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.


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Can't Dance on Crutches

          This is the captain speaking. The Titanic is sinking. She’s asked him to the festival just after the accident. Maybe she thought I'd be healed by now. It wouldn't be a fairy tale unless she could dance tonight.

          He rose to his feet, grabbing his crutches. "Why not?" he asked. He imitated Peter by holding out his hand. She took it, but her other hand was still over her mouth. They made their way to the dance floor.

          Peter and Chelsea were having a grand time; he was swinging with flair even beyond his normal style. He spun her like a top; she giggled.

          Lisa held onto Dan fiercely as though clinging to a dream. She yelled into his ear. "Do you have to use the crutches?"

          Dan yelled back. "No choice if I want to be vertical. At least we're on the dance floor."

          Lisa didn't know how to act. She swayed back and forth more, nearly knocking him over. She looked at Peter and Chelsea, who were cutting such a wide swath that others made way for them. Chelsea was laughing.

          Dan wished he didn't have the bum knee. He'd been known to dance, too.

          Peter stopped dancing and whispered something in Chelsea's ear. She smiled and looked over at Lisa and Dan. Dan saw her mouth "of course," and she danced herself off the dance floor and back to the table. Peter came over to them. He spoke to Lisa.

          "May I rescue you from this miserable cripple?" He winked at Dan.

          Lisa looked at Dan, not quite sure what to do. Dan thought he saw Lisa's lower lip trembling.

          He was grateful to leave Lisa to Peter; his knee was aching in earnest. Peter took her a few steps away and started the swing. Lisa took a deep breath, smiled at Peter, and began to dance.

          Dan sat down next to Chelsea. "You're quite the dancer," he said.

          "Oh, I love to dance," she gushed. "And Peter's such a gentleman!"

          Dan didn't reply, but watched Peter and Lisa. Lisa was not nearly the dancer Chelsea was. Chelsea had eyes only for Peter.

          When the music stopped, Peter sat beside Chelsea. She immediately grabbed his hand. Lisa was embarrassed. "Well," she said, out of breath. "That was fun." There was an awkward silence. She jumped up. "I'll go get some punch and cake for us. Be right back." She touched Dan’s hand and was off.

          The band played again; another saxophonist was soloing. This time it was a mournful, soul-wrenching twist on an old jazz tune that Dan remembered his mother liked. Peter and Chelsea were dancing as though they'd know each other forever. Dan could just see Lisa through the crowd. She was chatting with one of the parents, in no hurry to return.

          Dan continued his survey of the crowd. With the band playing again, the noise level was horrendous. All the tables were taken. Here and there he saw people he recognized. There were Chris and Jarrod from the soccer team. Both were in tuxes and in animated conversation with each other while their bored dates looked out on the dance floor. Dan saw Justin at a table nearly opposite, no one beside him. Cheryl was leaning on her crutches. At another table was Tania, Peter's old flame, draped all over a boy he didn't recognize; he looked uncomfortable.

          Lisa came back with four cups of punch and the same number of cake slices, all on a small paper tray. She handed Dan his punch. She licked some icing off her finger and wiped it with a napkin. She avoided his gaze for at least a minute. She finally took a deep breath, painted her smile back on, and turned to Dan.

          "Nice decorations, don't you think," she said.

          "Yeah, nice. Must've taken the committee a long time."

          "Yeah, that's what I heard."

          There was another long silence. The saxophonist finished his solo and many applauded. Dan joined in. "He's good, don't you think?" he said.

          "What? Who?" she asked.

          "The saxophone player. He's good."

          "Oh, I didn't notice," she said. "I guess so."

          Silence again.

          "How do you like Chelsea's gown," she asked.

          Dan knew enough not to answer this question directly. "Oh, it's nice," he said, "but I like yours better. I forgot to ask you at dinner. Did you make it?"

          She smiled a bit. "Do you really like it?"

          "Yes," said Dan, simply.

          "Chelsea's has a really low back. But it's velvet. It's hard to sit on velvet and have it look nice," she said.

          "I guess so," said Dan. How hard is it to sit on velvet? They lapsed back into silence.

          The band finished and Peter and Chelsea were back. Chelsea was laughing at something Peter said. Peter had that serious look he used when telling his wry jokes. Chelsea kissed his cheek. Dan had trouble making out what Peter said, but it sounded something like "my, my, young lady, do restrain yourself." Chelsea just laughed and held his arm tighter like she'd just won the lottery. Soon they were back on the dance floor.

          Dan turned to Lisa, who'd also been watching them. "Do you want to dance again?"

          Her expression said "the only thing worse would be to fall in a sewage treatment pond," but she forced a smile and said, "Of course." They made their way to the dance floor. Dan stood, his two crutches out like flying buttresses, his good leg forming a tripod, his bum leg in the air, with Lisa clinging to him. They swayed slightly to the music. Lisa looked over Dan's shoulder. They didn't speak. The other dancers gently swirled around them. Peter winked as he danced near them. Chelsea's head was buried in his chest. They were one.

          It was back to the table after the dance. They didn't say anything, nor did Lisa make a pretense of touching his hand. Dan was resentful. My leg’s in a cast. Whadda ya want me to do?

          Justin appeared out of nowhere. He pulled up a chair and addressed Dan, since Lisa was now talking with Chelsea.

          "How's your leg? I haven't seen you at church in a couple weeks. Something happen to you?"

          "Nope. But leg’s getting better."

          "I'll bet dancing doesn't help."

          "Not much, I'm afraid."

          "Uh, do you mind if I dance with Lisa?" asked Justin awkwardly.

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© David Casler, 2006, all rights reserved. Comments? Contact Page.