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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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(About Dan Home) (Last) (Next) Can You Prove It?"They're school ties. See—the official soccer team tie. I thought you might like to have them to adorn your closet." Ed laughed while Mike held his up to his chest. "Hmm," said Ed. "I'll have to find an excuse to wear this." Ed insisted Dan say a blessing on the food. He folded his arms just like he always had in primary and pronounced a relatively perfunctory blessing. He did add a thanks for the music they'd just enjoyed. As he talked about the music, his arms had automatically unfolded and he clasped his hands instead. He remembered that the bishop never seemed to fold his arms, primary-style, when he prayed. Was that the secret? Dan thought the meal was weird. Instead of the genial pandemonium that prevailed at Peter's house, or the comfortable ease at Bishop Parker's, this meal was stiff and formal. The food was different from his usual fare. Mike announced it was vegetarian and named off spices that were new to Dan's ears as well as his palate. Dan picked at his food and tried to eat what he could, all the while saying it was quite delicious. Mike kidded him about needing to eat more health food if he was going to be prepared for the upcoming soccer season. In fact, Mike did most of the talking, wanting to know all about Dan's injury and the treatment that followed. He seemed quite concerned the knee was not healing properly and said he knew several specialists who could give second opinions. As Mike was in the kitchen preparing dessert, which Dan feared would be equally weird, he leaned over to his dad to speak quietly. "Dad, I don't mean to be rude or to be doubting or anything..." "Yes, Dan?" "Can you prove you're my father?" Ed was startled. "You mean a paternity test? I guess we could look into it. Would that make you feel better about me?" "Yes, it would." Just then, Mike came back with small dishes. A flame danced in each. Dan was horrified. Mike picked up a paper fan and waved the flames out. He then plopped some berries on top of each dish and set one in front of Dan. "Crème brûlée," he announced, as though expecting applause. Dan had no clue. "Try it," said Mike, sitting down. Obediently, Dan picked up the small spoon Mike had placed beside the dish. There was a hard crust that tasted like caramelized sugar. Inside was a delicious cream. Dan was a convert. Crème brûlée, whatever it was, was good. "Dan," said Mike, seriously. "Mpfft," said Dan, his mouth full of berries. "Don't you have a talent show in May at Park?" "I think so. Park’s Pretentious Performances—Triple P." "It's a big deal, if I remember correctly." "I guess so. It's hard to get in." "I want you to try out. You can use the song you just did or write a new one." "I'll never get in with my guitar playing." "We can fix that. You don't have to be as fancy, but we can spiffy things up a bit." "But, well, I don't know. I have so many other things I need to do." "No, Dan, I don't buy that argument. I want you to promise to try out, ok?" "Well, I guess it won't hurt." "Good, then. Let me think about how to approach the guitar and I'll e-mail you and then we can get together, ok?" "Uh, ok." What have I committed to? Is this a trick to get me to move in? "Our office is right downtown, so maybe that would be a better place to get together if it's inconvenient for you to come here," said Mike. Dan was much relieved. "That would be ok," he said. After dinner, Dan excused himself. He'd really enjoyed the music, not to mention the crème brûlée, but it was time to leave. He thought it odd that neither Mike nor Ed offered him any Christmas present, nor had either of them wished him a Merry Christmas. Perhaps they've decided not to celebrate? He opted not to ask. * * * Buried in the bottom of his guitar case were his old music scribblings, just as he’d suspected. He confirmed the lyrics to the song. He tuned the guitar, which took quite a while as the strings were old, and tried the song again. It didn't sound nearly as good as it did when Mike played, but he felt a strange excitement. This is cool, he thought. He put down the guitar and called Peter. He had news to share. |
© David Casler, 2006, all rights reserved. Comments? Contact Page.