Dave Casler
PO Box 98
Ridgway, Colorado 81432
Young Adult Novels by Dave Casler...
I've been told by publisher after publisher that there's no market for Young Adult novels. I think they're wrong! So I'm putting my novels on-line for you. Forget the publisher! Read to your heart's content--it's free! And, I'd like to hear from you, too! Contact Page.
You're reading About Dan. Be sure to check out About Phillip here.
Dan is a normal kid who loves his soccer. Except everything goes wrong. Everything.
About Series Home
About the About Series
Index to All Chapters
Here are all the chapters, disguised as asterisks. Hover your mouse over an asterisk to see the title of the chapter. Click on the asterisk to go straight to that chapter.
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(About Dan Home) (Last) (Next)
Mom is Ill. Why?
On a brown, late-October afternoon, Dan was thinking wistfully of skiing as the handicapped bus dropped him in front of his home. He swung his backpack on and pulled his crutches from under the seat. He waved at Linda, who seemed to enjoy the attention, and lowered himself to the asphalt. With a quick "Thanks, Dave," to the driver, he worked his way up the driveway.
With Dan disabled, the yard was a mess. The stiff wind blew the faded leaves in circles. His mother's car was gone, so he fished out his house key and let himself in.
The house was cold and silent. He turned up the thermostat. His mother had been on his case about turning up the thermostat too much. But sixty degrees? He turned it up to 70.
He surveyed the kitchen. Why does it look different? Old newspapers were scattered on the floor near the table, but that was nothing unusual. The calendar still hadn’t been turned to October. The wall near the light switch was so smudged it was dark. He looked at the open phone book. A name was circled, a doctor in Denver. It meant nothing to him. He poked aimlessly through the junk mail cluttering the counter.
The dirty dishes. She never leaves dirty dishes. He went to the freezer for a frozen burrito and turned to the cupboard for a plate. Empty. He opened the dishwasher. Nothing. He ran the water long enough to rinse a plate, popped the plastic covering the burrito, and put it in the microwave.
He looked back at the dirty dishes. This is not a good sign. Instinctively, he opened the dishwasher again. Awkwardly, stumbling on his crutches, he transferred everything from the sink to the dishwasher; it soon gurgled and swished. The sound made him more comfortable; the silence had been unnerving.
He grabbed the burrito and headed to his room. Balancing himself in a controlled fall, he sat at his desk. He propped his bad leg onto the other chair. He turned to the burrito as his computer gathered itself to life.
Setting his plate down, he knocked a pile of papers to the floor. He was leaning to pick them up when he saw his father's card, completely forgotten since he came home from the hospital. He picked it up and squinted to read the tiny e-mail address. He turned to the computer to log into his school e-mail account.
Dad, sorry I haven't written sooner. I just found your card. I'm doing better now. I'm on crutches, but the doc says it won't last too much longer. School’s bad. I missed too much and now it's hard to catch up. Mom’s tired all the time and very grumpy—she won’t tell me what’s going on. Soccer season is over. We missed playoffs. How are you? Dan
He paused for a moment, rereading his screen. Oh well, he thought, it can't hurt. He clicked "send" and logged off.
He pulled out his Math book and busied himself for the next hour, wondering why anyone cared about measuring the area of an ellipse. He was pulling out his American History book when he saw his mother pull into the driveway.
Dusk was gathering; it was getting windier. She pulled grocery sacks from the back seat. Her business clothes were thin against the raw wind. She looked tired, but nevertheless hurried up the walk. She fumbled with the front door for a moment before realizing it was open, and in a moment she was in the living room. Dan looked back at the hallway and saw the light in the living room come on.
"Dan, I'm home," she called. She didn’t wait for an answer.
He heard her putting things away in the kitchen. Then he heard her steps down the hall. She came into his room and sat down on his bed. She was perspiring. She leaned back on the bed and then lay down.
"Mom, are you ok?" ventured Dan.
"Oh, I'm all right. Headquarters wants me to expand the business. Impossible in today's market. No one is hiring, so how am I supposed to place all these clients? I’m on the phone all day. Everyone does nothing but complain."
Dan said nothing, but continued to stare at his mother.
"Are you up for some tea," she asked, sitting back up.
"No, I had a burrito. I'll get myself something later," he replied.
"I'll take a short nap and then get myself something. How is your schoolwork coming?"
"I'm still playing catch up. Math’s done already. I have a paper to write, though."
"I wish there was something I could do to help," she offered.
She doesn’t look like she really wants to help. "Can you proofread my paper for me?" asked Dan.
"Let me know when you're ready. Don't let me sleep more than an hour." She got up and headed for the door.
"Mom," began Dan. She turned around. "Are you ok?"
She smiled wanly. "I'm just extra tired. Something’s taking all my energy. I made a doctor's appointment today."
"Ok," said Dan. "Have a good nap."
He heard her door close. He reached for his CD player, put his earphones on and commenced slogging through the history assignment. An hour later, his mother wasn’t up. I’ll check e-mail and then wake her. To his delight, his father had already replied.
Son, good to hear from you. I'm glad you're getting along. Sorry to hear that you're falling behind in school because of the accident. Is there anything I can do to help? Please remember you can come see me any time, not just on the appointed days. And there will always be soccer! Hang in there, old buddy. Love, Dad.
Love? Mom never says that.
Dad, If I e-mailed a paper to you later tonight, would you proofread it for me and give me some suggestions? Dan
Not "love Dan." I hardly know him anymore.
He logged off and hoisted himself to his feet. He grabbed his crutches and crossed the hall to his mother's room. After several knocks he heard her groggy reply. He went back to his room, closed the door, and settled in to write his essay.