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)
Jerri's House
Dan stepped into the Smith's living room, shaking the snow from his shoes and shivering. If anything, the Smith's home was smaller than his. The living room was sparsely furnished with good deals from garage sales. A thin rug lay in the center of the room, covering old hardwood flooring that must have last seen varnish when the home was new. The couch was orange and a couple of buttons were missing, but at least no stuffing was coming out. Next to it was a 60's- era end table, blonde with spindly legs, holding an oversize aluminum lamp with a stained shade. The only thing missing was a lava lamp.
The place was clean, however, and a welcoming fire burned brightly, inviting a good spirit into the room on this chilly February afternoon. Dan shook Brother Smith's outstretched hand and yielded his jacket, which Brother Smith put into the empty coat closet.
"How are you today! It's chilly outside. Any problems driving?" asked Brother Smith.
"There's some ice at the end of the street up there that was fun, but I didn't hit anything.
"That's good! Please have a seat. Jerri will be out of the kitchen in just a minute."
Brother Smith sat down across from him in a large recliner, covered in what was euphemistically called "virgin vinyl" when it was new. Nothing in the room matched. They sat for several seconds in silence.
Brother Smith tried to make conversation. "How are you doing these days?"
"Pretty good."
Brother Smith tried again. "Are you still living at home? I heard the house sold."
"Yeah, I have another four weeks. Then I have to be out of there."
"What are you going to do."
"Don't know."
More silence.
This time Dan broke it. "What brought you here? Job transfer?"
"Well, that's the official reason. I found a new job to get us out of Salt Lake."
"Oh."
"Well, I'm sure Jerri's told you all about it."
"Just that things weren't good with her mother."
"That's an understatement. I got a job with the university here. We moved last November."
"Yeah, I remember you guys coming."
"So we're just getting used to...oh, hi, Jerri."
With difficulty, Brother Smith stood up as Jerri came into the room. He smiled at her. Dan followed Brother Smith’s lead by hauling himself off the couch. Jerri beamed at Dan who shyly tried to beam back. She has a beautiful smile, he thought. Her cinnamon hair fell on her shoulders. The light from the kitchen made her hair shimmer and highlighted her nose. It was sharply defined, as were her eyes. She had very even teeth which spoke of a more prosperous past. She was a couple inches shorter than Dan.
"Dan, you were certainly nicer in Sunday School today!" she said.
"I guess I have to be nice sometime."
They both laughed, leaving Brother Smith looking puzzled. He looked like he was about to comment, but didn’t.
"Sit down, both of you!" he said. "My old back won't take all this standing." He eased back into the recliner, leaving Jerri and Dan to the couch.
"Dan, how did your visit with Mike go?" said Jerri. "I meant to ask you at church, but forgot."
"Pretty good, actually. We put some words together and tweaked the music a bit. He showed me where to use some different chords. Tryouts for Triple-P are in a week."
"So what kind of words? I thought you were going to use the song you wrote last year."
"Well, no. Uh...I...uh...we put together some words about my mother. Sort of like a memorial kind of thing."
"Can I see?"