star

In Bluff City Mysteries (2014)

Call Me Firefly

A Sonny and Breanne Mystery

(Book 2)

A Novel by

James C. Paavola

Copyright © 2019 by James C. Paavola

Published by J&M Book Publishers

Memphis, Tennessee

www.jamespaavola.com

All Rights Reserved. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

ISBN: 978-0-9964571-6-3

Printed in the United States of America

Acknowledgements

I want to thank my core team: my wife Marilyn for her support and proof reading, our daughter Shannon for her creativity in crafting the cover, and Carolyn McSparren for her detailed editing of the manuscript.

Thanks also to our critique group—Phyllis Appleby, Barbara Christopher, Carolyn McSparren, and Patricia Potter—for their learned reviews and encouragement. Thanks so much.

The Sonny and Breanne mystery novels were inspired by characters introduced in two short stories published by Dark Oak Press—The Adventures of Sonny Elliott: Special Powers (2016), and Down in the Furnace Room: A Sonny and Breanne Mystery (2017) .

DEDICATION

Joel David Paavola

9-16-71 to 6-4-18

In your short time with us, son,

you made an incredible difference in our lives

and in the lives of so many others.

There is a hole in our hearts.

We miss you so much.

One

No warning.

The stack of test papers silently EXPLODED!

Science teacher Glenda Garfield jerked back as sheets of paper attacked her. Others hung in the air, then floated down to the desk top or the floor.

Lawrence! she snapped.

No answer.

The temperature dropped in her classroom. She shivered and rubbed her arms.

"Lawrence? Is that you? … This one’s not funny."

Still, no answer.

She caught a whiff of smoke and quickly surveyed the room. No sign of fire.

She gripped the arms of her wooden chair. Despite the cold, a bead of sweat rolled down her nose and dropped off.

Ms Garfield moved her eyes cautiously—left…then right—but saw nothing unusual. She slowly turned her head. Her middle school students’ test papers were scattered all around her, but gave no hint of what had caused the chaos.

Within minutes, the temperature returned to normal. Ms Garfield sniffed. No smoky odor. She scooted her chair back, stood and did a full three-sixty, checking ceiling to floor. Nothing out of place except the test papers. Yet, there was something…she could feel it. Someone—or something—was watching her.

Leaning forward under the weight of full backpacks, a short African-American boy and a tall, skinny white girl walked side by side down the empty school hallway.

Sonny Etherly pushed his black-rimmed glasses up with his forefinger. What’d you think about the science test? he asked.

Not bad, Breanne Thurman said, freeing her long straight hair from under her backpack. I was hoping for some extra credit questions.

We don’t need any extra credit.

Yeah, but, just in case.

In case what?

I might get sick or something and miss a test.

Sonny looked up at her and nodded. That’s true. Hadn’t thought of that. Be good to have some extra credit points…just in case.

Breanne stopped. Her long hair swished when she turned her head to look down the intersecting hallway. Brown strands caught on her bright green glasses.

What? he said, straining to see.

Don’t you hear that? she asked.

Sonny shook his head.

Sounds like someone’s crying. A kid.

If you hear it and I don’t, it’s probably just another ghost.

Breanne started down the hallway dedicated to the primary grade classrooms.

We’re not supposed to go down there, Sonny said. It’s outta bounds for middle schoolers.

She motioned for him to follow. Nobody’s here, she said. Teachers are outside watching their kids leave.

Sonny kept looking over his shoulder as he shuffled behind her—farther and farther behind her.

Breanne paused at the doorway of the fourth classroom on the right. According to the neatly blue-lettered placard, a first grade classroom. She listened again, took one step inside and scanned the room. Then she poked her head out to find Sonny two classrooms behind her. The crying stopped, she said.

Sonny stood still. You sure you heard something?

Of course I’m sure, she said reaching out her hand. "Come on in here and take my hand so I can see the spirit. I mean, so we can see it."

No way. Teachers will be back any second. I’m not gonna get caught holding your hand in a first grade classroom, or anywhere else.

Don’t be such a fraidy cat. You know I can’t see ghosts without you. We’ll just take a quick look around the room. We’ll be done before you know it.

