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 Phillip. Be sure to check out About Dan here.

Phillip is a computer nerd who suddenly discovers a liking for track. Everything would be fine except for his father.


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(About Phillip Home) (Last) (Next)

Rehashing the Argument

          "Oh, no!" objected Margo. "There’s no need. It’s a school day tomorrow anyway."

          "I’m his grandmother. I want to wish him a good night."

          Martin left. Margo didn’t pretend anymore; now that the two of them were alone she had tears on her cheeks. She sat and took Carmen’s hand.

          "Oh, Mother," she said, and sobbed silently into her mother’s fingers. She was interrupted by Martin’s return. A sullen Phillip trailed behind him.

          "What did you do to make your mother cry, Phillip?"

          "Nothing. I didn’t do anything," he said. He sat on the floor in front of the fireplace, his face as devoid of warmth as the empty hearth behind him. He folded his arms and stared at the floor. "Can I go now?" he asked defiantly.

          "Phillip and Dad got in this huge argument just as we were leaving the stadium," said Martin with the enthusiasm of a cub reporter fresh from journalism school.

          Carmen felt Margo squeeze her hand and saw her conceal a sob. Phillip stared at the floor.

          "Then Dad like major blew up," Martin reported. "Mom and I hid behind a pillar. It got so bad the security cops told them to quit or they’d arrest them both. It was amazing …" he said, his voice trailing off.

          "Phillip, sweetie, I’m surprised. You’re normally a very respectful young man…" began Carmen.

          Phillip jumped to his feet and shouted. "Maybe if he showed me some respect!" His face turned red and Carmen thought she could see the veins sticking out on his neck. Martin, startled, fell backwards over the coffee table, skinning his knee. Margo sobbed quietly.

          "Now calm down, young man!" commanded Carmen. "I may be 80 years old but I won’t be spoken to like that." She softened her expression and continued. "Now you’re a good kid and I know it would take an awful lot of provocation to get you all worked up."

          "Mother, no one provoked either of them," protested Margo.

          "They were going at it from the time we pulled out of the driveway," added Martin.

          "He wanted me to drive. I don’t want to drive, ‘specially on the freeway."

          "Mother, why do you meddle? Lance can handle it."

          "He was lecturing me the whole time we went to the stadium."

          "Dad was on Phillip’s case all night."

          "He wouldn’t buy me any popcorn, said I had to use my own money, but he bought some for Mom and Martin."

          "I think Dad had it in for Phillip tonight."

          "Martin, don’t speak that way about your father."

          "But Mom, he wasn’t being fair."

          "Still…"

          "Dad wouldn’t let me share my hot dog with Phillip."

          "Kept telling me I wouldn’t accept any responsibility…"

          "I think Dad was already mad about something at work."

          "…but I work, don’t I? Isn’t that responsibility?"

          "Dad wanted Phillip to drive us all home."

          "In the dark! On the freeway! With everyone! I’ve only had my permit a few months."

          "Phillip, you need to learn to drive sometime."

          "I’m glad Phillip didn’t drive. But Dad drove home like a mad man. Maybe you shoulda drove, Phillip."

          Wolfgang barked. He wasn’t going to be left out.

          "I don’t see why everyone’s rushing me into driving. Just because I’m almost the holy age of sixteen, why does that force me to have to learn to drive?"

          "My knee hurts."

          "Phillip, you have to get …"

          "Saint Richard didn’t get his license until he was seventeen. Why do I have to get mine now? I can take the bus."

          "Don’t call your brother that!"

          "I’d like to drive now. But I’m only fourteen. Why do I have to wait?"

          "It’s more environmentally friendly not to drive anyway. I can take the bus."

          "Phillip, dear, we’re just trying to help you get ahead."

          "Ahead of what? Ahead of Saint Richard?"

          Wolfgang barked at Richard’s name.

          "Phillip! How dare you say that about your brother?"

          "You’re jealous of Richard, aren’t you Phillip? I’m jealous of you because you have a permit and I’m too young."

          Carmen gathered herself together. She sat up a little straighter, adjusted her oxygen tube again, took a deep breath and bellowed.

          "ENOUGH!"

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