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.
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
(About Dan Home) (Last) (Next)
Phillip's First Meet
"Hey, you don't wobble anymore. I rather liked the wobbling. It seemed so appropriate. You know, the real you."
"Peter, if you want I can pretend to wobble. How's this?" Dan put his arms out and did a sort of hula as they walked across the grass toward the school track. It was warm for early March. The sun shone through partly cloudy skies. The grass was already turning green, though the trees would not get their leaves back until mid-May.
"Don't make me have to carry you home, young man!"
Dan grinned. His knee was indeed improving. He still wore the brace, but it didn't hurt much now. He could even swivel on his bad leg without a twinge. But when he tried walking without the brace his knee would soon start to ache. Dr. Jones told him that would be the case for a long time.
"Hey, I'm getting a sports brace. Did I tell you?"
"What, so we can make sport of it?"
"No. Seriously! So I can get in shape for soccer. It comes in a couple weeks."
Dan and Peter were part of a ragged after- school throng working their way from the main campus to the farthest corner of the athletic fields. Today was the first track meet of the season and Phillip would be competing for the first time. Dan had no idea who the opposition was, nor had he, in fact, ever been to a track meet. They saw where the spectators were gathering and headed in that direction. Peter, Dan and the other students worked their way down a grassy slope, then across a baseball field, and finally onto a field with an oval track. Athletes from both schools—the opposition turned out to be Anderson High—were mingling with other students, coaches and parents, creating an atmosphere of total chaos. A lawn chair city was forming along the south side of the track. Athletic bags were strewn everywhere. Little clusters of athletes were warming up here and there. Dan recognized Phillip's father, also lost.
Dan greeted him jovially. They shook hands.
"This is Peter Fawkes. Have you met him before? He's a soccer player too."
Brother Maceda offered his handshake. Peter, not used to all the Mormon handshaking, took a second to react but then accepted.
"Pleased to meet you sir," said Peter. "We understand your son is going to blow away the competition!"
"Well, I don't know. I haven't even seen him. I have no idea what's going on. Phillip needs to get home and work on his paper. Where are they going to start the 3200-meter event?"
"To tell you the truth," replied Dan, "we don't know either. We were hoping you knew. Wait! I see Coach Johnson. Let me ask him."
Dan walked in Coach Johnson's direction. He wanted to stride, but striding was the next step beyond walking, past hobbling, and Dan wasn't there yet. He managed to catch Coach Johnson and get the answer. He returned to where he left Peter and Brother Maceda.
"It doesn't start for 20 minutes. They do the 100-yard dash first, and then a few other things. I guess we just sit here and wait."
Peter jumped suddenly. "Oh, Dan, save me! Hide me! Tell her I'm not here!" Peter ducked behind Dan and looked toward the mountains.
"Huh? What are you talking about?" asked a puzzled Dan.
"Tania. She's talking with someone over there. I'm not here, ok?"
"Is she still after you?"
"Like lint on a coat. Like dirt on a floor. Like a stain on carpet. I can't shake her. She doesn't listen. She won't give up."
Dan laughed. Brother Maceda looked puzzled.
"A former girlfriend," Dan explained. He turned to Peter. "So what do you want me to do? Run a blockade?"
"Yes, my kind sir. Anything! If she comes this way, engage her in conversation whilst I run for the hills. Can you cover for me, faithful old buddy?"
Dan laughed, greatly enjoying Peter's discomfort. Peter, however, looked genuinely frightened, so he relented.
"Ok, if Tyrannical Tanya comes this way, I'll move to intercept. Are you satisfied?"
"Thank you, my blessed protector. I shall be forever in your debt."
"Good. Usually you have me in yours. I think they're getting started."
The three sat on the grass, not entirely comfortably since it was still wet from a rain shower that afternoon. At first Dan sat cross-legged like the others, but soon he straightened out his left leg. Someone with a bullhorn was announcing something indecipherable and people started to clear off the track. Whistles blew and more indecipherable bullhorning blared across the field. With the sharp crack of the starter's gun, the cheering and noise began. Six male athletes, young and lean, three Park and three Anderson, ran past as though the devil himself chased them. Almost before it began, more cheering announced the end of the race. One of the athletes, it looked like a Parkie from where the trio sat, raised his fists in victory. The others slumped from the exertion. The man with the bullhorn, who seemed well practiced in incomprehensibility, shouted some more.
This scene repeated itself several times. Sometimes boys. Sometimes girls. The events got longer and longer until finally it was time to start the 3200-meter group. For the first time, Dan saw Phillip. He was on the opposite side of the field with the other Park runners. He was keeping his back to the spectators. The Park group and the Anderson group worked their way to their starting positions on the track. They would run eight laps on the quarter mile track.
The gun sounded. Phillip hesitated and then became a gazelle. He seemed intent on avoiding eye contact with the spectators, but as he went past Peter yelled out, "Hey, Phillip, show ‘em what real running's all about!" Dan saw Phillip's face turn red. Dan contented himself with a simple "Go, Phillip!" Phillip’s father simply stood. There were twelve runners in all, six from each school. Somehow the Anderson group looked taller and stronger. I hope Phillip knows how to lose, thought Dan.
Peter suddenly hit Dan hard on the shoulder and yelled in his ear. "You're on!" He walked away as rapidly as he could without looking like he was running.