Get outta there! Sonny hissed. Somebody’s coming. He looked over his shoulder as two female teachers rounded the corner—one black, the other white. Oh, moon rocks, he muttered.

Breanne walked back to Sonny, as the teachers approached.

The white teacher spoke loudly, My, my. What do we have here?

A little tall for first graders, said the black teacher, smiling.

Look more like middle schoolers.

This isn’t their hallway. Think they’re lost?

The white teacher shrugged. I don’t know. Let’s ask them.

Breanne grabbed her straps and bounced the backpack to a more comfortable position. Thought we heard a kid crying, she said. We came down to check it out, but we didn’t see anyone.

The teachers exchanged a look. Thank you for doing that, the black teacher said. We’ll keep our ears open.

Sonny and Breanne offered forced smiles and headed back to the main hallway. After turning the corner, Sonny blew out a breath. Quick thinking, Bree. Never thought the truth would get us out of there.

Well, it was mostly true, she said. But, I did say ‘we.’

They pushed the panic bars, and the heavy doors opened to bright sunshine, as the last school bus pulled out. A dozen or so kids waited for their parents to pick them up. Sonny and Breanne followed the sidewalk north.

She looked over at him. I’m positive I heard a kid crying.

It could’ve been one of those kids back there whose mother forgot to pick him up.

Breanne shook her head. No. It was definitely coming from the primary grades’ hallway.

What? Not only do you hear ghosts, but you have some kind of divining rod that tells you where the voices are coming from?

She exhaled loudly. "Can you explain how you were able to see a murder? In a thunder storm? One that happened thirty-five years ago?"

He shook his head.

Same goes for me, she said. "I can’t explain how I hear ghosts. But I do. And I can’t explain why, when we touch, our powers increase so you and I can both see and hear ghosts. I just know we can."

Sonny sighed. I guess this means you’re gonna want to go back to that classroom.

I need to know why the kid’s crying. Maybe there’s something I can do to help.

And I suppose you want me to come with you.

I can’t see the kid without you.

We’re not supposed to be in the primary grade hallway. We’ve already been caught once. No way we’d be able to talk ourselves out of getting caught again.

Sonny. Please.

Two

Breanne

The next day at school, I walked into second period algebra class to find Sonny already in his seat. All the other students were standing around talking and laughing. Not Sonny. He was in his own little world, bent over his tablet and scratching out words and numbers like he was in a timed achievement test. Or, as he called it, ‘head down and pencil high.’ Probably working on some big science problem.

I turned at my row and passed his desk. Sonny never looked up, but I read his mind, Hey, Bree. I answered him in my mind, Hi, Sonny.

We’ve gotten pretty good at reading each other’s minds, although Sonny is still much better at it than me. We get teased a lot, so we try not to make a big thing outta being friends. That is, no bigger show than eating at the cafeteria nerd table and walking home together. I dropped my backpack and slid into my desk, one behind Sonny’s, the next row over.

The tardy bell rang.

Good morning, everyone, Ms Eller said, raising her voice over the noise. Let’s settle down, find your seats.

I glanced at Sonny. He hadn’t stopped writing. But that’s Sonny. He can do a bunch of stuff at the same time. I’m sure he’s listening to Ms Eller at the same time he’s working on…whatever it is he’s working on.

He stopped, looked up at the front corner of the room by the windows. I couldn’t see what he was looking at.

Breanne…Breanne…Ms Thurman?

I looked over to see all the students staring at me as Ms Eller walked down my row. Oh, no. I got caught not paying attention. Not again.

Ma’am? I said.

What planet are you on this morning, young lady? Ms Eller asked.

The third one from the sun? I said.

The students laughed. Ms Eller smiled. Well, come on back to Memphis, Tennessee. She returned to the front of the classroom.

I read Sonny’s mind. You okay? You’re not having one of those stand-up seizures are you?

Geez, I thought. I’ve told you fifty-gazillion times. I don’t have seizures. That was all a misunderstanding. I didn’t hear the teacher call me because I’d been talking to a ghost. She thought I wasn’t paying attention because I’d had a seizure. That’s why she took me to the nurse. But no seizure. I’m fine. Really.

Was that Ben’s ghost?

Yeah, Ben Cho. But I couldn’t tell her I was talking to a ghost. She’d have taken me to the school counselor.

