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)
Ernesto Morales Comes to Call
"I'm Ernesto Morales. May I come in?" The accent was heavily Hispanic.
Ernesto was wiry and athletic, no bigger than Dan. His longish black hair was combed back so his ears showed. His features were harsh. He looked wilted, like he'd walked too far. He wore a green Anderson High School jersey with the number 10 emblazoned across the front in white, the word "soccer" just above.
Dan moved the wheelchair back a few inches.
The dream! This is the guy in the dream! He was riding the bird, thought Dan.
"May I sit down?" asked Ernesto.
The details of the dream flooded back. An enormous stadium. A huge bird with someone on its back. Everyone scattered. Except Dan.
Ernesto sank gratefully into the chair.
"Going home today?" he asked.
"Yeah. Mom's doing the paperwork," replied Dan. The feathers were the same color as Ernesto’s jersey.
"I’ve been wanting to meet you." Ernesto smiled wanly. "At least where we could talk."
Now I remember! The bird grabbed me. By the knee—I felt it break. Ernesto was riding it and laughing his stupid head off. The bird took me so high my ears popped.
"I'm sorry, I don't remember much from the accident," Dan said flatly. But I remember the bird. It dropped me. I hit the ground at a hundred miles per hour. Flames underneath. I was in hell.
"I do," Ernesto said. "A good game. Then you were down; Jose was wrapped between your legs. I could not stop." Ernesto’s English was curiously strained.
The bird was ugly. Like a condor, maybe? It’s tongue—ugh—dried and filthy and pointed. It licked me while I hung there by my knee. It felt like rubbing my face in gravel.
Dan shivered. The fire in his knee started again. Ernesto pulled up his jersey to show his massive abs. Dan felt puny by comparison. Ernesto pointed to four small bandages in turn.
"This is where your bone went into my stomach. The surgeon used this one to pump in air. She used this one for the scope device. She used this one to pump water in to wash everything out. She took the bone fragment out through the same hole it went in. Interesting, don't you think? I cannot play for a month." He looked up at Dan and smiled as he pulled his jersey down and smoothed it gently with his right hand. "At least that is what the surgeon says. I will play when I want to."
Dan said nothing. He looked so flamboyant on the bird. Will he vanish if I touch him?
"Are you from England?" asked Ernesto. You sound like it."
"Yes, from Manchester," said Dan. "I came to the States when I was 10."
"You play well."
"Thank you," mustered Dan. Where’s he taking this?
"I am from Colombia," continued Ernesto in his curiously stilted English. He laughed. "I think few Anglos play with fire."
"Your team has a reputation for fire. People get hurt," countered Dan.
"Maybe. We win because we play hard. You played hard too. Your goal made us lose. After you and I were taken from the playing field, your team finally had fire. We did not score—unusual for us. My teammates tell me your goalie had exceptional fire."
"Peter is a close friend," said Dan.
"But discussing our teams is not why I am here. I have two things for you."
Dan said nothing.
Ernesto pulled a small bottle from his pocket. Floating inside was a pink bone fragment about an inch long and maybe a half-inch wide in the middle. Dan’s curiosity gave way to anger.
Ernesto enjoyed Dan's discomfort. "From inside of you to inside of me and now back to you. You may keep it as a souvenir. I have plenty of bones and don't need yours."
This is not a bird. He gave up thinking of the dream and looked down at his leg and then at the bottle Ernesto had given him. He held it up against the light. He tore his gaze from the bottle and looked at Ernesto grimly.
Ernesto looked back as though Dan were his little brother who was mad because he'd been teased too much.
"I think you don't care much for me," said Dan.
Ernesto seemed genuinely surprised. "On the contrary, we are soccer brothers. And now we are blood brothers," he said sheepishly. "I think you blame me for your injury."
"The thought crossed my mind."
"Now," continued Ernesto. "I have a second thing to discuss with you, soccer brother."
But before Ernesto could elaborate, Dan’s mom was in the room with a sheaf of papers. Ernesto rose, almost reflexively, and spoke with polite ease.
"Hello, ma'am. You must be Dan's mother. Your son is a good soccer player."
"Who are you?"
"Oh, I am a friend of his, a fellow soccer player," said Ernesto as he strolled out. "I was just bringing something he left behind. It is nice to meet you."