So, what happened this time? You talking to a ghost?

No. I was just trying to see what you were looking at up in the corner.

Oh, that.

Sonny?

Not sure. … I sensed something. When I looked up I saw a mini flash. Just one. But I didn’t see anything else.

Maybe just the reflection off someone’s watch.

Maybe…

Sonny

Next period, Bree and I walked into advanced science class. As we passed Ms Garfield’s desk she motioned us over. I need to talk to you, she said softly. Can you come to my room after school?

I glanced at Bree. She was nodding. I nodded, too.

We went to our seats. What do you think this is about?

I don’t know, but it’s the first time she’s talked to us since we helped her and Mr. Cantrell say their goodbyes.

Yeah. That was so cool. You repeated everything Mr. Cantrell’s ghost said, just like he said it.

So…what now?

We’ll just have to wait to find out.

Not long after I dropped into my desk I had that same sense as last period, the sense that someone was approaching. And, again, when I looked up, there was a tiny flash at the front wall. What is that?

Breanne was tuned into my thoughts. What?

That little flash of light again.

Breanne and I have different homerooms, but the same lunch period. I can’t remember how many years I’ve been eating at the cafeteria’s nerd table. Heck, maybe the kids started calling it the nerd table because I was the only one who ever ate at that short table in the back. Then this school year Breanne joined me, even before I knew who she was. She just sat down at the table. No one had ever done that before. We had instantly doubled the number of nerds sitting there.

Grams packed my lunch today. I’d just taken a huge bite of my ham sandwich when Bree showed up with a cafeteria tray. She plopped down across from me. When I saw her corn dog nuggets and pinto beans, I felt pretty good about my sandwich.

Breanne picked up her fork and looked at me. What’s up with the flashy lights?

I-O-O, I sing-songed with my mouth full.

She cut a chunk of her nugget, but did not lift it from the plate. For heaven sakes, I can’t understand you when you talk with your mouth full. Swallow your food and talk to me.

Bree can be kinda pushy sometimes. I just took my time chewing. She shoved the nugget in her mouth but kept her eyes on me. Eventually, I swallowed.

Well? she asked.

All I can say is that I saw the light flash twice—once in algebra and once in science. It was kinda weird though…before each flash I had the strange feeling someone was coming.

Someone?

I shrugged. Or something. Either way, this kind of feeling is new for me. Makes me think the flash wasn’t just the reflection off someone’s watch. I took another big bite before she could ask more questions.

Breanne kept picking at her food. Two odd things have happened. She held up her index finger. First is that crying kid. She opened up another finger. Second, your feeling that someone is coming, followed by a flash.

I swallowed. Could be the crying kid was actually outside the building, and…

And, Breanne interrupted, rolling her eyes, "the flash is really Tinker Bell, looking for Peter Pan."

I noisily drained my chocolate milk.

Come on, Sonny, she said. You know I can sense these things. Something is going on. They have to be connected.

It’s not safe to go back to the primary grades hallway. But since Ms Garfield knows we can see ghosts, maybe she’ll let us check out the flash when we go to her classroom after sixth period.

Breanne nodded.

The cafeteria began to empty. Gotta go, I said.

We headed for our lockers to get our afternoon books, then met in language arts. I confess that instead of paying attention to Ms Hill, I was hoping to see the flash again. It wasn’t long before I sensed someone approaching. I looked at the front wall just in time to see the flash. I caught myself smiling.

Scientifically, I had made two distinct observations—my feelings, and the flash. In the most basic of experiments, I had predicted a relationship between those observations. And, now I’ve confirmed that one event follows the other. That must be how a young Leonardo da Vinci did it. Fantastic! … Huh?

Somewhere in the back of my head I heard Breanne’s thoughts. Sonny, wake up! Ms Hill’s calling you.

"Mr. Etherly? … Mr. Etherly? …

I looked up to see Ms Hill staring at me. Ma’am? I said.

Well? Ms Hill asked. What’s the difference?

Breanne’s thoughts were coming through loud and clear. She wants to know the difference between farther and further.

Farther is for actual distance, I said. Like, I walked farther today than yesterday. And, further is for distance when it’s not physical. Like my mind wandered further away.

Ms Hill’s expression didn’t change a